Jimmy cut
and carried wood, and Dannie hauled sap. All the woods were stirred
by the smell of the curling smoke and the odor of the boiling sap,
fine as the fragrance of flowers. Bright-eyed deer mice peeped at
her from under old logs, the chickadees, nuthatches, and jays
started an investigating committee to learn if anything interesting
to them was occurring. One gayly-dressed little sapsucker hammered
a tree near by and scolded vigorously.
"Right you are!" said Mary. "It's a pity you're not big enough to
drive us from the woods, for into one kittle goes enough sap to
last you a lifetime."
The squirrels were sure it was an intrusion, and raced among the
branches overhead, barking loud defiance. At night the three rode
home on the sled, with the syrup jugs beside them, and Mary's apron
was filled with big green rolls of pungent woolly-dog moss.
Jimmy built the fires, Dannie fed the stock, and Mary cooked the
supper. When it was over, while the men warmed chilled feet and
fingers by the fire, Mary poured some syrup into a kettle, and just
as it "sugared off" she dipped streams of the amber sweetness into
cups of water. All of them ate it like big children, and oh, but it
was good! Two days more of the same work ended sugar making, but
for the next three days Dannie gathered the rapidly diminishing sap
for the vinegar barrel.
Then there were more hens ready to set, water must be poured hourly
into the ash hopper to start the flow of lye for soap making, and
the smoke house must be gotten ready to cure the hams and pickled
meats, so that they would keep during warm weather.
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