Historic Dogwood Tree, Huntsville Botanical Garden, Hunstville, AL 2009 (Photo courtesy Michael Hartley) I fell in love with the dogwood flower around the time I turned sixteen. I was in Opp, Alabama, visiting my grandmother; my family and I were just finishing up our traditional walk down the dirt road that runs parallel to her house. The spring air, sopping in the sweet scents of wild honeysuckle and wisteria, consumed us. This is home, I remember thinking to myself. We are home. My father and I walked hand-in-hand. He peeled himself away for a moment and slowly walked toward a tree near my grandmother’s property. While admirably examining the tree, he motioned for my family and me to come closer. We did. Frustrated, as my hand felt shockingly vacant from my father’s release, I remember thinking: It just looks like a crooked old tree with some boring old blooms. The closer we got, however, the more those same blooms came to life.
“This is a dogwood tree, girls,” my father said, delicately taking a flower off one of its many branches. “But it’s more than just a tree with little, white flowers,” he continued, “There’s a legend behind it.” A flower with a story, I thought to myself. I was transfixed, bewitched. He then told us the legend of the dogwood: At the time of the crucifixion, the dogwood had been the same size as all the other trees in the forest. It was known not only for its beauty, but for its strength. Thus, it was chosen to be used as the timber for the cross. For its wood to be used for such a cruel purpose as to crucify the King of Kings, the tree became distressed. As He was suffering, the Lord, aware of the tree’s distress, promised it that it would never be large enough again for its wood to be used for a cross. Henceforth, the tree would become bent and twisted—its blossoms would gleam white, as to symbolize the Son of God’s purity, and the petals would be in the shape of a cross. The outer edge of each petal would be stained red so as to symbolize the nails that punctured Christ’s hands and feet, and in the center of the flower would lay a crown of thorns. After telling us the legend of the dogwood, my father placed in my hair the flower that he had recently plucked and smiled as he whispered, “And all who see it will remember.”
The dogwood has fascinated me ever since and has become my favorite flower. When it blooms, and it only blooms for about two weeks in the beginning of April (always around Easter, coincidentally enough), I feel like a sixteen-year-old again, walking with my family and listening to my father both regale and educate us with the dogwood’s divine legend. That same spring, I began to do some research. I became somewhat of a dogwood aficionado. While studying and reading up on the dogwood, I stumbled upon the most beautiful photograph of the biggest dogwood tree that I had ever seen. I thought this tree is more than likely inaccessible to me; it’s just too good to be true. I would later come to find that the tree wasn’t always too good to be true; I was just too late.
The majestic dogwood tree was more than 120 years old and was located in Huntsville at the Huntsville Botanical Gardens. The dogwood was moved from an old homestead on Old Madison Pike to the Gardens on May 17, 1996, as a result of highway construction. It was 23 feet tall and 44 feet wide, weighing approximately 83,000 pounds. The community both physically and financially helped with the re-placement of the tree and, according to a plaque that remains at the Gardens, the tree “reflects the caring spirit” that resides within the community. The pictures of the stark white dogwood continued to entice me as I was doing my research. I became so excited that I began planning a road trip with my family up to north Alabama just to see this magnificent tree! Unfortunately, I would come to find that the tree had died and that it was no longer there at the Gardens. Old age and rot, they said. It had lived much longer than most. This stunning piece of natural history had disappeared; I was beyond disappointed.
Though the tree is no longer there at the Huntsville Botanical Gardens, its spirit lives on as around 30 percent of the tree was saved, allowing its admirers to plant new dogwoods in its memory. I’ve also come to find that Huntsville is a hot spot for dogwood trees and, according to the locals, they bloom and spread like wildfire in the spring! Garth Road in southeast Huntsville, Adams Street in Huntsville’s Historic District, and Maple Hill Cemetery, the oldest cemetery in Huntsville, are supposedly all fantastic places to see dogwood blooms. And though the Huntsville Botanical Gardens no longer has the mother of all dogwood trees, it still has a stunning dogwood trail – with sporadic natural dogwoods spanning for miles.
I often imagine what it would have been like to stand, dance, sing, and write under that tree. I try to look at it as truth to the legend. God did say that he would never make the dogwood tree big enough for its wood to be used in the making of a cross ever again. Though it lived a long, happy life, the Gardens’ dogwood had to live up to its legend. And it did, with beauty and grace. Though gone, it remains a large part of not only Huntsville’s history, but Alabama’s history. Not only a large part of Alabama’s history, but of my history. It is when I admirably examine a dogwood tree and its stunning blooms, just like my father did, that I’m reminded of family, of faith, of stories, and of home. I’m much like a dogwood in that way—just trying to live up to my legend.
The dogwood has fascinated me ever since and has become my favorite flower. When it blooms, and it only blooms for about two weeks in the beginning of April (always around Easter, coincidentally enough), I feel like a sixteen-year-old again, walking with my family and listening to my father both regale and educate us with the dogwood’s divine legend. That same spring, I began to do some research. I became somewhat of a dogwood aficionado. While studying and reading up on the dogwood, I stumbled upon the most beautiful photograph of the biggest dogwood tree that I had ever seen. I thought this tree is more than likely inaccessible to me; it’s just too good to be true. I would later come to find that the tree wasn’t always too good to be true; I was just too late.
The majestic dogwood tree was more than 120 years old and was located in Huntsville at the Huntsville Botanical Gardens. The dogwood was moved from an old homestead on Old Madison Pike to the Gardens on May 17, 1996, as a result of highway construction. It was 23 feet tall and 44 feet wide, weighing approximately 83,000 pounds. The community both physically and financially helped with the re-placement of the tree and, according to a plaque that remains at the Gardens, the tree “reflects the caring spirit” that resides within the community. The pictures of the stark white dogwood continued to entice me as I was doing my research. I became so excited that I began planning a road trip with my family up to north Alabama just to see this magnificent tree! Unfortunately, I would come to find that the tree had died and that it was no longer there at the Gardens. Old age and rot, they said. It had lived much longer than most. This stunning piece of natural history had disappeared; I was beyond disappointed.
Though the tree is no longer there at the Huntsville Botanical Gardens, its spirit lives on as around 30 percent of the tree was saved, allowing its admirers to plant new dogwoods in its memory. I’ve also come to find that Huntsville is a hot spot for dogwood trees and, according to the locals, they bloom and spread like wildfire in the spring! Garth Road in southeast Huntsville, Adams Street in Huntsville’s Historic District, and Maple Hill Cemetery, the oldest cemetery in Huntsville, are supposedly all fantastic places to see dogwood blooms. And though the Huntsville Botanical Gardens no longer has the mother of all dogwood trees, it still has a stunning dogwood trail – with sporadic natural dogwoods spanning for miles.
I often imagine what it would have been like to stand, dance, sing, and write under that tree. I try to look at it as truth to the legend. God did say that he would never make the dogwood tree big enough for its wood to be used in the making of a cross ever again. Though it lived a long, happy life, the Gardens’ dogwood had to live up to its legend. And it did, with beauty and grace. Though gone, it remains a large part of not only Huntsville’s history, but Alabama’s history. Not only a large part of Alabama’s history, but of my history. It is when I admirably examine a dogwood tree and its stunning blooms, just like my father did, that I’m reminded of family, of faith, of stories, and of home. I’m much like a dogwood in that way—just trying to live up to my legend.
Taylor ZimmermanColorado Springs, Colorado
Taylor Zimmerman is a senior at the University of Alabama, majoring in English and minoring in Creative Writing. She has a penchant for all things historic and mysterious; thus, she feels she was born in the wrong era. Daydreaming, storytelling, and Netflix-binge-watching are some of her favorite things to do.
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