Weather, weather, quite contrary, and still the slate goes down

This morning's sidewalk that leads to the corner where I lean back and take pictures.

Every Saturday and Sunday morning I deliver Emily to the farm before 8:30 in the morning.

As we pass the town hall, I see a young man retrieving the blue ladder and setting it up against the scaffolding.

First floor access.

Then they're up there.

Tapping down slate shingles.

Counting back by the dates on my pictures, I see it's the start of the third week since the scaffolding went up. These men have been at it seven days a week excepting Thanksgiving and one bad snow storm day.

I've come to work to see them removing huge tarps from a section of roof, and realize their strategy. They cover tomorrow's section before they go home, if snow is in the forecast. They work right through the rain as if it weren't happening.

You can see the gutter straps hanging from the edge of the roof of the picture above. I understand copper gutters and downspouts will be the finishing touch. 

I do believe these young men will be down and gone by week's end, but don't hold me to it. I am seeing only that stretch above, a like size piece on the east side and the long slope over the front remaining.