It was lovely to listen to Scott Joplin “maple leaf rag“ while reading this. It’s all very evocative of childhood memories that I never had growing up in suburban New York. Yes, we would always eagerly await the arrival of that large blue rectangular tin gallon can of delicious Vermont maple syrup that would arrive each year from a farm adjacent to my grand parents outside West Brattleboro… Never quite understanding what kind of labor of love went into producing it. 40 to 1 ratio? Wow – 40 gallons of sap to bring that one beautiful gallon to our kitchen.
But the joy of tapping into a maple tree, like the joy of frolicking in the water by a beaver dam or making mud pies… These joys are forever lost to me yet happily brought back to life in the magnificent writings and recollections of the Celinas of Singing Bridge!
So many happy memories in this piece. As children we would "help" my grandfather empty the sap buckets into a large metal tank on wooden runners that was dragged through woods behind his bulldozer. Some of the finished product was always saved and boiled even further to be poured over fresh snow and hardened into maple candy. E III and Annie loved visiting the sugar house...one sunny spring day we brought along an empty wine bottle as a syrup container of last resort and allowed five year old Elisha to carry our precious cargo back down the hill. Scarcely able to contain his excitement, he ran most of the way...until he literally disappeared into an enormous mudhole on the North Bridgewater Road. The rest of the hike back was a trail of tears...but he never let go of that bottle.
It was lovely to listen to Scott Joplin “maple leaf rag“ while reading this. It’s all very evocative of childhood memories that I never had growing up in suburban New York. Yes, we would always eagerly await the arrival of that large blue rectangular tin gallon can of delicious Vermont maple syrup that would arrive each year from a farm adjacent to my grand parents outside West Brattleboro… Never quite understanding what kind of labor of love went into producing it. 40 to 1 ratio? Wow – 40 gallons of sap to bring that one beautiful gallon to our kitchen.
But the joy of tapping into a maple tree, like the joy of frolicking in the water by a beaver dam or making mud pies… These joys are forever lost to me yet happily brought back to life in the magnificent writings and recollections of the Celinas of Singing Bridge!
So many happy memories in this piece. As children we would "help" my grandfather empty the sap buckets into a large metal tank on wooden runners that was dragged through woods behind his bulldozer. Some of the finished product was always saved and boiled even further to be poured over fresh snow and hardened into maple candy. E III and Annie loved visiting the sugar house...one sunny spring day we brought along an empty wine bottle as a syrup container of last resort and allowed five year old Elisha to carry our precious cargo back down the hill. Scarcely able to contain his excitement, he ran most of the way...until he literally disappeared into an enormous mudhole on the North Bridgewater Road. The rest of the hike back was a trail of tears...but he never let go of that bottle.