I’m definitely a dreamy, romantic kind of person, but I haven’t been much for familial nostalgia and digging into family trees until this past year.

Apparently my ancestors, the Hartzogs, Calloways and Goodmans, began farming land in this area back in the mid-1700s. My great-great-great-great (if I count my greats correctly) grandfather Hartzog fought in the Revolutionary War, and Daniel Boone apparently knew and stayed with the Calloways and Hartzogs on his sojourns through the area. In fact, a monument Boone erected still stands in the same Calloway cemetery my relatives lie in beside the New River.

I’ve also discovered that my relatives fought on both sides of the Civil War, as was the case with many North Carolina mountain families. The grandson of my revolutionary war ancestor (my great-great grandfather Hartzog) was a rider with the 1st NC Cavalry (confederate side), and apparently came home with a ceremonial sword that the family record-keeper lost track of. I’m still investigating my Union soldier ancestor. Both came home wounded from the war, as a lot of soldiers did.

The day I took this photo, I had learned about the connection to the Calloway family while visiting my parents. According to my father, one of my great-great grandmothers was a Calloway by birth. After I left his house, I drove up to this spot at Calloway Gap on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and the view took on a whole new meaning for me. It’s pretty darn romantic to think of my family members standing on this same mountaintop, pausing in their farm chores on a warm, late summer afternoon to listen to the buzz of insects, watch the swallows in their evening acrobatics over the blooming flowers, and admire the magnificent splendor of Appalachia.

With all of my soul, I encompass a deep and abiding love for these blue-green rolling mountains, and the knowledge that my ancestors have roamed and loved these hills for over 250 years roots me to the region even more. Can you be heartsick for a place you already live?

It sure feels like it sometimes.

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P.S. In case you’re wondering about the timing, I have definitely considered that my ancestors, who arrived in the NC mountains sometime around 1750, may have contributed to the ousting of the native tribes — I’ll address that in another post and after I’ve done more research.