Growing up in the sticks of Vermont.
Some of my oldest and fondest memories are from my Grandparent's sugar house. Lots of work went into sugaring back then. Gramp had an old bulldozer that he used to tow a hand-made timber wagon through the sugar lot and down frozen county roads. In those days, it was all buckets. And, we children learned not to spill the sap when dumping it into the gathering tub. It was hard work, the snow was deep and the buckets were heavy and plentiful. Gramp fired an old evaporator that was several generations older than I was. He had spent the summer cutting and stacking four-foot slabs of wood to burn when the first warm spring days came calling. The cast iron doors would glow red from the heat of that fire and we couldn't seem to feed it fast enough. The steam was so thick that you couldn't see more than three feet in front of you. The smell was sweet, sticky and strong. And when most of the moisture had been boiled out of that day's gathered sap and the remnants dripped off the wooden spoon just slowly enough... that's when he knew he had syrup.
From the foot-hills and babbling brooks of Vermont, we bring you the finest maple syrup made. We are fifth generation sugarers that have a fondness for all things nature. From our family to yours, we put lots of love and careful attention into each jug. We hope you enjoy our work as much as we enjoy bringing it to you.