Let’s climb to the top of Midwinter Hill.

In the book, The Hidden Life of Trees (pub. Greystone Books, 2015), Peter Wohlleben talks about how trees are connected to one another: that beeches for instance “are capable of friendship and go so far as to feed each other”; trees become friends that “communicate by means of olfactory, visual, and electrical signals”, and “warn each other using chemical signals sent through the fungal networks around their root tips.” Despite being an enthralling read, this didn’t really surprise me – after all, the entirety of the natural world is interconnected – but with every page I turned, something stirred in the rich soil of my imagination.

By writing these short introductions, it struck me how there’s usually at least two unrelated things that unite to create my stories. For instance, while reading Wohlleben’s book, I overheard a work colleague discuss his plans for the coming Christmas. His mother had passed away that year, and, as she had loved the holiday so much, the family were keen that she still took part in that year’s celebrations. They agreed that they would decorate her grave with a Christmas tree.

Before I knew it, On Midwinter Hill was drafted. Since then, the story has had multiple title changes, been a tale told in reverse, then finally the version found in the book.

If you’d like to read it, and the other stories, you can buy Corpse Road Blues here.