The rich iron in the Earth’s rocks surfaced and caused the deep red hue of Morrison Road. The narrow and woodsy lane—a trail of sorts that Judy had called the back way or long way to her own private driveway—was stretched and windy. It rose into the thick oak and maple canopies, dipped into a chilly and dark hollow, rose again, and eventually plummeted like a dangerous rollercoaster ride. Blood red-colored dirt weaved through the woods. Iron dirt, as Judy had called it, coated the Chrysler’s tires. Red pebbles of random sizes clinked off the bumper and the car’s undercarriage as I carelessly steered the metal beast over its crimson eeriness.
To our right was the answer to Judy’s question. Morrison Road sloped into a murky hollow that was covered in thick skunk cabbage, blackberry tangles,
