I’ll be blogging later today, but first, I wanted to reblog this beautiful post that KerryCan wrote at “Love Those Hands at Home” about her childhood memories of maple sugaring.
If my year were converted to hours, this, right now, would be maple o’clock.
It’s been years since I left the farm where my memories of maple were made but, when a hint of spring stirs the air, my thoughts always return to the gathering of sap from stately maples, the hours in the sugar house, with the fires fueling the evaporation, the sweet taste and smell of the air and the syrup itself.
One tradition was the making of a form of maple candy. It’s called maple taffy or, in Quebec, tire d’érable, but we called it “sugar on snow.” It was sweet and warm and sticky. It was the tangible, edible evidence of winter giving way to spring, of cold, dark days that starved the senses giving way to vibrancy and pure sweetness, of the sensory overload that spring brings.
My grandmother made sugar on snow in the…
View original post 310 more words