Tales from the Driftless

I grew up in these hills. The bluffs, the coulees, the river bends, the cornfields that stretch farther than they should these are the places I know. The small towns and unincorporated stretches of road. The old bars, the landings, the farms that sit quiet under heavy snow. I have driven these back roads at night. I have walked the edges of those fields. I have stood on the frozen river and listened. These stories come from that ground. In the Driftless Area of western Wisconsin, the land has a long memory. The corn rearranges itself after dark. The river brings things back. Small places decide who still belongs. Old songs lose their power. Soft ground waits. And something patient moves beneath the surface of ordinary days. This collection is my attempt to put that feeling into words - the quiet, rooted kind of dread that belongs to this particular stretch of country. Not the horror of what chases you, but the horror of what has always been here, waiting for you to notice it again. This is the places I come from.