|The old Iron sign at the start of the dirt road leading to the Plantation|
When you hear the word plantation, some may think of a harsh time in our nations history when slavery was legal. Others may picture the essence and beauty a Southern plantation embodies. Growing up in the south, I imagine majestic, vibrant, white columns rising two stories, with floor to ceiling windows stretching the length of the plantation. A monumental garden of crape myrtles and azalea bushes surrounding the front porch, an old magnolia or oak tree towering over the brick fire place, and a tin roof glimmering in the sunlight.
|The old magnolia tree towering over the wall Plantation|
Even though I knew as we drove the winding dirt trail, past oaks dripping in Spanish moss, that the old wall plantation didn’t resemble my last vision, the plantation was an exact match at one time. As we crested the clove covered hill, a dark, ominous looking structure with heavy overgrowth came into view. The only accurate part of my perfect plantation vision, was a beautiful magnolia tree towering over the brick fire place. The weathered tin roof was intact but bent, and mangled with spots of rust. The large white columns were grey and the great windows were broken or hard to see through. Piles of bricks were covered in moss and large beams of wood laid where they had fallen some time ago. This once beautiful home was now just passing the time, all but forgotten. The structure that once gave warmth from snow, cover from rain, and was exuberant with life, was now more wild than civilized. The only life, corners littered in cobwebs and bird nests. It was sad to see this beautiful structure in such disarray. It was if time stood still when you entered the home. Light pierced through every crack in the brick and rotting walls. It was amazing to see the 100 year old roof was still sheltering the floors from rain. The rain hitting the tin roof was a soothing sound and I could have laid down right there and gone to sleep. As we walked away, I appreciated the beauty of this old home and left with the image of the home as it once stood. Soon this part of history may be lost forever, but what it provided in its prime will always be remembered and a staple of Southern culture.
|The fallen brick fire place.|