The Middleton Oak

When Chris cancelled our regular Sunday Zoom check-in with the Pines boys, he called our road trip a "southern antebellum tour," which rang particularly true in Charleston.  We bought tickets for Middleton Place, a rice plantation built by a signer of the Declaration of Independence.   The word plantation wisely has been omitted from its current branding.  The gardens face the Ashley River and were once the nation's largest on a private residence.

Spanish moss hangs from live oaks as prettily as tinsel from a Christmas tree.

 

Thom had no idea we were just about to encounter a very surprised alligator.  When I once jokingly threatened to push him into a similarly infested body of water in the Everglades, he replied "You know I'll come out with a handbag and shoes!"

Imagine what Richard Powers could have done with this tree in The Overstory!  

The marker does a wonderful job of succinctly conveying its significance.

Now estimated to be between 900 to 1,000 years old, the Middleton oak is the reigning elder of all the many Live Oaks (Quercus virginiana) to be found at Middleton Place. An Indian Trail marker long before Columbus sailed across the Atlantic, the tree was incorporated into the garden plan executed by Henry Middleton in the 1740s.  Such an intrusive tree would likely have been removed in the planning of the typical classical garden influenced by the principles of the supreme landscape architect Andre LeNotre. The survival of the Middleton Oak suggests a fusion of landscape design that emerged in 18th century colonial Britain, as the rigorously formal European style was liberalized.

Surviving in numerable hurricanes and earthquakes, the Middleton oak could also have been harvested by colonial shipbuilders who sought out Live Oaks for the natural contours of their sturdy limbs to produce the ribs of ocean-going ships. But the great tree has survived to witness events of the American revolution, the Civil War and the evolution of Middleton place.

At the beginning of the 21st century the Middleton Oak lost three of its huge principal limbs leaving it as an espaliered backdrop to the neighboring Sundial Garden. 

As Andreas Feininger wrote in his 1968 book, Trees, referring to Quercus Virginiana after he had visited the Middleton place and the Middleton Oak:

“No other tree combines as many virtues with fewer faults . . . the most beautiful, majestic yet friendliest of all trees, the tree which as far as humans are concerned is the most rewarding not in terms of lumber and cash, but in the creation of an atmosphere of comfort, well-being and peace.”

Still I couldn't help but wonder if it strange fruit had ever hung from its limbs.

Randy was certainly on the mark when he described the gardens as "more manicured than Central Park."

It looked as if a wedding were about to take place, raising a question:  how many Black couples have been married on the grounds their ancestors were enslaved to farm and maintain?

Integration has yet to occur among the statues.

It cost extra to go inside the relatively modest main house, briefly occupied by Union soldiers during the Civil War before they destroyed much of the place.

Our ticket did include access to Eliza's House though, a Black woman who worked at Middleton Place until her death in 1986.  I couldn't decide if this disparity was offensive or not.

A sign announced that the house might not have been as well-furnished when enslaved people occupied it.

Graves believed to be the final resting place of enslaved people weren't marked with last names.

Alice Ravenel Huger Smith, who spent time at Middleton, her ancestral home, also drew lovely water colors which are reproduced in Eliza's house as well a former mill.  I guiltily purchased a book of the Charleston renaissance artist's work.  At least it acknowledges that while Smith faithfully details plantation geography and rice cultivation, she "omits the reality of heat, insects, exploitive labor, the slave patrol, and above all, the repressive violence of black bondage."

Middleton Place also highlights the work performed by enslaved people, including candle making and phaeton driving.

Again, I couldn't help but notice that the displays were located in the same area as Eliza's house and the livestock pens.  It reminded me of the South Carolina chapter of The Underground Railroad in which the re-enactment of plantation life by formerly enslaved people "educates" citizens instead of forcing them to confront the injustices of their past--and present.

A cow licked my elbow when I tried to take a selfie with her.

Sheep grazed near our picnic site.