And there goes Sugar Bob, heading home for a long boil.
Sugar Bob makes maple syrup, gathering sap from stands he’s tapped all over the freakin’ place. You can hear his rig coming from a long way off, especially when he’s motoring through the mud with a load on. That sap is headed for a tank above the cabana, to be boiled down into syrup as only Sugar Bob can make it. I wouldn’t pour it on my pancakes, but Sugar Bob’s Finest Kind Smoked Maple Syrup is one of the greatest Secret Ingredients yet devised by Man.
Sugar makers don’t get to see each other much at times like this so Sugar Bob passed along his respects to the good folks at Bobo’s Mountain Sugar and I was happy to carry his message to the other side of the valley this afternoon.
First, our road didn’t get better overnight:
I’ve heard it said about Mud Season that every road has its year and this is evidently our road’s year. It has exploded, gone to hell, had the radish, and plain fallen apart. When the speedometer reads 45 and you’re going nowhere, something just ain’t right.
The road to Bobo’s blew out last year but is, so far, holding up rather well. After boiling late into the night, they were back at it today, accepting what the trees give them while hoping the next few days aren’t all that they get. Sap runs best when nights are below freezing and days are above but the forecast doesn’t give much hope for the former.
Taking what they get, and glad for it, the arch has been burning steadily in sugar houses across Vermont.
At Bobo’s this afternoon:
Winter may kick up a fuss in the next couple of weeks but it appears spring is on its way.