Kudzu ©2018
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Blue Ridge
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Folklore
The tamped trail worn from the many visitors
who traveled the path to bear witness of the creek’s existence held unruly
blackberry bushes growing wildly that protrudes along both sides of the
flattened grasses, clover and moss. Berries randomly dot the thorny stems of
which some were lime green waiting for the end of the season sun to bring about
their darkened perfection of glossy blackish purple. Not only was the beaten
route traveled by those seeking out answers, the trail was frequented by pie
makers, whom plucked ingredients right out of nature.
Just in the distance cool clear water
streamed across smoothened weathered granite formations as the musical
interlude hypnotically lured anyone within an earshot to come in closer. Folks
say during a full moon the shadowy rolling of the water secretly reveals truths
about the mysterious clearing. By listening closely a detectable voice calls
from beneath the constant trickle inviting anyone to come into the creeks
tempting ripples and play.
This was merely a portion of a bizarre
tale constructed some time ago. Traditionally, the myth handed down from one storyteller
to the next and of course over generations, the story altered and grew grander,
but still planted seeds in the fertile ground of curiosity amongst the willing.
As soon as the children of Blue Ridge were
old enough to seek adventures without adult supervision, the trail guided them
to the one that topped their ever-growing list of what they wanted to do when
they grew up. Following years of hearing the folklore, Sliding Rock was a must see.
The legend stemmed from a story that came
into being after young Native American couple’s desire to conceive a child
without success. Shaman spells, potions, and tricks left them fruitless. Complicated
incantations and sacrifices were ritualistic and without success up until the
point when hope floated away within the flow of the wind past beaver dams, bear
caves then through rise and fall of the mountainous terrain. Their surprise blessing
came just as they were resigned to carry on without progeny.
Of
course the parents cherished the infant and members of the tribe held a special
place in their hearts for the tiny child because there was no denying their
believing the long awaited birth was a miracle. One created by Great Spirit.
The newborn being the firstborn male of his
generation, he would someday take on the role of a leader. Once maturing into a
young adult, enduring many lessons from the elders, this blessing would
eventually be bestowed the title of Tribal Chief. The cumulative of such left no
lack of parental nurturing and loving attention given to the little one by the
Cherokee. Not a single moment passed, where their future leader’s needs went
unmet, but change was looming on many fronts. Mother Nature’s harsh winter
storm and Settlers had other plans.
A wrenching sadness overwhelmed the communal
tribe, when tragically, a new life ceased due to an unknown illness. Not even
the sacred leaves of the underbrush dealt a cure. So, in a sacred clearing in
the thick forest, while the tribe prepared for a parting ritual, the lifeless
child lay at rest. Handling of the remains never made the headlines of the
passing folklore so, whether the dead were burned or buried remained unclear.
As with any loving begetters, the young
couple was heartbroken. In tow with other grief stricken mourners as part of
the ritual of mother earth reclaiming a soul, they visited the peaceful resting
place for numerous weeks after the initial ceremony. Day and night, they
arrived to bid farewell and tried to make meaning out of the loss.
Believing the death an ultimate curse from
Spirit, the tribe shed tears continuously and couldn’t work through their anguish.
Fear of Spirit and they’d done something wrong motivated their desperation.
Perhaps, they believed that tears might remove the torment inside or if
anything resolve a curse. The mourners cried so many tears the saturated ground
couldn’t absorb the water fast enough or so the story goes. The mystery creek
and a seductive legend were born in the dead of winter following an untimely
death, losing a beloved infant called, Sliding
Rock.
What made the creek most peculiar was.... to be continued.
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| Sliding Rock |
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