Having really loved Sarton's Journal of a Solitude, I was ready to love this memoir too. Alas, though. Some of her waxings on acquiring her dream home were sweet and enjoyable, indeed. However, I didn't connect with this book as well as Solitude. Perhaps it is because this is a polished memoir and not a somewhat confessional journal. Sarton definitely keeps readers at a bit more of a remove in Plant Dreaming Deep - to the book's detriment.