Winter ice and spring storms harm the old bricks of our smokehouse, bricks made here by hand in the 1850s. The redbud tree has a collar of blue tape on its trunk to hold its frail limbs upright one more year so the blossoms can bloom. In 1865 Union cavalry rode down this drive and raided the smokehouse of the few meats left to the Hales. A startled servant tossed a platter of biscuits into the air. The Hale silver had been safely hidden in the well. Somehow, knowing that this very land was under siege in that war, helps me cope with today's turmoil. I walk these grounds noting the need for restoration. Residency here requires responsibility.

There are some patterns repeating here on this property. At least twice a widower remarried and made a home here with his second wife (John Stafford Hale, Margaret Saunders, 1850's; my husband and me, 1990's). Two lawyers also known for military prowess used this property as part of their law office (Jubal Early, lawyer here from 1854-1861 and Civil War General; T. K. Greer, lawyer from 1948-1999 and WWII Marine officer). Two men have lost their wives and then a child (John S. Hale, Judith Early Hale, son Samuel Hale, 19th century; T. K. Greer, Dorothy L. Greer, daughter Celeste Claiborne Greer, 20th century). Trees planted here in the 1850s still stand. The ghosts of people long gone are still seen on the stairs and in the parlor. This smokehouse has seen so much.

 - Ibby Greer

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