A middle-aged narrator moves between present observation and vivid recollection of a childhood home called Yearsly, its garden, woods, and lead statues, to trace the people and events that shaped her life. Intimate portraits of Cousin Delia, Hugo, and other relatives and friends emerge through sensory detail and domestic scenes, revealing loyalties, small regrets, and the endurance of place. The narrative meditates on memory, ageing, the mutedness that can follow loss, and the quiet persistence of promises and attachments across seasons.