Maple syrup magic

Grandma's cracklin' kitchen woodstove never smelled better than this. Pops and bubbles. Gurgles and glugs. Sweet smoky air dances from beneath the covers of the wood-fired boiler. Nose music. Sap music. Maple sap to maple syrup - sweet, hot, and rich.

Jim Morrison sits in an easy chair in the sugar house, talking syrup talk. "This is my favorite time of the year. You start working the trees when the snow is on the ground but winter is waning - not really winter anymore; not really spring either. But when it's done, buds are out, bluebirds are back, and spring has sprung.

"And, it's amazing how the running of the sap brings friends out of the woodwork to watch and to help. We make a little festival out of it sometimes, with hot dogs, cold drinks, and fresh hot maple syrup on ice cream. My wife, Debbie, and I call it a minor miracle. It's below freezing one night, above freezing the next day, and the sap just gushes out of the trees. I get into the woods and pop open some lids and have two-thirds-full buckets of pristine sap so clear it looks blue from the reflections in the sky. And before the day is over, we have great maple syrup."

Helpers participate by grabbing a bucket, dumping it, driving back and emptying the wagon into the boiler, helping stoke the stove, and taking part in the cooking process. Friends come up with their kids, and they all get put to work helping out. "Kids have a lot of fun with it, running all over the place and working hard," Debbie says. The Morrisons cooked syrup until 3 a.m. one night. When sap is running, you run with the sap.