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My fascination with maple syrup began when I was ten years old, when my parents moved us into the old farmhouse on the family farm. We had a woodstove for the very first time and there were two maple trees in front of the house that seemed perfect for tapping. Dad helped me and my brother put the taps in. We hung the pails diligently and every day after we hopped off the school bus, we checked for sap. We hounded our mother relentlessly until she let us use her best pot. We filled it with every drop of sap we'd collected and then we sat beside the woodstove and watched that proverbial pot boil.
When you're ten or eleven, making maple syrup can be a very disheartening experience. We watched all of our sap disappear, leaving only an inch or two of syrup in that pot. But mom used to be a Grade Three teacher, so the experience became a lesson in math, science, social science and geography, an opportunity to help us understand what was happening. A lot of her teachings came back to mind when I started work on this book.
The romance of maple syrup is unmistakable. Sugar shacks, wood fires, sleigh rides, traditional feasts and energetic folk music are woven into the fabric of a northeastern North American springtime.
Next year, I will be able to once again make my own maple syrup -- a few of the maple trees outside my country home are finally big enough to tap. I hope you enjoy this book and either try syrup making for yourself or visit a local sugar shack for a little hint of this springtime tradition!
Janet Eagleson