Ancestors in the Pasture

K., who is part Cherokee, has ancestors that live in our pasture. Well, sort of. The Eastern Red Cedar was, and is, the most sacred of trees to the Cherokees. They have long believed that the Cedar holds the protective spirits of past ancestors. It's interesting that the tree has had holy significance to many people. Quakers marked their gravesites with them and they were also planted, many times, where civil war soldiers fell in battle. I suppose it's their long life and their pungent evergreen foliage that brings immortality to mind. The oldest known Eastern Red Cedar, in Missouri, was estimated to be 795 years old so I can see why they might be so well respected.

It is a noble looking tree. The dark green foliage is evergreen, of course, and to my eyes can look either fresh as the promise of spring or as broody as the bleakest winter day depending on the season, weather or time of day. They volunteer all over in the countryside and don't seem to mind our granite-studded soils. We have many scattered throughout the wooded slope behind the house, including one especially large, dark one that grows despite the shade of it's neighboring Pecan tree. They fare far better in sun. I suppose they come up beneath the branches where birds, who have eaten the berries, roost in the evening. It would seem that no two are identical, a thing that could be said about any tree, naturally. It seems especially true of Cedars. Some are as tall and pointed as a rocket on a Launchpad. Others are as short and contorted as wizened old immigrants made to carry too much for too long.

The Cedar-loving Cherokees were once plentiful here in Georgia. We live in the band of territory that acted as a buffer between them, in the north, and the Creeks who lived, mostly, south of us. This was their land for eons, really, and the expulsion of the Cherokees and the subsequent Trail of Tears, when they were herded west to Oklahoma, is a particularly shameful part of Georgia's, and America's, past. I prefer to think of their time here before they were disturbed by the unstoppable wave of frontiersmen and women.

As I understand the legend of the Cedar in Native American folklore, when the Cherokees were new upon the earth they decided that things would be better if the day wasn't divided into light and dark. They approached the Ouga, their Creator, to banish night and always allow them to live in light. The Ouga granted their request.

Soon, the woodlands grew thick in the luxuriant daylight, so thick that travel became troublesome and paths were obscured by their growth. The unending day became intolerably hot and sleep became impossible. The ancient Cherokees were soon divided by quarrels and fights and life became unbearable.

The ancestors went back before their Ouga and begged that daylight be ended so that they might live always in the coolness of night. And their wish was, again, granted.

The crops failed in the constant darkness. It was impossible to hunt for game in the night. Time was spent in a constant search for firewood. The people were always cold and they grew weak and sick without food and light. Many died.

Those who lived went back once more and begged their Ouga to restore the original order of things, seeing then that it was good. And it was made so. Once again, balance was restored. Crops grew in the light and night provided rest and the survivors grew strong. They were grateful for the Creator and the wisdom of the balance.

The Creator accepted their abundant gratitude but was made sad by so many of the people who had died in the hard times. The Ouga created a new tree, the a-tsi-na tlu-gv, the great Cedar, and in it's evergreen boughs the Creator placed the spirits of all of the ancestors who had perished. Now the Cedar is seen as their very embodiment. The tree is sacred above all others. Some Cherokees still carry a small piece of Cedar in their pocket for protection. A piece of it placed over a doorway ensures that evil spirits do not enter. I understand that pieces of the foliage were scattered in fires burned during sacred times. Although the wood was never used as a fuel, it was used for some ceremonial objects such as drums and also for canoes.

In the front pasture, we have a particularly pretty Eastern Red Cedar. It has been growing in morning and mid-day sun for, probably, twenty years. I have read that twenty or thirty year-old trees are suitable for fenceposts. Sixty to eighty year-old trees may be large enough for building timbers or lumber. Ours is well-shaped and symmetrical, like a huge Christmas tree. Noble, indeed, and beautiful in every season.

It's a fitting home for anyone's ancestors and I hope that K.'s are happy in it. I have a new-found appreciation for it and it's long history. And I just might hide a sprig above the front door. You can never be too sure.