Tree of Witness

“Great Caesar falls. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down....”

Shakespeare, in Julius Caesar, act iii

 

    A Sunday morning in February 2014, out under overcast sky, but not too cold, near one of the ponds where the giant hoe last fall disturbed the soil on the site of the “gin lot,” the Reid’s “old homestead,” and the 1919 “cyclone” victims, I found lying in new vegetation what looked like a small egg, white, that size. In my hand it was the perfect head and face, broken at the neck, that may have been a doll belonging to Sarah Lightfoot Reid (1862) or Mera Price (1919), waiting so long to be found on the sandy hillside.

    To myself again: “Who knows what a day will bring?”