In the lyrical prose style familiar to her readers, author J.F. Riordan records a natural world minutely observed. From an examination of life's fragility via a bathtub spider, to a tree-borne cluster of raccoons huddled together in a polar vortex, the essays capture the peculiar isolation, focus, and intensity of the pandemic lockdown, while marking the contrast of nature's ruthlessness with human suffering.

"Our life's landscape isn't geographical. It's human. When you are young, life is an endless horizon of years ahead. It's hard to realize how fast time goes, and how quickly the people we assume will always be here can suddenly be gone, changing the world forever. It's easy to allow the demands of every day to take up our energy and our hours. But in this, in every day, we have the essence of our lives. Our lives are only time, and, however far off the horizon seems, finite."

Deeply insightful and personal, by turns soulful and humorous, But Still They Sing belongs at the bedside of anyone in search of the comfort and companionship of a humane voice.