This is one of the most beautifully written yet most boring books I've ever read. It would be perfect for a rainy day with no plans. It's short, but it's a slow one. It'll take a few cups of tea.

A newly dating couple basically become hermits in the mountains of Ireland and let their house and dogs and life become kind of gross and never clean and love nature and go on walks and swim at night and notice weird things about bugs and cow dung and it's just a very strange book.

All that, but nothing actually happens. No plot. Poetry vibes? Idk.