The kids and I were equally delighted by the moment. They live to suck the sap straight from the tree, nursing at the spiles as if they were starving for the barest essence of the maple‚Äôs life affirming sugar. Carefully spacing our new taps a fair distance from older tap scars we drilled new holes with brace and bit, by hand. Sawyer would carefully tap a spile into its hole and wait. On the first hole he stuck his finger in and out flowed sap. Like Midas he made sure he pressed his finger deep into each spile thereafter. A dozen buckets was all we had time to put out in the cold wind and snow but hearing the tell tale tink‚Ä¶tink‚Ä¶tink in the metal buckets as we walked back up the drive warmed our hearts. We will get some more taps out in a few days.
I celebrate tappin‚Äô maples perhaps like some may celebrate Easter, when nature is discovered to be rising again from the death of winter. All is not lost, and though March is a long month here in New England, the maples let us know that this too shall pass and life is full of sweetness. You just got to work a little to find it and sometimes having someone with the right touch helps too.
Have a great day. Be well. Do good.