Yesterday I walked out the door and it was spring. The sun was shining, and I could feel the thick warmth from its rays. Spring means maple syrup season has come and gone. We (mostly Dad) make maple syrup from the broad leaf maple trees that dot the valley floor. Unlike the typical sugar maple, these trees give sap that makes a thinner syrup, though it still has the distinctive, natural maple taste.  When the weather yields cold frosty nights and warm days, Dad starts gathering taps, hoses, buckets, and a sled to begin tapping trees.  The fog hung low, clinging to the bare fingers of trees. The slushy scraping…