For one brief moment of transition, the living is easy.
The snow has lost its legs before its time;
it is collapsing under our steps.
I am grieving the passing of this winter,
mourning it as I would the premature death of a weak child.
It was beautiful.
We managed to finish the wash house...
...that we began three years ago.
In the mild dark days,
A building is new as long as you are still heating it with its own offcuts.
Now our baths are roof-melt and rainwater.
No longer do we have to melt buckets of snow and strain out the spruce needles.
Winter is officially past.