The brightest part of long, dark winters in New England
Is the making of maple syrup
Just when the season turns
Rivers run clear in cold sunshine
Air fills with wetness like a sponge
The earth steams from within
And geysers spray from unseen depths, waking
I would trek knee-deep through the wet, glinting snow
Walker hound in tow
Toddler shuffling in white meringue mountains
Baby on my back
As a young mom in Connecticut
I was determined to show our kids how maples give us food
Our town had a collective for syrup enthusiasts
One bucket at a time
For the mule in the bunch, me
To cart across the pasture from the forest
To deliver crystal clear sap
To the open air sugar shack with cauldrons cooking on fires
40 gallons sap to make one gallon syrup
This food - this drink -
This luxury -
A fine example of the bounty that trees bestow on humans
Weeks later, we would receive our cut -
A few ounces of the amber nectar
We would gather freshly fallen snow in teacups
And drizzle with the precious syrup
Mouths full of icy tree sweetness
Life force renewed
Ready for Spring
First published in The Avocet Winter 2023-24 printed journal