Soon Spring
If the piles of withered apples on the counter aren't convincing enough, the brace and bit right next to them should be.
Sugar-bush it old-school, yet again. This year I had nothing to complain about. Normally, we're half iced-over by the time the trees are all tapped, but this year was warm and balmy. It was a pure pleasure from start to finish.
Sugar-bush it old-school, yet again. This year I had nothing to complain about. Normally, we're half iced-over by the time the trees are all tapped, but this year was warm and balmy. It was a pure pleasure from start to finish.
In a few years, I'm going to make Zeke do all the hand drilling for me.
First tastes of sap. Savoring the unique combination of ice-cold sweetness and a metallic tang.
Aidan was napping last year, but this year, he couldn't get enough. He kept saying "Num, num, NUM!!!" and then grinning up at me.
He even kept sneaking underneath Susannah when it was her turn in order to catch any drops she might happen to miss.
Sugar-bush elves.
Gotcha!
2 comments :
Well, I've commented so much that the commenter gods have decided I must be a robot and have made me endure tedious tests to prove my humanity so I'll thumb up my nose at them and call it quits on the commenting. But it has been fun!
(And I have to do my apples this weekend. Or next week. Or maybe I'll just let the last of them rot into goo on my mudroom floor. That's more likely.)
Guess what I fed to the birds during the snowstorm last week? ;) I justified it by counting it as a humanitarian effort, as the compost was completely inaccessible to them.
Our last little bowl of two dozen apples still sits on the counter, growing mushy spots as I type.
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