Elizabeth Garraux planted a wisteria vine at the family’s homestead in Greenville that grew so outstandingly, it was mentioned in newspaper articles several times.
Initially, the vine was written about as having a stem as big around as a man’s boot. Later it was described as having a woody trunk that was “as thick as a man’s waist.”
The wisteria vine ran across the front of the house, down the side, and for several yards along a pergola out toward the barn.
When it was covered with thousands of long, lavender blooms in the spring, people would travel from all across the region to see the huge vine.
Our current home is on property that was owned by Elizabeth in the 1800s, as are several rental properties in the neighborhood in which we have invested.
One of the rental homes is across the street, and each spring, an old wisteria vine in the backyard comes back to life and blooms. The vine is about two blocks from where Frederick and Elizabeth lived.
The homestead, and the original massive wisteria vine, are long gone, replaced by a development of townhouses. But I believe the younger wisteria across the street is likely the offspring of Elizabeth’s incredible vine.
Seeing the spring blooms, along with many other subtle hints and clues in the neighborhood, has been like hearing whispers from the past.
I think Elizabeth wants her story told, and I think she wants it told to young mothers struggling with child-rearing, to those who have immigrated to this country, to women who have found themselves on their own, to anyone who is up against what look like insurmountable odds — truly anyone who is facing a challenge. I believe she wants them to hear just what determination and never giving up can accomplish.
So yes, I think I have heard her whispers in the wisteria. And for that, I am both inspired and grateful.
