Despite growing up on a rural farm, word traveled far and wide about the lack of representation from across the vast pond known as the Atlantic. The constraints of greater assertions of control after what father (a veteran of the French and Indian War himself) described as a land worth fighting for. Tensions had been high for quite some time, and father could see the look in my eyes. It was like seeing a younger version of himself, having been the same age when his call to duty came in 1754. Father taught us the virtues of hard work, the responsibilities and price of freedom, and the value of wisdom. It is for these reasons that in 1775 when I was 22 years of age, he did not resist when I told him I felt a duty to pursue liberty. The pain in father's eyes the day I left to join the cause was clear. Mother was crying. When they both embraced me they did not try to convince me to stay. Mother told me to write often, father told me to remember what he had taught me, and both spoke of how proud they were and hoped I come back safe.

The Continental Army initially put me on a vessel, but it didn't take long for them to realize I was much more suited for the militia. A lifetime of hunting, gathering and stalking made me much more valuable in the hills. Ambushing redcoats, disrupting supply lines, and giving an illusion of the forests themselves rebelling against the soldiers sent by tyrants.

Now, at the age of 34, I sit here on the porch in quiet reflecting after the day's chores. Now the owner of the family farm with a family of my own. Reading Thomas Jefferson's words “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” I wonder if my own children will have to pay the heavy emotional, psychological, or God forbid physical price of freedom. My own demons pay me visits from time to time, but gazing upon the fields my children and I sew our living I am at peace.


This is a wonderful piece of art that, although is based in a different era I live in, reflects upon the ideals my family has held for generations. Possibly even as far back as the art reflects as I have traced my family tree back to an area that would eventually become Tennessee in the early to mid 18th century.

The artist is  thelupinprincess and I highly recommend them.

I accidentally sent the artist the wrong flag reference for the Betsy Ross. She was kind enough to correct it so this is a repost with corrected flag.