As I dictate this column into my cell phone, I am pacing the Victorian front porch of the farmhouse museum at Evergreen Heritage Center in Mount Savage. Just beyond the roof of this scenic overlook, the rain showers down like driven multitudes, saturating an already overwatered landscape and filling the pond beyond the dirt road which gives access to this gentle but resilient institution. I am a docent for the museum, and it is one of the places where I most enjoy spending time.
The broad vista of mountains, pond and valleys, decorated by lovely summer foliage and the ancient evergreen trees which give the spot its name, are balm for the spirit. Today it has been raining, as it has for the previous two days of Museum Week, and it is balefully muggy. But I don’t seem to mind it as much here. There is something about this place which speaks to my soul — and it isn’t just the cheerful determination of my colleagues slogging through mud in the diligent pursuit of their tasks.
History for me is not just a teacher. It is a refuge. I take from it not only the lessons it offers about humans, their tragedies, quirks and failures — but the lessons I need to learn. Especially the hard-won understanding that renewal comes with time, that the dawn always breaks. History travels on — sometimes in painful and horrific bursts, sometimes in quiet, reflective moments — but always on. I need that reassurance. It’s hard to feel the benediction of our ancestors, to believe in it; but places like Evergreen bring the message home. Such havens are not just preservers of our past, they help us maintain hope for our future.
Don’t get the idea that Evergreen sits smugly back on its haunches, enjoying a rarified position in our community and resting on its laurels. Far from it! You won’t find any more bustling hive of activity anywhere in the county than Evergreen. Here, Janice Keene, Dawn Hein and their energetic, talented staff enlighten, educate, and enrich the lives of over 18,000 visitors per year, the majority of them school children. Education, preservation and sustainability are the hallmarks of their creed, and they are endlessly creative and resourceful — and successful — in chasing those aims. It helps that they have a glorious canvas upon which to paint their vision.
Here on Federal Hill, men and women for millennia have made an Arcadia for themselves, whether it was the indigenous people who first combed these mountains for sustenance, or the white settlers who drove them away because they too felt the call of this immaculate land.
Edward Grimes, who built the original log cabin which eventually grew into the Evergreen farmhouse, was a veteran of the American Revolution. He received four 50-acre parcels of land on Federal Hill in payment for that service. Over the years, other families acquired the property until 1869, when Joseph Arnold Trimble bought it and eventually sold it to his son, Winfield Scott Trimble, who had fallen irrevocably in love with the homested. The Trimble family have been stewards of this heavenly spot ever since, and now they share it with a public who would be well advised to take advantage of the joys and the lessons this marvelous and magical place offers.
Janice Keene (nee Trimble) and her crew have laid on an astonishing number of historical, agricultural, and environmental projects, which could keep visitors returning again and again before they can grasp the full scope. There are projects and summer camps for young folk, tours through history and environmental sustainability for adults, and available event spaces for those who want a wedding, party, or reunion celebrated in this rustic ambiance.
But though I am a retired history teacher and a great reveler in, and spinner of tales of the past, I have discovered that it is none of these which keep bringing me back to Evergreen again and again for well over a dozen years.
There is tranquillity here. It seeps from the ground, flutters in the leaves, and echoes in the constant bird song which is the natural background music to the human activity here. For the most part, the ruckus of that which calls itself “civilization” seems far away and muted on top of this mount. I feel as if I can breathe. (In the midst of writing this, I paused to open my Merlin app to locate a bird song I couldn’t identify. It was a cedar waxwing. I won’t forget.)
Those privileged to have grown up on this farm do not take it for granted — but sometimes I imagine familiarity blunts their appreciation. It is difficult to find time to stop and admire the view or the quiet (what quiet?!) when there are 18,000 frolicking school kids to herd around the 130-acre property. (Not all at one time, thankfully!)
But those of us lucky enough to be here on parole from the roaring, quarrelsome outside world must not take lightly our good fortune. I don’t spend a great many days here — other responsibilities call — but those few, I treasure deeply. I always climb down the hill refreshed, rejuvenated, ready to shoulder the real world again. Well, mostly. But I urge my two readers to explore Evergreen — and all the other wonderful historic and scenic sites with which our county is blessed. Sometimes locals forget to avail themselves of local treasures; that’s human nature. But if you venture out, you will certainly learn a great deal.
If you visit Evergreen, stop and breathe. Truly breathe. You will sleep like a baby that night.