My mother’s very first book, Escape to the Mountain, is back in print, 30 years after the crash-and-burn of its original publisher, the once-venerable A.S. Barnes, led to the speedy remaindering of the first edition. It’s in the country-nature genre (think Gladys Taber and Noel Perrin), and describes our first six years in Plummer’s Hollow, when I was between the ages of five and ten. From the publisher’s blurb:
During their first year at the farm, Marcia and her family survived a blizzard, a flood, and a drought. Her book is a hymn of joy to sledding on moonlit nights in winter, to the arrival of the birds in spring, and to harvesting garden crops in the autumn. She relates the discovery of a family of wild puppies in the barn, a porcupine in the apple tree, a shrew in the laundry bucket, mudpuppies in the well, and opossums on the back porch.
See my mom’s post about it here.