February 26, 2021
We finally tapped our sugar maples this week, and to me, that's the beginning of Spring.
I have friends who find my enthusiasm for this time of year hard to humor. To them it's still winter- or “late winter” at best - but to me Spring starts the moment the sap begins to drip into the bucket- no sooner, no later. There may still be months of snow, frozen ground, and freezing nights but the sun is stronger- and more sure of itself. The hens are starting to lay again, the water troughs beginning to thaw, the skunk cabbage will soon reappear, and the birds are already singing their songs of love.
As the hay loft empties over the course of the winter, I am acutely aware of how much hay we've gone through and how much is left. Partly because we need to plan a few weeks in advance when it's time to order more, but also because I track the emptying of the loft as a marker of the arrival of spring. When the loft is full it holds enough hay to last us until the start of sugaring season, and some years it lasts well into lambing.
In the fall we pack our hay loft with as many bales as we can possibly squeeze in, and when I stack the very last bale – kicking it into place with the heel of my foot - I announce to the world (or to Anne and the dog if they are listening) “this is how long our winter will be,” and every day when we pull out the number of bales we need for the day, I think to myself, we are now 4 ( or 5 ) bales closer to spring.
I really do love Winter, but I must admit, I love Spring more, and even though I am pretty good at finding all of the happiness and all of the joy in whatever season we are in – there really is a whole lot more of both in Spring.