It's that time!

When the sap runs

Spring is underneath that white layer, and rising to meet the cold air.

Growing up, when the sap was running, it meant a hike to the bush and the sugar shack.

Just up the road from town, and down a muddy lane skirted with crystalized snow, we'd approach with anticipation. It was an adventure checking the buckets on the trees to see how much had been collected, and to smell that faint sweetness of watery sap. If we were lucky, the wood stove would be blazing with fire, thick steam rolling around us, the big vat boiling with liquid thick enough to pour onto a tightly packed ball of snow. The taste was heavenly.

Continuing on past the buckets and maples in the bush, we'd make our way toward the creek, listening intently. We could almost gage how high the water would be based on the sound and we'd carefully watch it start to break away the ice on the rock bed and move swiftly south. On rare occasions we'd gather sticks and wood, make a fire on the rocks, and cook the hot dogs we'd packed for lunch.

My ancestors once owned 32 acres in Ontario, Canada, where this sugar shack still is. The land has changed ownership a few times and then, coincidently, a friend of a friend purchased it about 20 years ago and that sugar shack is looking glorious today. My friend Rob, and Bruce, still tap the trees and are making syrup.

I feel deeply connected to this place even though I'm far from it, and my brother and his family still go there on hikes. Seeing the pictures of this year's syrup brings back fond memories of family, and days gone by. It makes me think of our important connection to land, the beauty nature provides, and the goodness of what it can produce if we take care of it.

Wherever you are, here's hoping you get to taste that sweet syrup this spring!

Did you know it takes 80 gallons of sap to produce just over 2 gallons of syrup?

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‘Now & Then’ (image above)
My Dad (left) with his uncle, brother, youngest sister and mother (behind the buckets) in the early 40’s.
At far left (walking away) is my niece’s husband with their son, Dad’s youngest great-grandchild.

the sugar shack as it appears today

first drops in the bucket; Bruce & Rob’s syrup; the sugar shack in the 1930’s.
(current photos courtesy Rob Stevens)

Our human connection

...is sometimes difficult to ignore

She realized she couldn't meet her friend at the time they had planned. 

When the phone rang she was relieved to hear Deborah wondering if the date could be changed... to the same weekend she herself was going to propose.

They hadn't seen each other for a few years and Chicago seemed like a great place to get together to celebrate their friendship. She was traveling from Ontario, Deb was traveling from Missouri.

They met on the first weekend in June, 1994.

They were tired after exiting the Art Institute of Chicago, but nearby the Blues Festival was in full swing, where thousands of people crammed Grant Park. They grabbed a beer and she led Deb through the crowd then stopped and stood listening to the music and feeling the sunshine.  They stood in front of a group of people, friends to one another. A handsome man initiated conversation.

We met in Chicago on the first weekend in June, 1994.

Bill was in a serious relationship, I had just gotten out of one.  He lived in New Hampshire, I lived in Ontario.

Our lives collided. The connection was so strong there was no ignoring it.  I felt as though we had known each other our whole lives. And the discovery of details diminished uncertainty.  My birthday was the same as Bill's deceased father's.  Our mothers' birthdays were the same date, five years apart.  His great-grandparent's names were Bill and Emily.  Bill had quit smoking the day he flew to Chicago, and believe me when I say I would not have given him the time of day if he smoked.

We were married three years later.

And recently we celebrated our twenty-first wedding anniversary.  We're enjoying some incredible experiences with two children we love with all our hearts.  We are blessed, and I am so grateful.

Never underestimate the power of connection. To fellow human beings, to friends, to family, to lovers, to strangers.

Have you felt a powerful connection to someone that was difficult to ignore?  Celebrate it!

P.S. Artistic credit to my daughter, Lena, who made the paper doll cutouts when she was about nine, and now wishes she had made them more diverse.

Bill & I, 1995

L-R: a cheeky me June 4th, 1994 | contact info written June 5th | and my friend Deborah also June 4th

Forget Reading This Post

Be present and focus on what matters most instead

This Christmas season I hope you will be with people you care about, doing things you enjoy, and taking time out to celebrate what matters most.

Why dwell on what didn't get done, what could have been, or what's missing? Whether you're alone, with a few people, or a brood of family or friends, stop time and notice what's right in front of you, who is around you, and why you're part of it. 

Cherish relationships that give you strength and take in the earth's beauty and the creativity that we are surrounded by every day. Even the snow that sometimes impedes our travel has incredible beauty if we're open to seeing it. 

As this year comes to a close, my family and I wish you many joyful moments to capture, if not in photos, in your heart and mind.

And express gratitude.  It is powerful.

(P.S. The photo above is of my husband, Bill, our daughter, Lena and son, Nolan, about eleven years ago)