My wife and I used to own a small place in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania. A tiny house, a barn, tumbled-down stone walls.  Sometimes, we'd load the kids into the car and drive around and admire the little towns scattered among the low rolling hills. 

Here are some images that were in my head as I wrote Harry’s Trees. Maplewood Cemetery was next door to us, a beautiful spot. The library and the restaurant intrigued me.  And then of course, other objects inspire. A hawk feather, an old bank ledger.  Sometimes, a simple photo strikes a chord. The dairy farm – I have no idea where it is – but it was just right for the dairy farm I imagined for one of my characters.

It’s funny how fiction works, blending memory, everyday objects and the needs of your characters as they slowly come into being.

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