This weekend we journeyed about 30 minutes outside of town to a maple syrup festival. I can without a doubt claim I have never been to such an event, which is actually surprising. I’m sure my husband can attest, I’m a bit of a festival junkie. Luckily, the places we’ve lived in thrive on celebrating anything and everything so I fit right in. I began my love of festivals on a small scale when we were living in Crested Butte. Parades occurred almost every weekend but sometimes only included two cars with streamers. I loved the sense of celebration that filled the streets of that small town. When we lived in downtown Toronto I slowly realized this city celebrated everything as well, on a much grander scale. We have attended many different events all involving eating food and dodging crowds with a very large stroller. We have been to a polka festival where Mya sat on Travis’ shoulders and clapped to beautiful dancers. So when I found out a nearby town was celebrating it’s 50th maple syrup festival, we had to attend. Although the amount of people flocking to the festival far out numbered the capacity comfortably allotted for their streets, the event did not disappoint. Tables and tables filled with jugs of maple syrup, each a different company, and each providing samples for people walking by. We literally took shots of maple syrup as we walked down the street. One vendor chuckled as he handed me my glass and said, “the one day of the year we can drink maple syrup right?” And in my sugar haze I immediately thought, “why can’t I just drink maple syrup every day.” After returning home with what I can only describe as a sugar hangover, I have abandoned that thought. We watched carnival rides and bought silly treats and trinkets. Mya resolved her fear of a clown on stilts and got a balloon in the shape of a pink poodle. And Ellie had her first taste of maple syrup, which immediately made her laugh. We went to sleep with tired feet and sugary heads, a wonderful way to end a day.
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