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The Forgotten South

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✍🏼 Stories of Forgotten Places 🪦Cemetery Advocate 📜Historian 📷Photographer

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🇺🇸 On the night of April 28, 1781, Colonel Abel Kolb walked out the front door of his plantation home on the east bank of the Great Pee Dee River in South Carolina. He was shot before he could speak as his wife and children watched. Then the Loyalists burned his house to the ground. By the spring of 1781, the Revolution in the South was at a turning point. Cornwallis had moved his army into Virginia, and Patriot forces under Nathanael Greene were methodically dismantling British outposts across the Carolinas. The war was shifting in the Patriots' favor. But in the backcountry, the violence between neighbors had become something uglier and more personal than any formal battle. Loyalist raiders and Patriot militias settled scores with brutal efficiency, and no one was safe, even in their own homes. Kolb had spent the previous day routing Tory forces along Drowning Creek and Catfish Creek. When he returned home, he dismissed his men, believing that the threat was over. He was wrong. Fifty North Carolina Loyalists under Captain Joseph Jones had gathered in retaliation. By the time they left, one of Francis Marion's most capable commanders in the Pee Dee was dead. Kolb was no ordinary militia colonel. Born around 1750 into one of the founding families of the Welsh Neck Baptist community along the Pee Dee, he had served since 1775, survived the fall of Charleston, and built a regiment of more than 230 men to protect the Cheraws District from Loyalist raids. Historians described him as vigilant, active, and daring. Marion's own order book recorded his death simply: "Kolb killed." He was buried here, in the old Welsh Neck Cemetery on the east bank of the Pee Dee River, where his family had farmed and worshipped. The church eventually moved, and the community scattered, but his story deserves to be remembered.

🇺🇸 On the night of April 28, 1781, Colonel Abel Kolb walked out the front door of his plantation home on the east bank of the Great Pee Dee River in South Carolina. He was shot before he could speak as his wife and children watched. Then the Loyalists burned his house to the ground. By the spring of 1781, the Revolution in the South was at a turning point. Cornwallis had moved his army into Virginia, and Patriot forces under Nathanael Greene were methodically dismantling British outposts across the Carolinas. The war was shifting in the Patriots' favor. But in the backcountry, the violence between neighbors had become something uglier and more personal than any formal battle. Loyalist raiders and Patriot militias settled scores with brutal efficiency, and no one was safe, even in their own homes. Kolb had spent the previous day routing Tory forces along Drowning Creek and Catfish Creek. When he returned home, he dismissed his men, believing that the threat was over. He was wrong. Fifty North Carolina Loyalists under Captain Joseph Jones had gathered in retaliation. By the time they left, one of Francis Marion's most capable commanders in the Pee Dee was dead. Kolb was no ordinary militia colonel. Born around 1750 into one of the founding families of the Welsh Neck Baptist community along the Pee Dee, he had served since 1775, survived the fall of Charleston, and built a regiment of more than 230 men to protect the Cheraws District from Loyalist raids. Historians described him as vigilant, active, and daring. Marion's own order book recorded his death simply: "Kolb killed." He was buried here, in the old Welsh Neck Cemetery on the east bank of the Pee Dee River, where his family had farmed and worshipped. The church eventually moved, and the community scattered, but his story deserves to be remembered.

80,414 Aufrufe

This house was built during the citrus boom of the 1880s, when North Florida was full of hopeful growers planting groves across the region. But a devastating freeze struck that same decade, wiping out most of the crops and forcing many farmers to head farther south to start over near Orlando, where Florida’s citrus industry still thrives today. Homes like this are rare in Florida now, so I’m grateful that this one still stands. It offers a glimpse into a very different era and what life here once looked like.

This house was built during the citrus boom of the 1880s, when North Florida was full of hopeful growers planting groves across the region. But a devastating freeze struck that same decade, wiping out most of the crops and forcing many farmers to head farther south to start over near Orlando, where Florida’s citrus industry still thrives today. Homes like this are rare in Florida now, so I’m grateful that this one still stands. It offers a glimpse into a very different era and what life here once looked like.

147,057 Aufrufe

Saddlebag houses get their name from their layout of two rooms on either side of a central chimney, resembling saddlebags draped over a horse. This practical design was common in 1800s architecture because it was easy to heat with a central shared chimney and easy to expand as families grew. This one is located in Morgan County, Georgia, and was built in the late 1800s.

Saddlebag houses get their name from their layout of two rooms on either side of a central chimney, resembling saddlebags draped over a horse. This practical design was common in 1800s architecture because it was easy to heat with a central shared chimney and easy to expand as families grew. This one is located in Morgan County, Georgia, and was built in the late 1800s.

72,842 Aufrufe

L.H., who were you? While wandering through an old cemetery, this small hand-carved headstone caught my eye: “L.H. 1832” When I got home, I searched the burial records, hoping to learn more, but no one with these initials is listed. At one time, someone clearly knew and cared deeply for L.H., enough to carve this stone and place it at their loved one’s grave after they died in 1832. Now the full name has been lost to time, but the marker remains. This grave is located at Cane Creek Friends Meeting in Alamance County, North Carolina, one of the oldest Quaker meeting sites in the state, founded in 1751.

L.H., who were you? While wandering through an old cemetery, this small hand-carved headstone caught my eye: “L.H. 1832” When I got home, I searched the burial records, hoping to learn more, but no one with these initials is listed. At one time, someone clearly knew and cared deeply for L.H., enough to carve this stone and place it at their loved one’s grave after they died in 1832. Now the full name has been lost to time, but the marker remains. This grave is located at Cane Creek Friends Meeting in Alamance County, North Carolina, one of the oldest Quaker meeting sites in the state, founded in 1751.

47,447 Aufrufe

👀 Today I was wandering down a North Carolina dirt road, about a mile from the South Carolina line when a flash of handmade brick peeked out from the overgrowth. I slammed on the brakes to explore, and that’s when the real surprise showed up...

👀 Today I was wandering down a North Carolina dirt road, about a mile from the South Carolina line when a flash of handmade brick peeked out from the overgrowth. I slammed on the brakes to explore, and that’s when the real surprise showed up...

89,365 Aufrufe

✨Imagine building your dream home from a Sears Roebuck catalog. One East Tennessee family did just that in 1900, expanding their 1840s log cabin with finishes ordered by mail and shipped here by rail. I'll post more photos of this house and its incredible barn below.

✨Imagine building your dream home from a Sears Roebuck catalog. One East Tennessee family did just that in 1900, expanding their 1840s log cabin with finishes ordered by mail and shipped here by rail. I'll post more photos of this house and its incredible barn below.

83,050 Aufrufe

Old Florida is disappearing under concrete, but if you go looking for it, you can still find glimpses of what it used to look like, tucked along the backroads. Places like Evinston in Alachua County, where I filmed this video, still hold onto that quiet magic; with dirt roads draped in Spanish moss, historic sites still standing, and that slow, peaceful feeling you don’t find in many places anymore. If you’re searching for more glimpses of Old Florida, here are a few places worth exploring: 🌿 Micanopy 🌿 McIntosh 🌿 Cedar Key 🌿 Steinhatchee 🌿 Melrose 🌿 Live Oak 🌿 Waldo 🌿 Newberry, Archer, and High Springs What are your favorite Old Florida spots?

Old Florida is disappearing under concrete, but if you go looking for it, you can still find glimpses of what it used to look like, tucked along the backroads. Places like Evinston in Alachua County, where I filmed this video, still hold onto that quiet magic; with dirt roads draped in Spanish moss, historic sites still standing, and that slow, peaceful feeling you don’t find in many places anymore. If you’re searching for more glimpses of Old Florida, here are a few places worth exploring: 🌿 Micanopy 🌿 McIntosh 🌿 Cedar Key 🌿 Steinhatchee 🌿 Melrose 🌿 Live Oak 🌿 Waldo 🌿 Newberry, Archer, and High Springs What are your favorite Old Florida spots?

61,992 Aufrufe

🪦Although the words are often used interchangeably, did you know that technically, a cemetery and a graveyard are different? A graveyard is a burial ground associated with a church (once commonly referred to as churchyards), whereas a cemetery is a burial ground that stands on its own, not tied to a church. Did you know this?

🪦Although the words are often used interchangeably, did you know that technically, a cemetery and a graveyard are different? A graveyard is a burial ground associated with a church (once commonly referred to as churchyards), whereas a cemetery is a burial ground that stands on its own, not tied to a church. Did you know this?

48,652 Aufrufe

He was a U.S. Army veteran. But he was also someone’s son, someone's husband, someone's father. And when these bright yellow blooms caught my eye, I just had to know more about him. Here is what I learned: Samuel Shannon was born in 1892 to Cap and Henrietta 'Hainsy' Shannon in a quiet corner of rural South Carolina. Today, his grave rests at New Zion Baptist Church, where every spring daffodils bloom around his headstone, providing a bright and beautiful reminder that someone loved him enough to plant something beautiful in his memory. When I began researching his life, I learned that Samuel (age 26) enlisted in the Army on June 20, 1918, during the final, intense months of World War I. During this period, the U.S. military was rapidly building units to support the fighting overseas. Samuel served as a Private in the 19th Regiment FARD (Field Artillery Replacement Depot), an all-Black regiment formed at Camp Jackson, South Carolina, created to train artillerymen for service. After the war, he returned home to South Carolina and worked as a farmer, married a woman named Rosetta McDaniel, and started a family. But tragedy struck in 1949 when Samuel spent 93 days in the hospital before succumbing to myeloma in 1950. He was 57 years old. The census taken that same year shows that his wife, Rosetta, was 38 and left to care for six children between the ages of 2 and 15. The records indicate she worked on the farm in exchange for renting their home to help support the family. A year after Samuel's death, in 1951, Rosetta Shannon applied to the Veterans Administration for the military headstone that now marks his grave. I can’t help but wonder if she was the one who planted these daffodils so he would be remembered every spring. 📍 New Zion Baptist Church | Rock Hill, South Carolina

He was a U.S. Army veteran. But he was also someone’s son, someone's husband, someone's father. And when these bright yellow blooms caught my eye, I just had to know more about him. Here is what I learned: Samuel Shannon was born in 1892 to Cap and Henrietta 'Hainsy' Shannon in a quiet corner of rural South Carolina. Today, his grave rests at New Zion Baptist Church, where every spring daffodils bloom around his headstone, providing a bright and beautiful reminder that someone loved him enough to plant something beautiful in his memory. When I began researching his life, I learned that Samuel (age 26) enlisted in the Army on June 20, 1918, during the final, intense months of World War I. During this period, the U.S. military was rapidly building units to support the fighting overseas. Samuel served as a Private in the 19th Regiment FARD (Field Artillery Replacement Depot), an all-Black regiment formed at Camp Jackson, South Carolina, created to train artillerymen for service. After the war, he returned home to South Carolina and worked as a farmer, married a woman named Rosetta McDaniel, and started a family. But tragedy struck in 1949 when Samuel spent 93 days in the hospital before succumbing to myeloma in 1950. He was 57 years old. The census taken that same year shows that his wife, Rosetta, was 38 and left to care for six children between the ages of 2 and 15. The records indicate she worked on the farm in exchange for renting their home to help support the family. A year after Samuel's death, in 1951, Rosetta Shannon applied to the Veterans Administration for the military headstone that now marks his grave. I can’t help but wonder if she was the one who planted these daffodils so he would be remembered every spring. 📍 New Zion Baptist Church | Rock Hill, South Carolina

30,535 Aufrufe

🪦Here, carved into a 200+ year-old stone, lies the mystery of Allord Myrick. During a cemetery clean-up last fall, the light hit this headstone at the perfect moment and caught my eye, so I knelt down to read the hand-carved inscription. It said: “Allord Myrick, b. April 18, 1796, d. Jun 1799.” Only three years old when young Allord died, his family was likely distraught by the loss. And in that era, grief was literally carved in stone. Back then, family members often carved markers for their loved ones themselves, which adds another layer to this story. Because it isn’t just the story of Allord, but the story of the family who lost him and chose to memorialize him in a stone that still holds his name more than 200 years later. I wanted to know more about them, but there are no other Myricks buried in this cemetery. So where did his family go? Maybe they’re here too, and the records have been lost to time. Or maybe they moved on after losing their son. We may never know, but it’s fascinating to imagine what the full story might have been.

🪦Here, carved into a 200+ year-old stone, lies the mystery of Allord Myrick. During a cemetery clean-up last fall, the light hit this headstone at the perfect moment and caught my eye, so I knelt down to read the hand-carved inscription. It said: “Allord Myrick, b. April 18, 1796, d. Jun 1799.” Only three years old when young Allord died, his family was likely distraught by the loss. And in that era, grief was literally carved in stone. Back then, family members often carved markers for their loved ones themselves, which adds another layer to this story. Because it isn’t just the story of Allord, but the story of the family who lost him and chose to memorialize him in a stone that still holds his name more than 200 years later. I wanted to know more about them, but there are no other Myricks buried in this cemetery. So where did his family go? Maybe they’re here too, and the records have been lost to time. Or maybe they moved on after losing their son. We may never know, but it’s fascinating to imagine what the full story might have been.

37,458 Aufrufe

The sun was fading fast that evening as I sped past a small cemetery in rural North Carolina. I was losing light, but something about the stones caught my eye, so I turned around to see what I could capture before the day slipped away. This marker stood out right away because of its shape and symbols. But it wasn’t until I got home and looked closer that I realized it was actually a double gravemarker, something you don’t see very often. Curious, I started digging into the lives of the two people buried here, John and Catherine McNair. Here is what I found: John McNair came to America in 1770 after the death of his first wife, crossing the ocean with his two small children. Part of a wave of Highland Scots who settled throughout the Cape Fear region of North Carolina, he purchased a plantation in Anson County before later moving to an area along Drowning Creek. John was also a Patriot during the Revolutionary War and received payment for the aid he provided in 1783. One story I found described his early life in Scotland. He was born in 1735 in a small village in the Parish of Kilkenny, the youngest son of Neill MacNair. After losing his first wife, Jennet Smylie, in 1769, he emigrated to North Carolina the following year. In 1772, he married his second wife, Catherine Buie McFarland, the daughter of Scottish immigrant Donald Buie. Together they built a family until Catherine’s death in 1787. Standing there at their shared gravemarker, two names side by side, I felt the weight of their story: loss, resilience, migration, the building of a new life on unfamiliar soil, and how it tied into the bigger story unfolding in this region at the time. It is amazing what you can learn when a single stone makes you turn around.

The sun was fading fast that evening as I sped past a small cemetery in rural North Carolina. I was losing light, but something about the stones caught my eye, so I turned around to see what I could capture before the day slipped away. This marker stood out right away because of its shape and symbols. But it wasn’t until I got home and looked closer that I realized it was actually a double gravemarker, something you don’t see very often. Curious, I started digging into the lives of the two people buried here, John and Catherine McNair. Here is what I found: John McNair came to America in 1770 after the death of his first wife, crossing the ocean with his two small children. Part of a wave of Highland Scots who settled throughout the Cape Fear region of North Carolina, he purchased a plantation in Anson County before later moving to an area along Drowning Creek. John was also a Patriot during the Revolutionary War and received payment for the aid he provided in 1783. One story I found described his early life in Scotland. He was born in 1735 in a small village in the Parish of Kilkenny, the youngest son of Neill MacNair. After losing his first wife, Jennet Smylie, in 1769, he emigrated to North Carolina the following year. In 1772, he married his second wife, Catherine Buie McFarland, the daughter of Scottish immigrant Donald Buie. Together they built a family until Catherine’s death in 1787. Standing there at their shared gravemarker, two names side by side, I felt the weight of their story: loss, resilience, migration, the building of a new life on unfamiliar soil, and how it tied into the bigger story unfolding in this region at the time. It is amazing what you can learn when a single stone makes you turn around.

46,647 Aufrufe

Have you ever noticed an old farmhouse with two front doors and wondered why? It looks unusual today, but it once made perfect sense in rural America. Many early farmhouses were built in phases. A single log or frame cabin came first, then a second room was added beside it as the family grew. Since each room was originally its own structure, each kept its own exterior entrance. When joined together, the house ended up with two front doors. There were practical reasons too. Separate doors helped keep private sleeping spaces apart from public living areas when visitors stopped by. It also made it easier to house extended family, hired farm workers, or boarders while maintaining some separation. And before air conditioning, paired doors and aligned openings helped create strong cross-breezes, making hot Southern summers more bearable inside. Once you start looking, you’ll notice these double-door farmhouses everywhere.

Have you ever noticed an old farmhouse with two front doors and wondered why? It looks unusual today, but it once made perfect sense in rural America. Many early farmhouses were built in phases. A single log or frame cabin came first, then a second room was added beside it as the family grew. Since each room was originally its own structure, each kept its own exterior entrance. When joined together, the house ended up with two front doors. There were practical reasons too. Separate doors helped keep private sleeping spaces apart from public living areas when visitors stopped by. It also made it easier to house extended family, hired farm workers, or boarders while maintaining some separation. And before air conditioning, paired doors and aligned openings helped create strong cross-breezes, making hot Southern summers more bearable inside. Once you start looking, you’ll notice these double-door farmhouses everywhere.

24,471 Aufrufe

You’ve just inherited your family’s old homeplace, but not the money to restore it. The boards are weathered. The windows are tired. The chimney is failing, the paint is gone, and a cold draft slips through every room. The repair list grows longer each time you walk inside. Do you fight to save what remains, or carefully salvage its pieces so the story can live on somewhere new? What would you do with it?

You’ve just inherited your family’s old homeplace, but not the money to restore it. The boards are weathered. The windows are tired. The chimney is failing, the paint is gone, and a cold draft slips through every room. The repair list grows longer each time you walk inside. Do you fight to save what remains, or carefully salvage its pieces so the story can live on somewhere new? What would you do with it?

24,062 Aufrufe

🌼There is an old proverb that says a great society is built when people plant trees whose shade they will never sit in. It always brings to mind places like this abandoned home, where daffodils still rise each spring, even though the house has stood empty for many years. The bulbs keep their faithful rhythm, returning season after season and washing the old homesite in bright yellow, a gift to us from Mrs. Dowd, who planted them here long ago. It is a simple but powerful kind of legacy, to leave a place more beautiful than you found it. I think we could all learn something from Mrs. Dowd.

🌼There is an old proverb that says a great society is built when people plant trees whose shade they will never sit in. It always brings to mind places like this abandoned home, where daffodils still rise each spring, even though the house has stood empty for many years. The bulbs keep their faithful rhythm, returning season after season and washing the old homesite in bright yellow, a gift to us from Mrs. Dowd, who planted them here long ago. It is a simple but powerful kind of legacy, to leave a place more beautiful than you found it. I think we could all learn something from Mrs. Dowd.

14,523 Aufrufe

Can you imagine this place when it was still new and full of life? What did it look like? How many people lived here? What were their lives like?

Can you imagine this place when it was still new and full of life? What did it look like? How many people lived here? What were their lives like?

16,437 Aufrufe

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👉🏼 This hotel in the mountains of Tennessee was built in the 1880s. Imagine stepping off a train in 1900 to find a grand hotel rising along the banks of the Hiwassee River in the Appalachian Mountains. Back then, the Higdon Hotel welcomed railroad crews, summer tourists, and mountain wanderers alike. Today, it sits quiet and hollow, just a ghost from a golden age when rivers and railroads brought life to this tiny Tennessee town in the mountains. You can see a photo of it from 1910 below....

👉🏼 This hotel in the mountains of Tennessee was built in the 1880s. Imagine stepping off a train in 1900 to find a grand hotel rising along the banks of the Hiwassee River in the Appalachian Mountains. Back then, the Higdon Hotel welcomed railroad crews, summer tourists, and mountain wanderers alike. Today, it sits quiet and hollow, just a ghost from a golden age when rivers and railroads brought life to this tiny Tennessee town in the mountains. You can see a photo of it from 1910 below....

The Forgotten South

246,403 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten

This log cabin was built by the McCarrolls, an Irish immigrant family, in the 1840s, when this part of Florida was still a frontier. It was later lived in by the Hogan family. The cabin includes a board-and-batten kitchen that was added onto the back of the original log structure. Today, the house sits at Morningside’s Living History Farm in Gainesville, where it was relocated to help recreate what a family farm in 1870s Florida might have looked like. The farm includes the 1840s cabin, the attached kitchen, a barn, a one-room schoolhouse, an heirloom garden, and heritage-breed farm animals. On the first Saturday of each month (September–May), the Farm offers live interpretive experiences that bring this history to life.

This log cabin was built by the McCarrolls, an Irish immigrant family, in the 1840s, when this part of Florida was still a frontier. It was later lived in by the Hogan family. The cabin includes a board-and-batten kitchen that was added onto the back of the original log structure. Today, the house sits at Morningside’s Living History Farm in Gainesville, where it was relocated to help recreate what a family farm in 1870s Florida might have looked like. The farm includes the 1840s cabin, the attached kitchen, a barn, a one-room schoolhouse, an heirloom garden, and heritage-breed farm animals. On the first Saturday of each month (September–May), the Farm offers live interpretive experiences that bring this history to life.

The Forgotten South

189,144 Aufrufe • vor 5 Monaten

🌼✨Hiking through the woods, I stumbled onto a hillside glowing with daffodils- hundreds of them. I followed their trail and found this forgotten cabin, once home to an unmarried Cole sister whose name was never recorded. She lived her life quietly here, but every spring her daffodils still bloom, lighting up the woods long after she’s gone.

🌼✨Hiking through the woods, I stumbled onto a hillside glowing with daffodils- hundreds of them. I followed their trail and found this forgotten cabin, once home to an unmarried Cole sister whose name was never recorded. She lived her life quietly here, but every spring her daffodils still bloom, lighting up the woods long after she’s gone.

The Forgotten South

174,357 Aufrufe • vor 6 Monaten

What do you think was the hardest part of life here? 📍Buncombe County, North Carolina

What do you think was the hardest part of life here? 📍Buncombe County, North Carolina

The Forgotten South

77,978 Aufrufe • vor 5 Monaten

🌼“Ghost Garden” is a term I came up with to describe the gardens I find all the time at old homesites across the South. Hardy perennials, like daffodils, can bloom for generations without tending, so once they’re planted, they continue to shine their bright light at the end of winter, heralding the arrival of spring. And although daffodils thrive in this region, they aren’t native here- which means someone had to plant them. So if you ever spot a clump of daffodils in the woods, along the roadside, by a creek bed, or out in a field, you can bet there was once a homesite nearby. And if you take a look around, you might find an old chimney, a house foundation, or maybe even a family cemetery.

🌼“Ghost Garden” is a term I came up with to describe the gardens I find all the time at old homesites across the South. Hardy perennials, like daffodils, can bloom for generations without tending, so once they’re planted, they continue to shine their bright light at the end of winter, heralding the arrival of spring. And although daffodils thrive in this region, they aren’t native here- which means someone had to plant them. So if you ever spot a clump of daffodils in the woods, along the roadside, by a creek bed, or out in a field, you can bet there was once a homesite nearby. And if you take a look around, you might find an old chimney, a house foundation, or maybe even a family cemetery.

The Forgotten South

46,010 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten

By the summer of 1864, the Civil War had turned brutal in the Virginia countryside. Confederate Colonel John S. Mosby and his rangers were terrorizing Federal units across northern Virginia, striking supply lines, ambushing couriers, and vanishing back into the landscape before Union troops could respond. In one raid alone, Mosby's men attacked one of Sheridan's supply trains, burning 40 wagons and seizing hundreds of mules, horses, and cattle. Union soldiers grew so fearful of the Rangers that some said they would rather charge into open battle than patrol Valley roads alone. In the fall of 1864, Union General Philip Sheridan was ordered to put a stop to it. Grant ordered Sheridan to destroy all mills, barns, and crops he could, carry off livestock, and leave the Shenandoah Valley a barren waste. During these Burning Raids, 230 barns, 8 mills, 1 distillery, 10,000 tons of hay, and 25,000 bushels of grain were reported burned across a stretch of Virginia in just days. Civilians watched their entire livelihoods reduced to ash. These stone wall ruins are all that's left of Potts Neer Mill (built c. 1840s), one of the only surviving remnants from that time.

By the summer of 1864, the Civil War had turned brutal in the Virginia countryside. Confederate Colonel John S. Mosby and his rangers were terrorizing Federal units across northern Virginia, striking supply lines, ambushing couriers, and vanishing back into the landscape before Union troops could respond. In one raid alone, Mosby's men attacked one of Sheridan's supply trains, burning 40 wagons and seizing hundreds of mules, horses, and cattle. Union soldiers grew so fearful of the Rangers that some said they would rather charge into open battle than patrol Valley roads alone. In the fall of 1864, Union General Philip Sheridan was ordered to put a stop to it. Grant ordered Sheridan to destroy all mills, barns, and crops he could, carry off livestock, and leave the Shenandoah Valley a barren waste. During these Burning Raids, 230 barns, 8 mills, 1 distillery, 10,000 tons of hay, and 25,000 bushels of grain were reported burned across a stretch of Virginia in just days. Civilians watched their entire livelihoods reduced to ash. These stone wall ruins are all that's left of Potts Neer Mill (built c. 1840s), one of the only surviving remnants from that time.

The Forgotten South

27,640 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

This school in rural South Carolina probably looks much like it did when it was built in the 1920s and is still as isolated as it was back then. It's easy to understand why it fell out of use, but it would be great to see it get another shot at life, serving some new purpose for the rural community where it has stood for nearly 100 years.

This school in rural South Carolina probably looks much like it did when it was built in the 1920s and is still as isolated as it was back then. It's easy to understand why it fell out of use, but it would be great to see it get another shot at life, serving some new purpose for the rural community where it has stood for nearly 100 years.

The Forgotten South

33,240 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

✨When I first met Agnes, she was buried under a blanket of leaves and decades of dirt. So much so that her gravemarker was nearly impossible to read. I decided to clean her stone so we could finally see her name again and honor her properly. When the dirt lifted, her story came back into view: Agnes Campbell, just one year old when she passed in 1848. I made this short video to share the gentle process I use when cleaning historic stones, and the results, which I was so grateful to see. For those of you who are curious, the cleaner I used is Endurance Gravestone & Monument Cleaner, which you can purchase from my friends at Atlas Preservation. Here’s to remembering Agnes and making sure that her memory doesn't fade away with time.

✨When I first met Agnes, she was buried under a blanket of leaves and decades of dirt. So much so that her gravemarker was nearly impossible to read. I decided to clean her stone so we could finally see her name again and honor her properly. When the dirt lifted, her story came back into view: Agnes Campbell, just one year old when she passed in 1848. I made this short video to share the gentle process I use when cleaning historic stones, and the results, which I was so grateful to see. For those of you who are curious, the cleaner I used is Endurance Gravestone & Monument Cleaner, which you can purchase from my friends at Atlas Preservation. Here’s to remembering Agnes and making sure that her memory doesn't fade away with time.

The Forgotten South

45,755 Aufrufe • vor 6 Monaten

🍂🫎 Palmer's Chapel stands in Cataloochee Valley, North Carolina, as a beautiful reminder of the mountain families who once built their lives here before they were displaced for the creation of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Today, the pews sit empty, but the valley is far from silent. Each fall, the calls of the elk echo across the valley as they pass through the fields in front of the church, reclaiming a home they were once driven from.

🍂🫎 Palmer's Chapel stands in Cataloochee Valley, North Carolina, as a beautiful reminder of the mountain families who once built their lives here before they were displaced for the creation of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Today, the pews sit empty, but the valley is far from silent. Each fall, the calls of the elk echo across the valley as they pass through the fields in front of the church, reclaiming a home they were once driven from.

The Forgotten South

45,103 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

👉🏼Which of these old houses speaks to you the most? #1- 1890s era mansion in the Virginia countryside #2- 1880s farmhouse from the mountains of Western North Carolina #3- 1890s house with double verandas in North Florida #4- Antebellum Georgia farmhouse set on a dirt road in the countryside #5- Early 1900s farmhouse with a wrap-around porch in South Carolina #6- Antebellum farmhouse in rural Georgia

👉🏼Which of these old houses speaks to you the most? #1- 1890s era mansion in the Virginia countryside #2- 1880s farmhouse from the mountains of Western North Carolina #3- 1890s house with double verandas in North Florida #4- Antebellum Georgia farmhouse set on a dirt road in the countryside #5- Early 1900s farmhouse with a wrap-around porch in South Carolina #6- Antebellum farmhouse in rural Georgia

The Forgotten South

28,691 Aufrufe • vor 5 Monaten

Yesterday, I spent the day in eastern North Carolina working with the owners of a small family cemetery surrounded by farmland. 🌾 We cut away years of overgrowth- vines, bamboo, and young magnolias that had sprouted where one large tree once stood before it fell and damaged several headstones. I volunteer to do this work because these cemeteries matter. They hold the stories of our ancestors and the communities that came before us, and how we care for them says a lot about who we are today. I’ve got 3 more cemeteries lined up this month. I hope you'll follow along if you care about old cemeteries and preserving forgotten history. 🪦

Yesterday, I spent the day in eastern North Carolina working with the owners of a small family cemetery surrounded by farmland. 🌾 We cut away years of overgrowth- vines, bamboo, and young magnolias that had sprouted where one large tree once stood before it fell and damaged several headstones. I volunteer to do this work because these cemeteries matter. They hold the stories of our ancestors and the communities that came before us, and how we care for them says a lot about who we are today. I’ve got 3 more cemeteries lined up this month. I hope you'll follow along if you care about old cemeteries and preserving forgotten history. 🪦

The Forgotten South

18,868 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

🌾Have you ever seen a silo like this? I came across this massive structure deep in the Florida woods at the site of a former railroad community that has all but disappeared. It appears to be made of terracotta bricks or glazed tiles, unlike any other silo I’ve seen before. A local told me it likely dates to the late 1800s or early 1900s and was once used to store grain. Beginning in the 1880s, silos like this started appearing on American farms to store silage for livestock. Early versions were built from wood, but by the early 20th century, brick and tile manufacturers had found a new market for their products in farm construction. These hollow ceramic tiles were durable, protected feed from freezing, and resisted moisture- an elegant mix of function and beauty. Their dark, glossy finish was often matched to nearby barns and outbuildings. Today, this silo is the last remnant of the community that once stood here. Its beautiful glazed tiles still shine through the vines, marking a piece of Florida history that has nearly disappeared.

🌾Have you ever seen a silo like this? I came across this massive structure deep in the Florida woods at the site of a former railroad community that has all but disappeared. It appears to be made of terracotta bricks or glazed tiles, unlike any other silo I’ve seen before. A local told me it likely dates to the late 1800s or early 1900s and was once used to store grain. Beginning in the 1880s, silos like this started appearing on American farms to store silage for livestock. Early versions were built from wood, but by the early 20th century, brick and tile manufacturers had found a new market for their products in farm construction. These hollow ceramic tiles were durable, protected feed from freezing, and resisted moisture- an elegant mix of function and beauty. Their dark, glossy finish was often matched to nearby barns and outbuildings. Today, this silo is the last remnant of the community that once stood here. Its beautiful glazed tiles still shine through the vines, marking a piece of Florida history that has nearly disappeared.

The Forgotten South

12,313 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

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