While we’re waiting for winter to show up spring is sneaking in, inspiring the morning air with a damp softness that makes the birds sing.
I walk through the woods in half an inch of new snow, now drops and blobs sliding off branches in bright sunshine as warm as we haven’t felt since September. Into my neck of course, hound and woman both delirious with the rich fresh earthy watery woods and the dripping and beginnings of gushing even as we slide on wet ice invisible underfoot. Water and light doing their rainbow dance everywhere.
Rounding into the bog. Whoopsie!, first one foot through the ice, then the other. Cursing and laughing and streaming happiness. Deeply we inhale savoring the fresh promise of a boat ride through a grotto in a Romantic novel with a big R
Sugar snow I call this. Wait for an inch or two of snow while the west wind blows in late February, said John who taught me to tap trees. [I wrote about that in Got Sap?] Bingo. Is it a coincidence I’d planned to tap my trees (all six of them in one go no less) this afternoon?
Later, we stomp and slush around the yard carrying buckets and tops, drill, hammer, and the spiles at the heart of the operation. We are exhilarated along with the hound chasing bird shadows along the icy snow patches. I drill and sap drips before I have the bit out. A friend shows up to see how it’s going. It’s going, all right.
Later still we walk her home, skipping and slipping along puddles and mud, sailing leaf boats down the melt along the road.
It does not get a whole lot better than this, even if next week we’re back in the deep freeze. Yield so so far: 2 ½ cups. As usual, click an image to get the album- they make take a moment to load if you live around here