On a cloudy windy and rainy day, Pat began to say how she missed home. “What is so special at home?” asked another friend as we waited for the bus.
“Fine weather for Maple syrup,” she said.
“Do you have many trees?” I asked.
“It must be fun.”
“Plain hard work, trust me.”
“Does it taste like honey?” I asked.
“You have never tasted Maple syrup, have you?” she exclaimed in astonishment.
I turned shades of red. “I am taking her to taste some maple syrup,” she decided pushing me towards the eatery.
“Cold days are best for Maple syrup,” Pat explained as we walked, “In our farm, metal buckets hang on small drips from trees to collect the sap in winter. The sap looks like water, but tastes sweet.