Probably Tomorrow

Tree tapping, Spring…

Probably tomorrow.

That’s what I’ve been telling my friend, Tommy, for about two weeks now. Probably tomorrow I’ll start tapping maple trees in commencement of the annual process, the yearly routine, of syrup production. Probably tomorrow. Coulda been, shoulda been today. Heck, even yesterday. But here I am, staring out the window at yet another squall promising four to five inches of nuisance. It’s not impossible to tap trees in a snow storm but it’s not necessarily fun either. So, probably tomorrow, Tommy. Or the next…

Syrup happens. It’s on the short list of guarantees. Sap flows. Old guys collect it, boil it, bottle it. And syrup happens. Till then I’ll stare on out this window and dream of the first day we have a hundred pounds of pork butt smoking on applewood and a pan full of amber goodness to dip it into.

Probably tomorrow…

I don’t imagine the maple trees will take much notice, but this spring marks fifty years since Don Staber opened this place. We’ll get the syrup bottled, the raised beds planted, the patio opened. We’ll load brisket into the smoker, welcome musicians and patrons alike to our outdoor stage. We’ll get the lawn mowed, relish in the season’s first sunburn and swear at the damn groundhogs. We’re planning a few cool commemorative occasions to mark fifty years too. More on that soon. Once we figure it all out. Probably tomorrow…