From the Pacific Hedge to the Ancient Stone: Why Appalachia is the perfect Druid's Home

For twenty years, I walked the ancient, vibrant groves of the Pacific Northwest. Oregon was my territory, a land of massive, young volcanic peaks, colossal, fast-growing forests, and the ceaseless, wild power of the ocean. It was an essential chapter in my 40-plus years as a Hedge Druid, where the Imbas—that divine, flowing inspiration—felt raw, vital, and new.

But last New Years, I made Eastern Tennessee my permanent home, trading the damp, youthful energy of the Cascades for the quiet, deep resonance of the Southern Appalachians. I settled onto my niece's six-acre homestead in Cosby, within the Cerren Ered intentional community. And, as the mists roll over these ridges, I’ve found a truth whispered from the mountains themselves: 

this place is not just like the Celtic homelands; it is their geological and cultural echo.

The Mountains Remember: Same Stone, Same Spirit

Appalachia is an echo of Scotland, born of the same stone. This isn’t folklore; it’s geology. Hundreds of millions of years ago, the land that would become North America, Ireland, and Scotland were slammed together in the ancient supercontinent, Pangaea. When the continents later split, the 

Appalachian chain was simply the other side of the Atlantic from the Scottish Highlands.

As a Hedge Druid, this matters. The ancient mountains hold the memory of the Earth deep in their rock—a deep, patient, and complex energy. After two decades walking volcanic ground, walking these mountains feels like coming home to a grandfather, whose wisdom is worn smooth and whose roots run deeper than the oldest redwood.

The Hedge-Crossing Ancestors: The Scots-Irish Tapestry

This geological kinship created a perfect draw for the Scots-Irish (Ulster Scots). These ancestors—my ancestors, and the heart of Appalachian culture—were a people twice displaced, seeking a remote land where they could live by their ancient values. They settled in these hidden hollows and lonely ridges, finding a landscape that mirrored the moors and hills they left behind.

In their isolation, their traditions blended with the knowledge of the Cherokee, forming a unique tapestry of American folk wisdom. For the Hedge Druid, this cultural preservation is profound:

    ● The Unquiet Dead: Many of the most iconic Appalachian ballads, like "Barbara Allen" or "Pretty Polly," are direct descendants of medieval British murder ballads. They speak of betrayal, death, and the land itself singing the truth. 

We just hosted Samhain, the perfect time to honor the ancestors and walk that veil, and here, the ancestral stories are literally woven into the music and folklore of the mountains.

    ● ​The Granny Witch: Appalachian "Granny Magic"—that beautiful fusion of herbalism, prayer, and folk charm—is the direct continuation of Celtic "fairy doctoring" and the wisdom of the bean feasa (wise woman). Every elder who knows how to use Mullein for protection or Yellowroot for healing is keeping the flame of Old World folk practice alive.

    ● ​The Fae: The Scots-Irish brought their belief in the Aos Sí (fae or spirits of place). Here, the belief persists in the form of "haints" or "boogers"—non-human intelligences that inhabit specific springs, groves, and hollows. This confirms what any Druid knows: the genius loci, the powerful spirit of this place, is strong, wise, and deserving of respect.

​Finding Imbas in the Hollows

​In the Pacific Northwest, the Imbas roared like a waterfall. In Appalachians, in the heart of these ancient, rolling hills, the Imbas is a quiet, persistent heartbeat. It is in the sheep grazing the rocky slopes and the heavy mist that rises from the valleys at dawn. It is the wisdom preserved not in books, but in the resilient spirit of the Scots-Irish, who carved out a life that mirrored the deep earth wisdom of the places they left behind.

​I am home. In these mountains, the past is never far away, and the work of the Hedge Druid—walking the boundaries, speaking for the stones, and honoring the Ancestors—is a continuation of a story centuries in the making.