From Blooms to Battleground: Anne Frobel’s Civil War Garden
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
May 24, 1861
On this day, dear readers, we find ourselves transported to the tumultuous era of the American Civil War, peering into the life of 45-year-old Anne Frobel.
This remarkable woman, residing outside Alexandria, Virginia, not far from the hallowed grounds of Mount Vernon, began her Civil War diary with these poignant words:
I never saw 'Wilton' my dear old home looking more lovely and inviting.
The trees and plants had put on their loveliest spring attire, and the garden was resplendent with the bloom of rare and brilliant flowers, and the fields were all smiling with a bright prospect of an abundant harvest.
Oh, what a vivid tableau Anne paints with her words!
Can you not envision the verdant beauty of Wilton, its garden a riot of color, the fields promising a bountiful yield?
Yet, how swiftly this idyllic scene was to change.
The very next day, Anne's farmhouse, like many homes in Alexandria and along the Potomac, was seized by Union soldiers seeking quarters.
Picture, if you will, the shock and dismay as these uninvited guests invaded the tranquil sanctuary of Wilton.
Anne shared her home with her sister Lizzie, both women having never married. Their diary offers us a rare glimpse into the lives of Southern women during the Civil War, enduring four long years of occupation as troops and scavengers pillaged their land for firewood, food, and water.
One can only imagine the inner turmoil Anne must have felt as she was forced to play hostess to those she viewed as invaders.
In one particularly galling incident, Anne recounts how a Union officer, while dining at her table, regaled them with a tale of how he had destroyed the last turnips. Her response, penned in her diary, speaks volumes:
My very blood boiled!
In these four simple words, we feel the full force of Anne's anger and frustration.
The destruction of the turnips was not merely the loss of a crop, but a symbolic desecration of her beloved garden, her home, her way of life.
As we reflect on Anne's diary, let us consider the stark contrast between the beauty she described on that first day and the hardships that followed. Her garden, once "resplendent with the bloom of rare and brilliant flowers," became a battleground of sorts, a microcosm of the larger conflict tearing the nation apart.
For us modern gardeners, Anne's account serves as a poignant reminder of the resilience of both nature and the human spirit.
In times of conflict and hardship, gardens can become sanctuaries, sources of sustenance, and symbols of hope.
May we tend our own plots with the same devotion Anne showed to Wilton, appreciating the peace and beauty they offer, even in challenging times.