SUGAR SNOW
by: Aynne McAvoy

Many people have heard me talk about "sugar snow" this time of year, mid to late February.  I say it with dreamy eyes and a wistful smile, as memories fly back to those days long ago.

Take my hand, and I'll take you on a journey to the Sugar House, in northern NYS, nearly 40 years ago.

I was perhaps about 13 when I first went to the sugarhouse. I had heard folks talk about it; always with that same look on their faces, although this place were truly something delightful.  I wanted to go too!
I got my chance that year.  If I recall, it had been quite warm, then a cold snap had come through.  I had to bundle up warm before climbing on the horse I would ride far back into the woods to the sugarhouse.

The trees had already been "tapped".  That is, the maple sap had begun to run in the trees, and all the maple trees on the slow ride back into the woods had kind of a plug type thing in them, connected to long clear tubes.  Some trees simply had silver pails hanging off the trees under the plugs.

The farther back into the woods we went, the hint of maple sugar aroma became stronger and stronger.  This delightful
smell beckoned me closer!  It was really cold, and I was glad I had dressed warmly.  The horses snorted, creating little clouds of breath as we walked.

Soon the sugarhouse was in view; a shack really.  We tied the horses up outside and opened the heavy wooden door.
Inside were two very large vats.  One vat was the one that the sap ran directly into.  After the sap had boiled in that for a while, it could be fed into the second vat, where it was boiled even more before filling the tin cans to hold the syrup in.

The vats took up a major part of the room.  There were stools here and there near the vats, with huge spoons to stir and small ones to taste.  I looked up and saw a loft, where a cot or two were located.  Someone had to be with the sap at all times, even to sleeping there in the shack.

The shack was very warm!  I soon took off my outer clothes and relaxed on the stool.  The fires under the vats were kept going by the woodpile outside, which had been cut and stacked much earlier in the fall.  The smell of the wood stove and the maple sap nearly drove me crazy; so delicious it was!

I had my first taste of the sap.  I tasted from the first vat, and the sap tasted a little on the watery side.  Good but not very strong.  Then I tasted from the second vat, and oh! Heaven!!  The rich dark maple syrup coated my tongue and throat as it went down, and I savored the sugary sweetness.
This indeed had to be heaven.

The room, although filled with lively friends and sweet woody smells, was also very warm, and my comfort level was at an all time high.  It was not long before I fell into a nap.

The long ride back to the farm on the horses (in later years to be replaced by snowmobiles) was a passage in reverie.  There was a little sadness, but tempered by the fact that next weekend I could come back and repeat the process all over again.

Now I am sure the sugarhouses of today are fancy and big and mechanical and not wondrous at all.  You probably drive right up to them in a 4-wheel drive.  Gone would be the magic.  Unless of course, if you could still find a private family who still taps the sugar the old way!  Such is what I wish for you, dear reader, to be able to find the magic of the sugarhouse!

Oh yes, the sugar snow?  It is a special kind of snow that falls and sticks this time of year.  It hangs on the trees in picture postcard beauty, coating each branch and twig with sparkling white glory.  Sugar snow turns the blah of winter into a wonderland, if only for a short time.  Sugar snow sparkles in the moonlight, like spun sugar.  When you see sugar snow, you know it is "sugarin' time".  I look out my window as I type and see this very snow, and drift into a memory of the sugarhouse once more.