Tucked away beneath a canopy of trees in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina stands a gristmill that was operated by the Mingus and Enloe families in the mid-nineteenth century. A quiet stream is diverted into a trough that was once used to power millstones that ground corn into meal.
Nowadays it lies within the boundaries of Great Smokey Mountains National Park and attracts a modest amount of visitors. On the far side of the parking lot from the mill is a narrow trail that leads into the trees and up a hill. It is neither marked nor noticeable to the casual visitor.
About one hundred feet up the trail is a small burial ground consisting of five mounds in two separate rows. Small rocks with no inscriptions act as crude headstones. Pennies have been placed at each headstone to show their respect. Some say the pennies are left as a symbolic gesture of the Great Emancipator, Abraham Lincoln. Others say it is an old African tradition where the dead pay a toll to the underworld.
The burials are those of slaves, most likely servants of the Mingus or Enloe families. No one knows exactly who they were.
It is a solemn feeling to be here. Away from the roads we can hear no cars. Even though the sky is overcast, a brightness seems to shine through the grove of trees. The forest teems with life.
Who are the people buried here and what kind of life did they lead? Did their owners treat them well? Where did they live? Were they all one family or had some been traded or sold and broken up? What were their names? These are questions that may never be answered.
From here we leave the tiny cemetery and mill, likely never to return. To me this little burial ground is a microcosm of the Appalachians as a whole⸺deep, hidden, draped in history and abounding in mystique. ♠
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