Winter is here, notices Jean, beret pulled over his ears. He watches is fields. White as far as the eye can see. It snowed all night and the snow is holding. He doesn’t like this season; he much prefers the spring or summer when he can work outside. It’s hard but at least you can …
We are in 1940 It is five thirty in the morning. The night is still deep but the day is already beginning for Eugenie. No time to stretch. Hard this morning though; the vigil around the fire had dragged on but the wool is finally ready for the spinning wheel. Jean, her husband, has already gone …