How Myrtle and Maggie Beckoned Me to Tennessee

By Theresa Anthony, Author of In Search of Gopher Hollow

Three years ago, I made a life-changing decision to move from my home state of California all the way across the country to Tennessee. While sitting on my front porch the other day, reflecting on the upcoming three-year anniversary date and admiring the pretty crape myrtle tree I’d planted soon after I landed here, I suddenly experienced an epiphany.

There really is a grand and unseeable plan that guides our steps. Here’s the story…

Back in 2014, after the tragic deaths of my son and my fella within months of each other, I sold the family home. I simply couldn’t bear the weight of heavy loss that was so palpable within those walls. I chose to rent for a while, to allow myself time to heal while deciding my next steps. So, after 29 years as a homeowner, I once again became a renter.

The condo I rented had a small patio yard in back, a lovely, peaceful space that provided the bit of tranquility I was craving. The patio was anchored by two trees, trees that were unusual in Southern California – a crape myrtle and a dwarf magnolia. I came to nickname them “Myrtle” and “Maggie.”

With my nieces in front of Maggie in 2016

After nearly three decades of having yards dominated by various types of palm trees, how I loved having the flowering trees! In Southern California, these particular trees were unique and definitely stood out in stark contrast to the sea of tropical landscapes.

After living there in the rental for three years, a place I called my Healing House, I purchased a condo in the same complex. Right before I moved out, like a fond farewell Myrtle was aflame with her showy fuchsia blossoms. I decided to snap this photo from my upstairs master bedroom to keep as a little souvenir of our time together. Soon after, my daughter and her family moved into that rental.

Glorious Myrtle saying goodbye to me

My daughter had been living in the condo for about three years when they suddenly announced their decision to move out of state to, of all places, Tennessee. Of course, my heart was broken, as it meant my grandkids would be living 2,000 miles away. Still, I pasted a fake smile on my face and was supportive of their decision because they wanted to buy a house someday - an impossibility in CA.

Yep, you guessed it. No way could I handle living so far away from them, so about ten months later, I sold my condo and followed them to Tennessee. That August of 2022, once I’d settled into my cute little ninety-year-old cottage, I began strolling around the neighborhood and taking little drives to familiarize myself with my new surroundings.

And what did I find?

Myrtles and Maggies were literally everywhere! Here in Tennessee, it is quite common to find both crape myrtles and magnolias in the same yard, albeit much larger yards than the little patio back in California, because these trees go together like peanut butter and jelly.

Just one of many yards in my neighborhood with Maggies and Myrtles side by side

A perfect specimen from around the corner

It honestly felt like Myrtle and Maggie had thrown a little welcoming party just for me. I marveled at the large, luscious blooms on the magnolias that reached to the sky, their velvety, buttery flowers fragrant with the scent of lemony musk. I soaked up the pink, lavender, fuchsia, and white crape myrtle blossoms that were sprinkled across the landscape, adding brushstrokes of brilliant color everywhere I looked. Even though I was a newcomer to Tennessee, because I'd had some history with these trees, I instantly felt right at home.

Eventually, it dawned on me that the original owner of that condo in SoCal must have been from the south and had planted those trees to provide herself with some comfort and familiarity amid the vast sea of palms. Who knew?

The following spring, missing Myrtle, I decided to plant a baby tree in my front yard – it couldn’t have been but two feet tall. Planting the crape myrtle helped me feel less like a transplant and more like a local. So, over the past couple of years, I have watched her grow and grow, gaining several feet and bushels of bright fuchsia blossoms with which to entertain me through the dog days of summer.

My Myrtle

On that day, while sitting on the front porch and gazing at her dazzling beauty, it suddenly dawned on me: For a combined period of six years while living in that rental, Myrtle and Maggie had been subconsciously beckoning my daughter and me to come to Tennessee! Using their feminine wiles and natural beauty, these two lured us out of California to start our new lives in the south. Well, ladies, your persistence paid off. Here we are!

 Don't forget to tap the HEART button below

Sometimes, you just want to read a true story of survival and new beginnings,

so order your copy of In Search of Gopher Hollow today: