The Witches' Tree

I am the Witches’ Tree. Back in the day, I was a tall, perfectly straight maple tree. I was the favorite meeting spot for a coven of local witches, who would meet at night under my branches and cast their spells and brew their potions.

But this all changed in 1889 when the city of Louisville announced plans to chop me down for the next year’s May Day festivities. May Day is something that isn’t celebrated much in this country anymore, but in Victorian times, this was a popular celebration, and the centerpiece of any May Day festivities was the tall, straight tree that was stripped of its bark and then festooned with garlands and greenery as the May pole. Of course when the witches found out about the new plans for me, their beloved tree, they weren’t pleased and they warned the organizers not to fell me.

Alas, they didn’t really take witches very seriously back then, because nobody paid any attention to the witches and a lumberjack went ahead and cut me down. As I crashed to the ground, the witches went shrieking from the neighborhood, to the western part of town where there were still large forests, and they found a new tree for their ceremonies. But before they left, they told the city to beware, because in less than a year they would exact their revenge.

BEWARE ELEVENTH MONTH!

The townsfolk went ahead and had their May Day celebrations and afterward they burned my wood in a great Whitsuntide bonfire. And everyone, except me, forgot about the witches. Until eleven mo