Our family land in Ohio is officially classified as a “tree farm,” but it’s really a working forest—hundreds of acres of hardwoods managed for selective harvesting. No twinkling lights or families posing for Christmas card photos. Just quiet hills, long shadows, and the creak of old-growth trunks in the wind. I’ll be out there this weekend checking trails, inspecting storm damage, and helping plan the next selective cut. It’s slow work, peaceful in a way—though “peaceful” is relative when you’re stepping over deer trails, listening for coyotes, and trying not to twist an ankle on a hillside full of loose shale. Forests like this have a personality all their own. When I write Dorwine’s great woods—Verdant Belt, Titanfall Forest, or the places Anuka insists on wandering into—I draw heavily from this land. The quiet, the unpredictability, the sense that something old is watching… all of that comes straight from home. I’ll try to grab a few photos while I’m out there. (Assuming the signal holds long enough to upload anything.) | 
