I’ve often wondered how many people have felt inexplicably drawn to a particular place. It’s a curious sensation, and I’ve experienced it only once. Decades ago, on our first visit to Lobethal, we heard that the nearby village of Birdwood—originally called Blumberg—might hold more clues to our family history. We weren’t disappointed.
The village was quiet and serene, its tree-lined streets inviting leisurely walks. History seemed embedded in every building along the main street, not to mention the Old Mill and the historic hotel.
As someone deeply interested in social history, I was eager to explore the Lutheran church and its cemetery. I walked slowly between the rows of headstones, noting the ages of those buried there and scanning for familiar surnames. A few names rang bells, and I felt a surge of excitement when I spotted the surname Hoffmann from around the right period. But the dates and details didn’t quite match, so I set aside my Blumberg research for the time being.
What stayed with me, though, was an unmistakable pull—toward the town, the cemetery, and one particular grave. It might sound eerie, but the feeling was anything but; it was warm and welcoming.
Once the grave was in the shadow of large headstone. This had since toppled and now lays flat on the ground. Made of an unusual grey stone, it had fractured in places, obscuring some of the lettering. With careful reading, I made out the name: Johannes Gottlob Blumel. Over the years, weathering has taken a further toll on his stone and resting place.
In time, more pieces of the puzzle emerged—stories I’ll share another day:
- The Hoffmann family owned substantial parts of Blumberg from the town’s earliest days. It was the place our branch of the family expanded to after Lobethal. The Lutheran Cemetery is now the final resting place of several relatives. It took patience to distinguish our Hoffmann line from others in the area, but our last known emigrating ancestor farmed there, and he and various family members lie peacefully in the church grounds.
- The old mill? Yes—originally built by our family.
- And Blumel? He was an uncle by marriage (twice over), and like the Hoffmanns, he came from Liegnitz, our ancestral home in Silesia. I’ve since learned a great deal about Uncle Johannes, and I feel I understand something of the man he was—though there’s always more to discover. Many historical accounts credit him with naming the township, some even suggesting it derived from his European birthplace. I can confidently rule that out, but as perhaps the most prominent resident when Blumberg was established, it’s easy to believe he influenced the choice of name.
Uncle Johannes still draws me back to Birdwood. I feel strangely at home there. We’ve returned many times and stayed overnight twice. Our favourite spot is on land that once belonged to Blumel, with views across the Torrens River and to the old mill. It will serve as our base for many future visits.
I remain disappointed that the town is no longer officially known as Blumberg. And I’m saddened by how little recognition J.G. Blumel receives in the place he helped settle. But that, I suppose, is the way of things.
(Photo is from 1912. Is colorised and watermarked with owner)