Amidst the blaze of peak fall colors—crimson maples, golden birches, and amber oaks—the old sugar shack stood as a weathered relic. Its timbers, softened by decades of snowmelt and spring rains, had rotted beyond saving. With reluctant reverence, we began demolition, each creaking plank echoing memories of steamy syrup seasons past. Yet within the dismantling lay renewal: salvaged beams, sturdy stone foundation, and plans for a sturdier frame. As autumn’s palette deepened, so did our resolve—not to erase history, but to rebuild it stronger, ensuring the sweet scent of boiling sap would rise again from these woods next spring.
