…but I can’t complain too much.
It’s what he does.
Some guys drink, gamble, screw around. Some flirt, turn into sports junkies, internet hounds, live round two through their kids. Workaholics.
Mine taps trees.
There are worse things.
Every spring, or every time the temperature stays freezing at night and ventures into the plus 32 during the day, the sap flows and he’s tapping sugar maples at camp about 3 hours north. Think outhouse, not weekend home.
Sometimes his friends come along, which according to Kid3, is a complete and utter farce.
Love that kid.
Whatever kid can go, goes; sometimes one or two, sometimes it’s a field trip. They’re not afraid to tell school they’ll be out a few days because the sap is flowing.
They tap the trees, sit by the fire and talk. There is no tv, internet, or heat. There’s intermittent cell service if you stand just right near the bend in the brook. They spend hours upon hours boiling the sap down and return windburn, smelly, muddy, dirty and happy.
With a pint or two of golden springtime.
It’s his thing. He’s creating a tradition that our kids will continue which is quite a beautiful thing.