Green Mountain Tales: Maple

The snow crunches as we walk to tap our trees. The sap had been filling the buckets all night. We couldn’t wait for the sweet sensation of maple syrup on our tongues. I felt the bitter cold biting away at my fingertips and toes. My face stung from the dry cold.

As we walked down the trail with full buckets, I fantasized about how nice it would be to step inside. My fantasizing soon came true as the warmth wrapped me in an embrace. With the smell of smoke and sugar in the air, we all knew what was cooking.

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