we’ve been using in Virginia,” Stevie said. “It’s all the rage.”
The Slatterys looked back at their daughter. Her clothes were loose-fiting, even baggy, but the truly unusual aspect of her was her coiffure. It had taken Stevie hours. Most of Dinah’s hair was piled on top of her head. On the right side, however, there was a hand-sized curl that swept across her right eye, obviously obscuring her vision, downward below the chin line, and then back up, fastened behind her ear. It was held in place with a largebow, and about half a can of hairspray that had been sprayed on top of a lot of mousse.
“I bet it is the rage,” Mr. Slattery said.
“At least I bet it makes all your parents in a rage,” Mrs. Slattery added.
“It makes me feel like I only have half a daughter,” Mr. Slattery said. “Just the left half. The rest of her is in some kind of cocoon. Oh, no, that’s not a cocoon. That’s my sweater! Isn’t it a little large for you?”
“I’m hungry,” Dinah said, trying to change the subject. It worked. Her mother was so pleased to know that her stomach was feeling better that all talk of her out-landish outfit stopped while dinner was served.
S TEVIE COULD SMELL the Sugar Hut before she could see it. She and the Slatterys drove over to Sugarbush and walked the short walk into the woods to the Sugar Hut.
“Oh, if only I could smell some pancakes, too!” Stevie declared. “I could smell to my heart’s content and never put on a pound!”
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” Dinah asked, smiling at Stevie’s reaction. “Once they start the actual evaporation process, the whole area smells of maple syrup and wood smoke. Sometimes I think it’s the most wonderful scent in the world.”
“For the first few hours,” her mother reminded her. “Then we all start thinking that the thick syrupy smellwill never end. It makes us thirsty, and we all crave salty foods to counterbalance all the sweetness in the air.”
A small gust of wind brought the full impact of the evaporation process to Stevie then. She still thought it was wonderful. She hurried to the Sugar Hut to see it all for herself. Dinah followed, carefully.
Betsy greeted them outside the Sugar Hut.
“Dinah? Is that you under there? What happened to your hair?”
“Stevie did it. Isn’t it cool?” she said quickly, allaying any impending insults.
Betsy glanced at Stevie and the look indicated she was promising herself never to let Stevie try a makeover on
her.
Stevie did the only thing she could under the circumstances. She beamed proudly.
“And, uh, how’s your
stomach
?” Betsy asked.
“A little better,” Dinah lied.
“Enough better to taste maple, I hope.”
“Definitely,” Dinah assured her. They proceeded into the Sugar Hut.
The main feature of the inside of the Sugar Hut was the large evaporation area, filled with pans of bubbling sap. Beneath the pans a wood fire burned brightly, stoked from time to time by some of Dinah’s riding classmates. Others stood at the edge of the tank, skimming off white bubbles as they formed on top of the syrup. All around, people from town, mostly parents of the students, stoodand chatted. Stevie found they had endless thoughts about comparisons of this year’s sap and syrup versus last year’s or the year before.
“I think the syrup is going to be a lighter color now, because the season came so early this year,” one man said.
“We tapped the trees the same time last year,” another said. “And that syrup was amber.”
“Not really. It was darker than amber,” somebody else said.
“Not compared to the year before that,” added another parent.
Stevie was mystified by it all. All that seemed to matter was that very soon the first batches of maple syrup would be coming out at the far end of the evaporation area.
“Almost ready!” Mr. Daviet announced. He stood poised with a bucket and a filter made of cotton flannel to remove any remaining impurities,
The Slatterys looked back at their daughter. Her clothes were loose-fiting, even baggy, but the truly unusual aspect of her was her coiffure. It had taken Stevie hours. Most of Dinah’s hair was piled on top of her head. On the right side, however, there was a hand-sized curl that swept across her right eye, obviously obscuring her vision, downward below the chin line, and then back up, fastened behind her ear. It was held in place with a largebow, and about half a can of hairspray that had been sprayed on top of a lot of mousse.
“I bet it is the rage,” Mr. Slattery said.
“At least I bet it makes all your parents in a rage,” Mrs. Slattery added.
“It makes me feel like I only have half a daughter,” Mr. Slattery said. “Just the left half. The rest of her is in some kind of cocoon. Oh, no, that’s not a cocoon. That’s my sweater! Isn’t it a little large for you?”
“I’m hungry,” Dinah said, trying to change the subject. It worked. Her mother was so pleased to know that her stomach was feeling better that all talk of her out-landish outfit stopped while dinner was served.
S TEVIE COULD SMELL the Sugar Hut before she could see it. She and the Slatterys drove over to Sugarbush and walked the short walk into the woods to the Sugar Hut.
“Oh, if only I could smell some pancakes, too!” Stevie declared. “I could smell to my heart’s content and never put on a pound!”
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” Dinah asked, smiling at Stevie’s reaction. “Once they start the actual evaporation process, the whole area smells of maple syrup and wood smoke. Sometimes I think it’s the most wonderful scent in the world.”
“For the first few hours,” her mother reminded her. “Then we all start thinking that the thick syrupy smellwill never end. It makes us thirsty, and we all crave salty foods to counterbalance all the sweetness in the air.”
A small gust of wind brought the full impact of the evaporation process to Stevie then. She still thought it was wonderful. She hurried to the Sugar Hut to see it all for herself. Dinah followed, carefully.
Betsy greeted them outside the Sugar Hut.
“Dinah? Is that you under there? What happened to your hair?”
“Stevie did it. Isn’t it cool?” she said quickly, allaying any impending insults.
Betsy glanced at Stevie and the look indicated she was promising herself never to let Stevie try a makeover on
her.
Stevie did the only thing she could under the circumstances. She beamed proudly.
“And, uh, how’s your
stomach
?” Betsy asked.
“A little better,” Dinah lied.
“Enough better to taste maple, I hope.”
“Definitely,” Dinah assured her. They proceeded into the Sugar Hut.
The main feature of the inside of the Sugar Hut was the large evaporation area, filled with pans of bubbling sap. Beneath the pans a wood fire burned brightly, stoked from time to time by some of Dinah’s riding classmates. Others stood at the edge of the tank, skimming off white bubbles as they formed on top of the syrup. All around, people from town, mostly parents of the students, stoodand chatted. Stevie found they had endless thoughts about comparisons of this year’s sap and syrup versus last year’s or the year before.
“I think the syrup is going to be a lighter color now, because the season came so early this year,” one man said.
“We tapped the trees the same time last year,” another said. “And that syrup was amber.”
“Not really. It was darker than amber,” somebody else said.
“Not compared to the year before that,” added another parent.
Stevie was mystified by it all. All that seemed to matter was that very soon the first batches of maple syrup would be coming out at the far end of the evaporation area.
“Almost ready!” Mr. Daviet announced. He stood poised with a bucket and a filter made of cotton flannel to remove any remaining impurities,