UPDATE:  The Heard Cemetery court case was settled privately not long ago and is safe from development or having any homes built on it. According to this article, a key to the case was the discovery of an old deed that granted the Heards’ male heirs ownership of the cemetery in perpetuity.

As you’ve learned from this blog, small but remarkable cemeteries can be tucked away in some surprising places. This week I visited one I read about last year and it’s embroiled in a legal battle that shows no sign of being resolved anytime soon.

Heard Family Cemetery is located in Fulton County at the end of Heards Drive, a narrow road lined with multi-million dollar homes. It’s a quiet haven, with about 30 or so visible grave stones with many more unmarked. Unlike some neighborhood cemeteries slowly sliding into ruin under vines and branches, this one is lovingly cared for by its neighbors.

This area is also near the site of what was once called Isom’s Ferry. If you’ve lived in Atlanta for any length of time, you know that many of the roads are named after the pioneer-operated ferries on the Chattahoochee River during the 1800s, such as Paces, McGinnis and Johnson. Isom’s Ferry was operated by James Isom until 1868.

Located at the confluence of Sope Creek and the Chattahoochee River, this land is historically important because Union troops first crossed here on their way south to Atlanta during the Civil War. A well-written article by Kimberly Brigance, Clarke Otten and Michael Hitt describes the events that took place in July 1864.

During that summer, President Abraham Lincoln faced re-election and his prospects were not good. Confederate troops had racked up a high number of Union casualties at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. General William T. Sherman knew that for Lincoln to have any chance of being re-elected, Atlanta had to fall by November. The Chattahoochee was the last natural barrier between Union troops and Atlanta and Isom’s Ferry was thought to be the weakest point at that time.

On July 7, Sherman sent troops to the Sope Creek area with orders of little noise and no fires. On July 8, Union soldiers on ridges along the Sope Creek side of the river opened a barrage of rifle and cannon fire aimed at the Confederate position. About a hundred soldiers came out of the woods toward the river, firing across it at the water level.

From behind the ridge, 25 pontoon boats carrying soldiers went into Sope Creek and headed downstream toward the opposite bank of the river. Confederate gunners are reported to have only gotten off one shot before being overtaken. By day’s end, Federal engineers had two pontoon bridges in place shuttling more men and equipment into Sandy Springs. Union troops held three hill tops, one being the home of the Heard family and present location of the Heard Family Cemetery.

Judge James S. Heard was born to William “Buck” Heard (a blacksmith) and Rebecca Gill Heard in 1835. During the Civil War, Judge Heard served in the Ninth Battalion of the Georgia Artillery and is said to have been present at Appomattox when General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant. In 1868, Judge Heard bought Isom’s Ferry from James Isom and operated it until 1890 so it was renamed Heard’s Ferry.

Judge Heard’s first wife, Abie, was Isom’s daughter and together, they had several children. Some died in infancy but several lived to adulthood and had families of their own.

After Abie died in 1882, Judge Heard married Athalena Dickerson. She was about 20 years his junior and they, too, had several children. Judge Heard lived to the ripe age of 96, celebrating his birthday each year on August 7 with a festive barbecue at his farm that was attended by many locals and family members.

The stones at the Heard Family Cemetery tell stories of lives short and long, especially children who died in infancy. Many of them are the grandchildren of Judge Heard and his wives.

James “Jim” Heard was Judge Heard and Abie’s son. As a police officer, Jim made headlines when he was shot and killed during the 1906 Atlanta race riot. He and his 19-year-old bride, Stella Sowers, had been married less than a year. Originally buried at Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, Jim was moved several months later to Heard Family Cemetery.

One of the more intriguing graves is that of Judge Heard and Abie’s eldest son, Newton Heard and his wife, Ellen. A tree is growing up the back of the stone and is actually notched on top of it, using it as a support. I don’t see that very often.

In 1900, with hopes of creating a permanent resting place for himself and his descendants, Judge Heard deeded the cemetery to his family. All went well until the mid-1990s when Fulton County, for reasons unknown, began to tax the property despite the fact cemeteries are tax exempt.

What happened next has been reported differently by various media outlets so I’ve done my best to piece things together. The property wound up on the tax assessor’s delinquent list. In December 2007, Mary Ann Elsner filed an affidavit of descent stating that she was the rightful inheritor. Elsner (listed as Mary Ellis in most of the older records) signed legal documents claiming to be the sole surviving heir of Carl Heard Jr., her brother, who was a descendant of Judge Heard.

That same month she sold the property to neighbors Henry and Wanda Cline, who paid the $38,400 tax bill and took possession. In July 2012, the Clines sold the property to attorney Christopher Mills for $1. He is also the Clines’ son-in-law.

Mills’ attempt to build on the portion of the property not containing graves (which is in dispute since a number of unmarked graves exist) was blocked by the City of Sandy Springs, who refused to give Mills a permit to build. Mills sued the city in August 2012, arguing that the land is already zoned for residential use.

All of this has not gone unnoticed by the Heard descendants and neighbors living around the cemetery. They stand with the city in wanting the cemetery to remain as it is and don’t want Mills to build on the property.

Wright Mitchell, the attorney representing the Heard descendants, said as long as there are descendents of Judge Heard that would be eligible to be buried on the land in the future, the entire property should be considered burial grounds and restricted from being used for another purpose.

In a WSB-TV report, he said, “Mr. Mills may be building his house on top of graves that haven’t been identified yet.”

“I don’t think it matters how much of it is being used, there are decedents who do plan to be buried there in the future and that’s what the land was set aside for,” Heard descendant Nancy Smith said at a 2013 hearing about the lawsuit.

Georgia Court of Appeals judges John J. Ellington and Carla Wong McMillian heard the case in September 2014. After deliberating on the matter, they will send their decision to the parties’ lawyers at a date yet to be determined. It could take months before this happens so the fate of the Heard Family Cemetery remains in limbo.

In the meantime, Heard descendants and cemetery neighbors have created a Save the Heard Family Cemetery Facebook page here they post updates on the case. They also have a PayPal account where supporters can contribute to paying for the legal fees incurred.

It’s heartbreaking that an error that began with the taxation of a cemetery that’s exempt from it was the catalyst for what may spell the end for a historic site. Mr. Mills contends that he can build on the remaining part of the property. But having seen the property myself, I think it would be very hard to do so without disturbing the graves (including the unmarked ones you can’t see).

As I walked around the cemetery this week, a gentle breeze hinting of spring stirred the daffodils as I examined the old stones. Unlike many family cemeteries, it’s not fenced off or locked up. The Heard Family Cemetery is a lovely oasis amid a neighborhood that takes care of it and wants it to remain undisturbed, for both Judge Heard’s descendants and newcomers like me seeing it for the first time.

I think that’s something well worth saving.

Last week I wrote about the Bios Urn, a biodegradable container that holds a tree seed that you add human cremains (ashes) to before planting it in the ground. The symbolism this evokes is that when you die, you can become a tree.

During my research, I came across another novel (if not unsettling) concept that is getting attention: the composting of human remains. Yes, you read that right. The notion of taking a human body and turning it into compost you can use in soil is on the drawing board.

You know what that immediately made me think of, don’t you?

Soylent Green, a futuristic film set in 2022, is about how a renegade cop (played by Charleton Heston) discovers that the food provided by the government called Soylent Green is not made of the plankton it is said to contain. Soylent Green is actually made from the protein found in human bodies. By the movie’s end, a screaming Charleton (“Soylent Green is people!”) is being carried away while the crowd watching thinks he’s lost his marbles.

The kind of human composting being proposed now does not involve creating little green squares for direct mass consumption. But it does mean turning a human body into compost that can be used in real soil to grow edible plants and ornamental trees/flowers.

Katrina Spade, an architect based in Seattle, Wash., founded the Urban Death Project. I am borrowing liberally from an article by Brendan Kiley about human composting that goes into great detail about her ideas. She came up with the idea in 2011.

Spade envisions building a three-story building where mourners could bring their dead. Friends and family would go with the unembalmed departed (wrapped in a shroud) up a circular ramp to the top of the “core,” or central decomposition chamber. What follows could be a type of ceremony during which the body would be placed into a mix of wood chips, straw and other organic material.

The core where the body is placed would be divided up into 10 “bays” — similar to elevator shafts — with several bodies in various stages of decomposition in each bay, separated from the bodies above and below by several feet of wood chips. Gravity and microbial activity would time the speed of each body’s descent.

After a few weeks or months (this is still being researched), loved ones would return to the building to pick up the remains, which have become an organic substance consisting of partially or wholly decayed vegetable or animal matter (also known as humus with one “m”, not the hummus made of chick peas). They could then use it to fertilize their own garden or leave it there to be used on the gardens surrounding the facility.

Spade refers to this process as being “cremation by carbon”.

Kiley’s article includes an interview with soil scientist Lynne Carpenter-Boggs. She states that based on the elemental composition of human bodies, the compost from a 200 lb. person could produce six pounds of nitrogen, two pounds of phosphorus, and one pound of potassium. These are  three nutrients typically listed on fertilizers.

“I know this is going to be an offensive simplification of the value of a human body,” she says. “but one could compare the fertilizer value to 100 pounds of cottonseed meal.”

How long it takes for a human body to decompose has been studied in recent years by places like the University of Tennessee’s “Body Farm” (which inspired the popular Kay Scarpetta mysteries). Spade did travel to Western Carolina University, which has a similar facility, to see how scientists are studying the natural decomposition of human remains in the outdoors

But doesn’t this process create a foul smell?

Spade said in a recent interview, “There is no smell. And that’s going to be accomplished by a number of ways, primarily through biofilters in the system. A good compost pile really doesn’t have much of an odor, and that’s because there’s a right mix of nitrogen and carbon and moisture and oxygen.”

Having received an $80,000 grant from the global non-profit Echoing Green to further develop her ideas, Spade hopes to get the operation up and running within the next few years. While the UDP has architectural designs for a potential facility, they need funds and a site upon which to build it.

The project will also have to overcome significant legal and regulatory hurdles. State law requires that all human remains be buried, cremated, donated to science or transferred out of state. The UDP would also have to get a license to operate a funeral home, according to the Washington state Department of Licensing. Local zoning restrictions, which require composting facilities to be outside populated areas, would also come into play.

Another more esoteric issue that arises from human composting is anonymously becoming a collective part of the soil along with hundreds of other people instead of burying an individual. I fully concede it’s something I can’t personally embrace. But others seem to like the idea quite a lot.

Spade admits that this communal pile, instead of individual plots of land or a special urn, is a psychological leap. “I’m asking people to accept that we don’t all need our own space when we die.”

I understand that the practice of placing a body full of embalming fluid in a metal container in the ground is distasteful to many people and not exactly eco-friendly. But using compost that was once my Uncle George (and other people near him) so I can produce prize-winning tomatoes that can go into my salad is not one I can stomach either.

Many people I talk to say “I’m going to be dead so what does it matter?”. That opinion has merit and I understand it. But the unique rituals of the funeral and burial (which can be “green” and impact the earth more gently) are for the living, not the dead.

After my death, I want to leave my loved ones a place and a way to remember me if they choose. I don’t want to be taken to a “core” and composted with dozens of strangers.

And since I have a “black thumb” in the garden, even compost made from Uncle George wouldn’t help any tomatoes I planted survive.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer (his given name was Albert Joyce Kilmer so many mistakenly think he was a she) wrote “Trees” in 1913. The poem is often scoffed at for being overly simplistic. But “Trees” remains memorable, unlike other more pretentious works. People love trees. Some even want to become a tree after they die.

So it’s not surprising that people are going bonkers over a fairly recent alternative to traditional burial called a Bios Urn. At least a dozen people have forwarded me articles about it, so I knew I had to see what they were all about.

Here’s how it works. You place some soil from where you intend to plant the urn in the top half along with the tree seed. You then pour the ashes into the bottom half. The two parts are secured together, which can then be planted. Bios Urns’ website recommends that the urn be planted five centimeters (about two inches) from the surface.

The Bios Urns website says the urn requires the same care as a normal tree: water, sunlight and a good temperature. This can vary according to the kind of tree you choose so they recommend that you read up on whether or not it is a good variety to plant in your specific area.

The Bios Urn tree seed eventually grows roots and breaks into the lower section where the ashes are, which are supposed to serve as fertilizer. Voila, you’re now part of a tree!

While one advertised benefit of the Bios Urn is that you can plant it almost anywhere, I don’t know if cemeteries are too keen on them. You’d have to get permission to plant it and they would be the ones in charge of maintaining it for you. Since most traditional cemeteries are very focused on maintaining easy grass mowing, they may not allow it. However, the new “green cemeteries” would likely be happy to handle that request.

My thoughts on the long-term implications go into overdrive when I consider this. If my Aunt Harriet wants to be buried in her back yard, what’s going to happen if the property is eventually sold? Do you dig her, I mean, the tree up and take it somewhere else? If Aunt Harriet wants to be buried in a park, you’d probably have to get permission. If you own family land, you could plant the urn there. But what happens years from now after you die and your heir chooses to sell the landt? What do you do if the tree dies?

I did read about proposed BiosParks where you could plant your Bios Urn and monitor it via GoogleEarth. But I couldn’t find any information about whether or not that ever became reality.

What I wanted to find out was if the concept of using human cremains as tree fertilizer is scientifically valid. Here’s what I came up with.

After a body is cremated, the resulting ashes and bone fragments are left to cool. A device then pulverizes the bone fragments into a fine dust with a consistency similar to sand. There’s nothing organic left behind.

What exactly are cremains made up of? The graphic below breaks down just that. Almost half of human ashes are made up of phosphate and a fourth of it is calcium.

Some gardeners believe that calcium phosphate makes an excellent fertilizer. But I’ve also read that when produced at higher temperatures (like fire from a crematorium), it can become insoluble and not very useful as a fertilizer.

A company called Let Your Love Grow (LYLG) has done extensive research that shows that cremains have a very high pH level that hinders their ability to release any helpful nutrients. Also, cremated ashes contain sodium in amounts that range from 200 to 2000 times what plant life can tolerate.

LYLG published a photo that shows how 16 months after burial, a biodegradable urn has completely dissolved (I have no idea if this is a Bios Urn). The ashes are left in concentration and may remain that way for years. Plant roots will inevitably turn away from this clump of salty rock.

To remedy that, LYLG sells a special mixture that, when added to regular soil and cremains, balances out the high pH level/sodium. This enables people to then bury their loves one’s cremains without harming the soil or any surrounding plant life.

Discovery News’ article about Bios Urn points out that “plants that like acidic soil might find that the ashes raise the pH of the soil too much for comfort.”

I’m not enough of a scientist to say whether or not these concerns are valid. Perhaps there’s something in the Bios Urn itself that makes the growth process of the roots into the ashes work well with the local soil. The Bios Urns website is vague on those horticultural particulars.

Bios Urn can be purchased directly from their website for about $145 with shipping costs being variable. The cost is the same for Bios Urns for pets. Some retailers sell them as well. Bios Urns’ website claims that over 7,000 have been sold.

Puerto Rican-based Spiritree sells a similar urn. Their cost is a bit higher at $225 and the process is a little different in how the ashes are introduced to the roots. Another option on the horizon is the actual composting of human remains, but current state laws forbid it. I plan on writing about that soon.

I’m sure many people will continue to be enamored with the symbolic idea of becoming a tree. Me? I don’t think so. Because this is the mental picture I get when I think about it. And that’s one I don’t think I can live (or die) with.