Around the south-west corner of the store is a great formation of icicles built by the gradual melting of the snow and ice from the large roof.
Of these there is one great icicle that forms every year. I suppose it should have a name, but we haven't received one yet. This icicle usually grows so that it nearly touches the little roof below it. Then as Spring approacheth, one may be so privileged as to hear a great CRASH as the thing breaks free and falls to the earth. I heard it once. I have not been the same since.