They’re too Perfect to Be Mower Mistakes, Says One Local. Unless the Mower’s Possessed.
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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🎤 Audio Overview
Mysterious Lawn Circles Baffle Sequatchie Crossing

Part 1 – The First Circle
Evelyn Pruitt had just finished a morning of pruning her petunias and hollering at the squirrels to “respect boundaries” when she saw it—dead center in her front yard.
A circle.
Not jagged, not scuffed—just perfectly round, four feet wide, grass flattened as though the world’s politest giant had stepped there and tiptoed away.
“Delbert!” she yelled toward the house, thinking maybe her husband had dragged out one of those plastic kiddie pools without telling her.
Delbert emerged, coffee in hand. “Pool? We ain’t owned a pool since Reagan.”
By the time they’d finished arguing over whether the circle was lighter or darker than the rest of the lawn (it was both, depending on which way you squinted), the mail carrier had spotted it and taken three pictures—one for the town Facebook group, one for her sister in Trenton, and one for “personal reasons.”

Part 2 – Multiplication
It didn’t stop with Evelyn.
The next morning, a near-identical circle appeared in front of Boot Barnes’ place. Boot initially blamed it on his cousin’s donkey, Gladys, but changed his mind when he realized the circle was too perfect and, frankly, too polite to be donkey work.
By the end of the week:
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Three circles graced the front lawn of the Piggly Wiggly (side-by-side like three pancakes).
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One appeared right in the grassy median in front of City Hall.
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The First Baptist Church lawn sported two—prompting speculation about biblical signs and/or mower accidents during a heat stroke.
Each was symmetrical, almost artistically so.
Sheriff Peeler commented at Rotary that he’d “seen plenty of yard damage in his day—four-wheeler donuts, dog digging, even a peacock incident—but never something so symmetrical it gave you chills.”

Part 3 – The Theories Begin
Once the pictures hit Facebook, Sequatchie Crossing split into distinct factions, each convinced their explanation was correct.
The Alien Truthers
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Led by Clovis Strickland, who claimed the circles matched a pattern he’d once seen “in a documentary they don’t let you rent at Redbox anymore.”
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Clovis began carrying a flashlight and a kitchen colander at night, “just in case of telepathic interference.”
The Occult Watchdogs
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Pastor Peeler warned during Sunday sermon that “even the Devil appreciates tidy geometry” and urged members to stay alert for goats with unfamiliar markings.
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This was poorly received by Mrs. Lila Mae, who owns three goats, all of which now wear sweaters reading NOT EVIL.
The Deep State Investigators
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Mabel Dean Ashcroft swore she saw a low, black helicopter at 3:17 a.m. “hovering over my zinnias like it was counting them.”
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She also claimed the circles were a prelude to “controlled property value manipulation.”
The Lawn Care Conspiracy Theorists
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Boot Barnes was convinced an out-of-town landscaping crew was staging the circles to create demand for “circle removal packages.”
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“Mark my words,” Boot said, “next week they’ll be at the gas station handing out coupons.”

Part 4 – The Social Spiral
The Facebook group “Sequatchie County Happenings” became ground zero for speculation.
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Someone overlaid all the circle locations on a county map, claiming they formed the outline of a giant chicken drumstick.
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Others argued it looked more like a clarinet.
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One post claimed the circles aligned perfectly with known underground water lines, though this was disproven by a plumbing diagram from 1978… which only made people trust it more.
Sheriff Peeler, weary of the panic, made a post assuring everyone there was “no threat to life or property,” but included the phrase “as far as we can tell”, which only fanned the flames.
By Tuesday, the circles had been blamed for:
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Two cases of vertigo.
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A dog refusing to use its usual bathroom spot.
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Mild Wi-Fi interference at the library.

Part 5 – Escalation
Things came to a head when Mayor Teeter called a special Town Hall meeting.
Meeting Highlights:
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Clovis arrived with a pointer stick, a manila folder labeled “Classified Lawn Data”, and a cooler of off-brand soda “for morale.”
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Evelyn’s grandson passed around a Ziploc bag labeled “Circle Dirt.” It was, in fact, just regular dirt, but it was sniffed reverently.
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Mabel Dean demanded an investigation into “magnetic soil anomalies” and suggested the county apply for FEMA funding.
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Boot Barnes asked if the circles could be relocated to his ex-brother-in-law’s yard.
The mayor promised to “allocate resources proportionate to the urgency of the situation,” which no one understood but sounded official enough for the meeting to end.

Part 6 – The Break in the Case
The truth finally emerged in the least cinematic way possible—at a Saturday morning yard sale.
A tourist, browsing a card table of gently used VHS tapes, spotted a teenager across the street flying a hobby drone. The drone was tethered with a light and a circular measuring attachment, hovering precisely over a patch of grass.
Turns out, a group of local high schoolers were running a science fair experiment titled:
“How Precision Drone Hovering Affects Grass Compression Patterns”
Hypothesis: “It will look weird.”
Conclusion: “It really does.”
They’d been testing at night to avoid wind interference, never realizing they were scaring half the town into alien preparedness drills.

Part 7 – Reactions
When the news broke:
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Pastor Peeler breathed a sigh of relief but still warned against “dabbling in drone mischief.”
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Mabel Dean insisted the kids were “government agents in training” and refused to delete her helicopter post.
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Clovis claimed this only proved his point that “we’re conditioning the next generation to accept aerial surveillance as normal.”
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Boot offered the kids $20 to “accidentally” make a circle in front of his cousin’s wedding venue.
Evelyn? She just mowed over hers and said, “I’ve got better things to worry about than alien landscaping.”

Part 8 – The Lingering Mystery
Even after the reveal, some insisted the kids were only covering for a bigger truth.
Three weeks later, a new circle appeared—slightly larger, in the soccer field behind the high school. The kids swore it wasn’t them.
Clovis was last seen in the parking lot, pointing skyward and saying, “They’re back. And this time, they’ve upgraded.”
Disclaimer
The Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch is a work of satirical fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or drone-based lawn phenomena is entirely coincidental, though not necessarily implausible. We cannot confirm or deny the existence of extraterrestrials, government property value manipulation programs, or black helicopters over Mabel Dean’s hydrangeas. Please consult your local lawn care professional before drawing geometric conclusions in your yard.
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory

Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:
- Fall Creek Bike Shop
- Little Caesars
- Dunlap Grapevine
- Coops Creek Greenway Trail Head
- Udder Yum Ice Cream Shoppe
- Elliott’s Bobcat & Backhoe
- Bluff View Art District
- Stevenson Branch Campsite
- Coldwell Banker Pryor Realty Inc.
- Agricultural Extension Services
- Farm 58
- The Old Tar Woodworker
- Sequatchie County Recycling Center
- Main Street Automotive
- Signal Mtn And Dunlap Sell, Trade, Buy
- Reynolds Seal Coating Company
- Hairitage
- Switchgrass Farm

Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.












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