Picking up where she left off in Going to Ground, Amy Blackmarr returns from her granddaddy's old pond-side fishing cabin in rural south Georgia - where "the scents of pine straw on damp mornings and peanuts drying in October fields were deep and warm and familiar" - to a northeast Kansas bluff, where she lives in the "house of steps" with her three dogs.

Part architectural wonder, part architectural disaster, the quirky house becomes the backdrop for the tapestry of scenes Blackmarr weaves from her recaptured past and her awkward present, plucking from everyday life the bright gems of wonder and meaning in an extraordinary world.

In the vibrant midwestern silence, where far-off voices play alarming tricks at night, Blackmarr gets lost in the woods, battles wasps but refuses to step on roaches, takes in another stray dog, frets over the "corruption" of her mother, confronts a blushing postman with her Victoria's Secret catalogue, collects bugs in a bowl, and faces her own perfectionism. Her discoveries teach her the deepest lessons about herself, her community, and her God.