Growing up, spring was always welcome, but was a sign of dirty work to come.
Before the drifts could fully melt our father would come to us, tools in hand, and command us children put down our new things and follow him.
With childlike zeal we would dig into the snow and pull out the naked bodies. In case anyone came by, we would store them under some brush until the ground was soft enough for digging.
I never figured why father was so paranoid, if we had summer visitors we could just take care of them like the rest.
