At the tip of a rugged peninsula, in a maritime landscape of green rice paddies and cliffs of tranquil beauty, far from Tokyo, a middle-aged woman, disenchanted and overwhelmed by the big city, embarks on a rediscovery of herself in peaceful solitude.

A humble and persistent observer, accompanied by her cat, she will learn the succession of the twenty-four seasons of the Japanese year over twelve months. Like a gardener who scrupulously respects his calendar, he weeds and plants his garden, allows himself to be purified by the wind, learns to listen to the creatures of the sea, makes wild strawberry jam, writes haikus while waiting for the summer fireflies, and ventures into the forest, attentive to invisible presences, observing the dance of the snow.

Weeks pass, and, to the rhythm of this dazzling narrative, two times contrast: that of its protagonist, who is moving toward maturity—human life, she concludes, is a shooting star—and that of nature, where resurrections follow one another and life never ceases to germinate. Her new connection with nature, therefore, is both a comfort and a refuge: in it, beauty always endures.

But in this village at the edge of the world, friendship and mutual aid among fellow villagers also take on their full value, like the bundles of bamboo placed outside her door by her neighbor, Mr. Kurata, during harvest time, or the warm visits to her friend Kayoko's honey-making workshop.

With evocative and exquisite prose, Mayumi offers us a moving novel about rebirth that resonates with unexpected discoveries on every page and overflows with a sensual love for life.