There’s no place I’d rather be than on this dusty road….
venturing out on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
The intense beauty of my home and its heritage run through my veins,
as I welcome the first signs of spring!
A row of erect trees stand in salute,
as the afternoon sun casts reaching shadows across the road.
Magnificent maples proudly wear their Sunday best, metal sap buckets,
A quaint and historic reminder of long ago,
back to the times of Early European settlers.
Beyond the trees the mountain tops reach to the clouds.
Closer to the eye, wispy branches mingle here and there while the afternoon sun fades.
Just soggy leaves and brown grass remains,
recovering from a cover of light winter snow.
A decrepit crumbling stonewall leads to a grand maple
and silver sap buckets, hanging with purpose catch my eye.
More evidence of spring…
A vision of nature’s simplicity, the running of the sap is ruled by the weather,
warm days and cool nights are ideal for the saps flow.
Further down the stretch of road plastic lines connect each maple like a dot to dot at school.
They too do the job of collecting, yet there is no beauty in it.
For the metal old fashioned buckets mean something more to me, spring! home! New England! A picture perfect postcard!
I have memories of a few times my family tapped our trees in the yard long ago.
I remember peeking in the buckets, expecting to hear a ping.
Not much was there, but a silent flow of a force.
This force is a true pure gift of nature for man to savor.
At last when the sap is collected, it’s heated to a boil.
Parties congregate in the sugar shacks, celebrating spring and the maple’s gifts.
Amber hues stream from the pitcher, saturating pancakes and sweet to taste.
Lick your lips.
A New England tradition.
Buy New England Maple Syrup today!