There's a weird nook in my childhood home. Built a century ago, it's a quirky wooden house shaped and placed in a way that leaves one outside corner without any direct sunlight. When I was a child I rarely went there. The yard was my kingdom but that one nook was forbidden, a strange territory belonging to shadows and daddy long legs. It was also winter's last stand as the snow fallen from our rooftop stayed there long after it was gone from everywhere else, waiting to be replaced by spring's first flowers.