The Real Evershade

There is a grove of trees quite near my home that has always caught my eye. On the north side is a low field, which becomes the meadow in my book. A little stream wanders through it, separating the meadow from the High Field. The real Evershade, you see, is situated at a place where the land slopes abruptly downward. The stream has cut away the hillside over time, and trees have grown from the hill's base. They tower over the meadow, but the treetops are almost level with the grass of the High Field. 

This fact is made clear when one sees Evershade in the wintertime through the naked branches of the grove. Naturally, this is not when I took the photos, so to you it may simply look like a clump of trees.

At the western of edge of Evershade, the High Field slopes down to the meadow, and the land levels out again. I decided that this would make an excellent place for Mr. Barkwhistle to construct his dam and create his pond. The old beaver is, after all, responsible for burying the dead of Evershade, and it is simple for them to float the bodies down the Fray to his pond on tiny rafts where he can add them to the burial mound.

The western edge of Evershade where Mr. Barkwhistle makes his home, right in that gap where the cattle are grazing...

 

At last, the real Evershade with the meadow where the Walnut Keepers gather herbs and seeds--and where one amazing mouse changes his fate--stretches out before it...

More Locations that Inspired Evershade

July marks the release of my debut novel, "Evershade: Season of Crows," so I am adding more photos of the real locations that inspired the world of the Walnut Keepers.

Torzeria is the "The Holy Place," and it is south of Evershade across the High Field. There is a natural bowl in the land, and where it slopes up, a little grove of trees sits clustered on the edge of the field. This is where I see many turtles cross the stone river each spring, so it seemed natural to make this particular grove the home of the turtles in my book. 

The turtles speak the common language as well as Tortuli, the ancient tongue remembered by the turtles alone. Elder Veil, their leader, is particularly wise and at all times knows more than he lets on. His shell is carved with intricate designs that are filled with beautiful colors. A healthy thatch of moss drips from his shell, and his bright orange throat pulses as he breathes. 

He may be called upon to help Evershade in its hour of need, but what can a single turtle do to change the fate of the kingdom?

This is the real Torzeria as it sits beyond the natural bowl of the High Field:

The Locations that Inspired Evershade

Rather than write a bit of backstory this week, I have decided to share with you some photos of the real locations that inspired "Evershade: Season of Crows." The locations are on private property, so I must take the photos at a distance from the stone river. Otherwise, I will get shot, go to jail, or get severely talked at. I don't want any of those things to happen this week...

The area near our home has inspired me for years. We live in the Ozarks about five miles from the nearest town. The countryside is dotted with rolling fields of fat cattle and little groves of trees that occasionally develop into extensive forests.

In my novel, there is one particular grove of trees that is simply called "the Little Grove." When Evershade's Watcher, Roan, banishes two mousemaids during the drought, they are forced to cross the stone river into the neighboring field. If they have any hope of survival, they must shelter in the Little Grove and ride out the drought the best they can.

This is the real Little Grove:

It is from here that one of the banished mousemaids, Aster, hatches a plan to exact her revenge on Evershade and its king. Her wicked scheme leads her across the field to the East, where the thin strip of trees harbors the Crow Council--and her destiny.

The trees in the distance are part of the Crow Kingdom:

"Marked"

Part 5

 

The young white squirrel clambered down the tree trunk to the forest floor where the blue jay he'd killed only moments before lay in a crumpled heap. Ripple and Twilight, his gray siblings, raced over to him when he reached the dead bird. They stared at the beautiful, lifeless blue jay.

 

"Why did you do that?" Ripple asked, clutching her throat.

 

Storm stared hard at his sister. "He tried to kill me."

 

"Well, he didn't do a very good job," Twilight observed, a hint of awe coating his words. "He's deader than a drowned rat."

 

Storm looked upon his enemy's corpse. The powdery blue feathers caught in the light that filtered through the canopy above. He spotted something dark pooling beneath the bird's skull. Blood. His enemy's blood.

 

The white squirrel crouched down and dipped his paw into the dark liquid.

 

"Storm, don't," Ripple warned.

 

He ignored her and lifted his paw to examine the sticky red lifeforce. It was bright against his pale coat. He wiped the blood across his hind leg and stared down at the three short lines smeared into his fur, smirking. It made him feel powerful to wear his enemy's blood.

 

Storm dipped his paw into the drying pool again and stained the opposite leg as his siblings watched with an equal mixture of horror and awe. He marked his forelegs and his chest, tipping the long hairs of his tail with the crimson lifeblood. At last, he smeared a circle around one eye and slashed a line through it from his forehead to his cheek.

 

He rose to his full height, standing before Ripple and Twilight. They looked back at him with jaws open.

 

Storm's transformation into an elite warrior had begun.