One of the most common questions any author receives is, How long did it take you to write your book? I never know quite what to say. I mean, for how long have I been thinking about the themes and ideas and questions that eventually took the form of this book? Though I usually end up saying “two or three years” I never feel quite right, as the real answer is probably something like “all my life.” I feel similarly when it comes to thanking all the people who have helped me write this book. As any author will tell you, writing a book isn’t something you do on your own. The following is my best attempt at remembering all those who have contributed to The Ground Beneath Us. If I have forgotten anyone here, I won’t forget the next time we meet.
First, my deepest thanks to those people I visited and interviewed, who shared their time and insight with me, and whose stories are found on these pages. Without your generosity this book would not exist.
Next, I thank those many people whose names do not appear but who welcomed my visit and who were absolutely instrumental in helping me gather my story. These include Lin Jensen in California, author of the books Deep Down Things and Pavement, with whom I spent a wonderful afternoon; Nienke Bakker of the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam, who one day walked me past the long lines and gave me a personal tour; Curt Meine in Baraboo, Wisconsin, for time spent at the Aldo Leopold Center; Virgil Foote, the Sioux spiritual leader who invited me to his sweat lodge; Henry Way of James Madison University, who welcomed my questions about geography early in this book’s creation; Scott Thayer at Legends Golf Club; and Fred Swanson, with whom I spent a day wandering among the owls and old growth at the H. J. Andrews Experimental Forest outside Corvallis, Oregon.
I would also like to thank the following people for taking time to talk with me about their work, to answer my questions, and to help guide my research and story: Ted Auch; Bonnie Harper-Lore; Kelsey Bankert; Jodi Johnson-Maynard at the University of Idaho; Kate Scow of the University of California, Davis; Fred Bahnson of Wake Forest University; Dennis Blanton of James Madison University; Mike Houck of the Urban Greenspaces Institute in Portland; Justin Long at the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board; Scott Loss of Oklahoma State University; Janet Davis of Charlottesville; Kathleen Brown at Penn State University; David A. Robinson in Wales; Kelly Ramirez in the Netherlands; Christina Siebe and Silke Cram in Mexico City.
For their gracious hosting of me during my research travels I would like to thank Zuly Zabala León and Katherine Guio Reyes of the Banco de la República in Colombia. My thanks to the wonderful people of the Hay Festivals, who brought me to Xalapa, Mexico, and Cartagena, Colombia. These trips opened up a new world for me, and I am forever grateful. Ulla Remmer brought me to Vienna for an incredible event at the Naturhistorisches Museum, where after my reading we (audience included) went up onto the museum’s rooftop to look down onto the city lights. Sabine Nikolay and her husband, Alexander, were incredible hosts on both my visits to Austria. In the Netherlands, Anna Christien Piebenga took me Wadlopen (“mud-walking”) in the Wadden Sea. And in Mexico, the amazing Myriam Vidriales was my host in both Xalapa and Mexico City. One night, in the hacienda outside Xalapa owned by the wonderful Marisa Moolick, Myriam organized a dinner and reading attended by several highly esteemed writers and editors. After we opened the windows to the sights and sounds of November darkness, I read from The End of Night in English and Myriam read the same passages from the Spanish-language translation. It was an experience I will never forget, and I thank Myriam for her work on my behalf and for her friendship during my visits to Mexico and Colombia.
Closer to home, I would like to thank Julie Pfeiffer of Hollins University for many good conversations while the book was in its first stages. I thank Laura Greenleaf for her friendship and ideas, and for her work on behalf of darkness in Virginia. In Harrisonburg, my thanks to friends including Rob Alexander and Chip Brown, Karina Kline-Gabel and Kevin Gabel, Laurie Kutchins and Kevin Reynolds, Erica Cavanaugh and John Schaldach. My thanks as well to Alicia Horst, my friend and companion on many a Virginia adventure.
At James Madison University, I thank my wonderful colleagues in the English department, with special thanks to Dabney Bankert, Annette Federico, and Inman Majors. To David Jeffrey, dean of the College of Liberal Arts, my thanks for his steady support of my work. And to Shanil Virani, director of the John C. Wells Planetarium and indefatigable defender of dark skies and all things Canadian.
I owe a serious debt of gratitude to my former student Katherine (Katie) McCombie, who with her research on my behalf went above and beyond what I could have imagined. What a pleasure it was to work with someone who so earnestly and thoughtfully took my all-too-often vague directions and returned pages of useful material.
My thanks to the Center for Energy, Environment, and Sustainability (CEES) at Wake Forest University for its support of my research travel, with a special thanks to its director, Miles Silman. I also want to share my gratitude for a Geospatial Technology Faculty Mini-Grant from James Madison University, which helped me learn more about new mapping technologies.
My ongoing thanks to Farley Chase of the Chase Literary Agency. There’s always a cold Summit waiting if you get back to Minnesota. To Chris Jerome, my copy editor, thanks for catching and correcting and polishing up. I hope to see you again next time. And to all the folks at Little, Brown—thank you so much for your work on my behalf. Thanks especially to Carrie Neill. And above all to John Parsley—I give thanks every day that I have the good fortune to work with such a friendly, thoughtful, and insightful editor.
In Reno, I am thankful for continued friendships with Matt and Katie Menante Anderson, Jim Frost and Vanessa Belz, Dan Montero and Renee Aldrich. And to my friend Sudeep Chandra from the University of Nevada, Reno—here’s to many more Indian buffets, beers on the patio, and conversations about changing the world.
To good friends near and far, including Scott Slovic, Eric Stottlemyer, Omaar Hena and Gretchen Stevens, Rajat Panwar, Cynthia Belmont, Erica Hannickel, Rachel Menke, Carly Johnson, Scott Dale and Andy Rusk, John and Laura Gibson, Kristin Tollefson, Andrew Comfort, Mike Macicak and Carmen Retzloff, Scott Dunn and Jill Richards, Robin Preble and Dan Hedlund, Heather McElhatton, Ingrid Erickson, Christina Robertson, and Emily Spiegleman.
I give thanks for continued conversation and adventure with Joshua Powell in Nashville, Randall Heath and Christine Keller in San Francisco, Andy and Tiffany Threatt Burelle in Albuquerque, and Marty Huenneke in Archlands. Special thanks to Douglas Haynes in Madison and to Thomas Becknell in St. Paul, both of whose friendship and advice have been invaluable in helping to shape this book. And to David Swirnoff in Minneapolis, a friend for thirty-five years and the first reader for most of these pages, my continued gratitude.
In the fall of 1998, I brought home an eight-week-old Brittany puppy and named her Luna. For fifteen years she shared my life, in New Mexico and Minnesota, Nevada and Wisconsin, North Carolina and Virginia. In August of 2013 we said goodbye. She was the best dog friend there ever could be, and our walks nearly every morning, evening, and night of her life probably brought me closer to writing a book about the ground than anything else I know. I miss her every day, and I am forever grateful for the time we shared.
It feels impossible to express in words the gratitude I feel for my parents, John and Judith Bogard. It’s like giving thanks for life itself. But with this book I have tried.
And finally, to Caroline Hilk. On that first night, downstairs at Burch, I pretty much knew. A few weeks later, on a six-hour tour of Auschwitz during our first day in Europe together, I knew even more. With every Saturday morning, every conversation about what to write next, every minute cycling around the city, every laugh of surprise, every other countless little thing, I know again. Here’s to walking this new ground together.