In going to Ground, Blackmarr mixes vignettes from her past with reflections on the present to describe the surprising generosity of strangers; life without hot water; her two dogs, one a "lush" and the other a cavebuilder; visits from a jack-o'-lantern-eyed alligator ("To tell the truth, people don't seem to have sympathy for the alligator"); pheasant-hunting with her third ex-husband; her days as a two-stepping cowgirl ("Like a fisherman wears lures on his cap, so does a cowgirl wear hatpins"); a scare by the "toilet-bowl water moccasin"; the significance of owning twenty-six pairs of shoes; a real-life wagon train; and the life and death of her spunky grandmother, MaRe. Always alert to unexpected associations, Blackmarr attends to moments, people, and the natural world with an acute focus that is unabashedly truthful.