A lean, resonant Zolotow text expands, in Stevenson's free, expressive watercolor drawings, into a celebration of old-people-hood and the generation jump. "On our block there is a lady who lives alone. She works in her garden and gives us daffodils in the spring, zinnias in the summer,/chrysanthemums in the fall, and red holly berries when the snow falls." She waves to the children on their way to and from school; she makes candy apples at Halloween, cookies with sprinkles at Christmas. ("At Easter"--un-cutesily--"she makes little cakes with yellow frosting") Most happily: "She smiles at me and knows my name is Sally. She pats my dog and knows her name is Matilda." We're glad to know it too--for that saves the ending from mushiness or vapidity: "I wonder what she was like when she was a little girl. I wonder if some old lady she knew had a garden and cooked and smiled. . . .") The full-page landscape drawings of house and trees through the seasons--and, perhaps choicest, the delicate sketch of the lady's solitary walk (opposite the lines "She smiles at me. . .")--join a gentle, enduring warmth to a quiet, Imperishable loveliness.