It was too much for the roof over the hayloft.
Oh well, at least it saved us the job of taking it down, and it needed to be taken down so it can be repaired (when we have the cash). In the meantime a little tidying and making safe is required and that's a job for the spring.
The snow left more speedily than it arrived turning overnight into torrents of water that rushed across our concrete farmyard. On they way the thaw lifted a myriad of stones and mud, which it left behind on the yard, and it swept the bottoms of our gravelly streams clean. Grass and reeds were left flattened by the speed of the water; all stems pointing downhill towards the river which roared and growled at full capacity.
Then there were gales and hailstorms which ripped through our young Merryweather damson like a madman with an axe. The roof was whipped off the hen house and two of the occupants had a breezy night being blown about the garden (the third must have had a much tighter grip on the perch...)
On the bright side the polytunnel is intact and full of salad and we've had some bright crisp clear nights rich with stars. Sitting here now, at the computer, I look out of the window and sigh at the state of the garden but even through the gloom of dusk I can see the glimmer of a bud; a hellebore, tough as old boots and a sure sign of better things to come.