There's a wide eyed look to these sunlit reminiscences of a childhood up on the Hudson at Danskammer in the '90's that is disarming. For the author, Marion, and her younger brother Noel knew a country freedom, homegrown pleasures, and the perfect quality of their home enfolds these memories of the animals, buggy riding, long drawers, ice cutting, church, the Day Boats, and the unending landscape that was their front yard. A baby dies and a baby is born; Papa teaches in the city and designs stained glass windows at Danskammer; there are chickens, dogs, horses, cows, birds, snakes, a bat, turtle eggs and fruits of all kinds; there are adults -- but definitely in their place, whether parents, or older sisters, or other members of the household, and the sorrows of being ""bunched up"" in New York City for the winter are alarming. But Noel and Marion learn about roller skates, bicycle polo on 10th Street, lessons and eventually school -- living only for a return to Danskammer which was ""loved enough for immortality"". A primitive, childish, shrill delight comes through and Marion with her frail patience and Noel with his gentle hands contribute to a panel of American living in their own manner.