Dear Curiosity Journal,

The snow cover ebbs from the landscape, signaling the syrup enthusiasts to examine the trees. Rufus and I recede to the sugar bush to begin the annual ritual of setting up the sap lines. I acknowledge the Mother Maples, scanning the multitude of trees, and absorbing their matriarchal energy. I wrap my arms around an ample trunk, pressing my face to her body, and breathing in her bark, emitting love and gratitude. I survey the fallen trees and clear the lines of debris while Rufus makes repairs and flushes the system. As I move through the woodland, my curiosity is drawn to the diverse patterns of renewal and decay; an unfurling emerald frond, decomposing fungi, lush moss, and rotting wood. Birth and death exist in perfect harmony on the forest floor. I peer into the cavern of a fallen hollow oak and consider the cycles which have spiraled through her. I could wander and wonder through these thickets all day, but we have much work to accomplish, so I repeatedly bring myself back to the task at hand. The promise of maple syrup is the ultimate motivator and we’ll have plenty of time to browse this boscage over the next month.