SAP SUGAR SYRUP

Boiling sap down.

The all new 2013 fully-functioning Sap Collector, A.K.A. a bucket.

Billy and Daisy.

Extreme weather calls for extreme fashion.

Our friendly tour guide Adolf. 

In the two and a half years we've lived in Canada, my family and I have deliberately exposed ourselves to a good few tourist experiences. Can you live so near Toronto and not go up the CN Tower? Can you  endure a Canadian winter and not go ice fishing on a frozen lake? Can you live in Canada and not see a Tim Horton's cup at least five times every single day of your life? The answer to those questions are perhaps subjective - I know several Canadians who have never visited the CN tower or gone ice fishing, but I don't think anyone here can go out in public and successfully avoid seeing a Tim Horton's cup of coffee somewhere at least once in a 24 hour time frame. I mean, there is a mile long line at the 'drive thru' every time I go by! Prove me wrong, Canadians, but I think living a life without Tim Horton's is impossible unless you live in the Yukon. Although they probably have one there too - answer me this, could Canada actually function without that coffee place? I'm serious! That's a very relevant question. Actually, maybe I don't really want to know the answer...

Anyway, I suppose the parentals thought that another Canadian adventure was in order, and so today we headed off to a maple syrup farm, via horse and trailer of course, to be told all about how tree sap is turned into that golden stuff we pour on pancakes. And actually, it was quite interesting. Freezing weather aside (winter, I thought I told you to go away), the farm was picturesque and we had a lovely tour guide Adolf, who moved here from Hanover, Germany in 1950 and has been leading tours for 12 years. We learned how the natives and settlers converted sap to sugar to syrup, ate pancakes, and my sister and I even had a wee go at the two-man saw and brought home a slice of tree to prove it. Something always does go wrong though (isn't that inevitable in family outings?) and today's tragedy was the burning of my coat on the hot stove - my sister Ruby was wearing it and got a little too close to the fire. She was leaving a trail of feathers behind her for the rest of the afternoon.

What I learned today: 

1. The way to tell an Amish man and a Mennonite man apart is this: the Amish grow beards but the Mennonites are clean shaven. 

2. Abercrombie coats and stoves don't mix.

"I won't be needing anything sugary for the next week," said I earlier, but I ate a slice of Victoria Sponge whilst writing this post.

Oh well.

Kitty x

The Perpetrator... 

... and the Victim.