Winter this year, our 14-year-old said, has been like a drunk who comes to a party late and stays too long.
A snow blower, our 16-year-old groused as he shoveled out the driveway for only the second time this year, would make our lives not so difficult.
When the March sky turns azure blue and piles of blindingly white snow make the children grumpy, there’s one part of spring I want to go find: maple syrup.
Once in fourth grade, our teacher let us have a sugar-on-snow party, and I loved watching the warm syrup harden on the snow we’d gathered from the school playground. Years later, when Chris and I were still courting, my grandmother took us to a sugarhouse on a country road near Bennington, Vt...
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