March is the slowest month, they say.
You can begin to honestly look forward to summer.
Spring is around the corner.
Every year it is the simplest of things,
Maple sugar in March.
I wait for it expectantly.
A long walk in the woods.
The sap boiling,
Wood smoke swirling.
Maple cream, syrup, all from the trees
Making good on their promise of sweetness, year after year.