by Ellen Miles
Then Charles heard it. Plink, plink, plink. Droplets of sap were falling out of the spout and into the bucket. He grinned up at Dad.
Dad smiled back. “That is the true sound of spring,” he said. He slid back the bucket’s lid to look inside. “Only an inch or two of sap in there,” he said. “Steve must have already emptied this one earlier this morning.”
“Is the sap sweet?” Charles asked. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink.
“Want to taste for yourself?” Dad reached into the bucket and scooped up a handful of sap for Charles to slurp.
The sap was cold. At first, Charles was disappointed because it tasted more like water than syrup, but then it hit his tongue with just a hint of sweetness. He smiled up at Dad. “Yum,” he said, putting his own hand in for another scoop.
“We can fill our water bottles later,” Dad said, scooping up a handful for himself. “I remember now, how we used to always drink the sap while we were working out here. Steve says it’s a spring tonic, really good for you.”
“That’s what Steve says, is it?” Charles whirled around to see who was talking. A tall, thin man with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail stood smiling at them, hands on hips.
“Steve!” said Dad. He stepped over to throw his arms around his friend. Steve gave him a big bear hug in return. “How’d you sneak up on us?”
“I’m like a cat,” Steve said, smiling. “Welcome! I thought you’d never make it, but here you are. And here’s Charles, all grown up.” He stuck out his hand and Charles shook it. “Last time I saw you, you were no bigger than a duckling.”
Charles laughed. He knew he’d been about as big as his younger brother, the Bean, was now, but it was still funny to be compared to a duckling.
“How’s Betsy? And Lizzie?” Steve asked.
Betsy was Charles’s mom, and Lizzie was his older sister.
“They’re great,” said Dad. “Betsy’s working on a big newspaper story about our town’s plan to become more energy efficient. And Lizzie—well, Lizzie’s always busy with something. Usually something to do with dogs. These days she’s trying to teach our puppy, Buddy, how to dance, I think.”
Steve threw back his head and guffawed. “Dancing dogs! What’s next? And are you still taking in all the little puppies of the world?”
Dad laughed. “Well, we are still fostering puppies, but mostly one at a time.”
“Buddy was one of our foster puppies,” Charles told Steve. Charles was usually shy with new grown-ups, but Steve was so friendly. “He’s the only one we kept forever.”
“He must be the best one then,” said Steve.
“He is!” Charles said, thinking of his sweet brown puppy with the heart-shaped white spot on his chest. It would be so much fun to have Buddy along, but Lizzie had refused to let Charles and Dad take him. Charles felt his heart swell the way it always did when he thought of Buddy. His fingers itched to pet Buddy’s soft, warm tummy and ruffle his silky ears.
Steve and Dad were still talking. “And the little one?” Steve asked. “Adam, right?”
“We still call him the Bean,” Dad said, “the way we did when he was just a baby and looked like a little lima bean when he was sleeping. He’s fine, too. Always getting into mischief.”
“Excellent,” Steve said, clapping Dad on the shoulder. “Glad to hear that the family is thriving. I must say it’s great to have you here, old friend. Are you two ready to haul some sap?” Steve pointed to a pair of big blue plastic buckets he’d set down in the snow. “The way it works is, we empty the smaller metal buckets into these bigger buckets. Then we haul the big buckets to an even bigger tank, just over the hill there, and dump them in.” He held up both arms in a muscleman pose. “It’s hard work, but it’ll make you strong.”
“How often do you have to do it?” Charles asked.
“Every day, as long as the sap is running,” said Steve. “And whether the sap runs or not depends on the weather. I hear we’ve got a great streak coming up right now, with the nights under freezing and the days sunny and warm. That’s what the trees love most.” He gave the big tree next to them an affectionate slap. “Don’t you, pal?” he asked.
Charles smiled. Steve was what Mom would call a “real character.” Who talked to trees? Someone who lived among them, Charles guessed. Why shouldn’t Steve make friends with his neighbors, even if they weren’t people?
Charles and Dad helped Steve empty a few buckets on their way to the sugarhouse, pouring the crystal-clear sap into the big blue buckets and then hanging the silver buckets back onto their taps. Charles spilled a little sap onto the snow while he was lifting a full bucket off its tap, but Steve just smiled. “It happens,” he said. “Hey, want to see something? Check out these animal tracks going across the snow.” He knelt down to point out a trail of little paw prints. “I’m thinking it’s probably a fox,” Steve said. “I’ve seen these tracks all around my cabin lately.”
“A fox?” Charles asked. “Really? They look like puppy tracks to me.”
Ellen Miles loves dogs, which is why she has a great time writing the Puppy Place books. And guess what? She loves cats, too! (In fact, her very first pet was a beautiful tortoiseshell cat named Jenny.) That’s why she came up with the Kitty Corner series. Ellen lives in Vermont and loves to be outdoors with her dog, Zipper, every day, walking, biking, skiing, or swimming, depending on the season. She also loves to read, cook, explore her beautiful state, play with dogs, and hang out with friends and family.
Visit Ellen at ellenmiles.net.
Don’t miss any of these other stories by Ellen Miles!
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Bandit
Baxter
Bear
Bella
Bentley
Bitsy
Bonita
Boomer
Bubbles and Boo
Buddy
Champ
Chewy and Chica
Cocoa
Cody
Cooper
Cuddles
Daisy
Edward
Flash
Gizmo
Goldie
Gus
Honey
Jack
Jake
Kodiak
Liberty
Lola
Louie
Lucky
Lucy
Maggie and Max
Mocha
Molly
Moose
Muttley
Nala
Noodle
Oscar
Patches
Princess
Pugsley
Rascal
Rocky
Roxy
Rusty
Scout
Shadow
Snowball
Spirit
Stella
Sugar, Gummi, and Lollipop
Sweetie
Teddy
Ziggy
Zipper
Copyright © 2020 by Ellen Miles
Cover art by Tim O’Brien
Original cover design by Steve Scott
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing 2020
e-ISBN 978-1-338-58981-8
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