REAL Vermont Maple Cream COFFEE NATURAL EXTRACTS

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  Derived Only From Their Natural Sources And Ingredients.

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  Zero Added Sugar.

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  Zero Added Calories.

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  We Use Only The Highest Quality Essential Oil Extracts.

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  Natural Oil Based Extracts Versus Artificial/Chemical Extracts

He’d lift me up into that old blue truck, and as he was buckling me in, the door still open, I would lament over just how awful the exhaust smelled as he grinned in silence.

Then, as soon as he closed the door, those awful exhaust aromas would turn both familiar and wonderful as the delightful scent of his freshly brewed, still hot, coffee wafted up from his mug.

As soon as we drove out of the sight of my mother, peering from our front door waving goodbye, my grandpa would grin and say “you’re just roasting under all those layers, aren’t ya.”

And, as I’d nod fast and furiously, he’d lift my toboggan from my head while I simultaneously removed my mittens and unzipped my coat.

Driving through the countryside, my grandpa would slowly sip his coffee, and I’d watch as the steam still rose from the warm mug when he’d place it back into the cupholder.

Though I’m sure there were years when the scene wasn’t as pleasant, my memories exiting the truck to begin our trek on foot paint a single picture: the sun shining high in the sky, the leafless trees covering the countryside, my small hand in my grandfather’s large one, and fallen leaves crunching beneath our feet as we trekked.

I knew which trees belonged to my grandfather because his buckets had worn wooden handles. The other trees, and buckets, clearly belonged to my grandfather’s friend, Jerry.

I know this because our adventures weren’t complete without my grandfather exchanging hellos with the man as he, too, collected sap.

“Well, how are ya, Jerry?”

“Can’t complain, Chuck, can’t complain.”

“I see you’ve got your little helper.”

“Couldn’t do it without him.”

I always smiled at this part...because I knew I was the little helper to whom they were referring.

Our buckets full of sap, my grandfather would remove the spile...with my help of course.

He’d lift bucket after bucket into place in the back of his truck.

And, though they were too heavy for me to lift alone, my grandpa always said he couldn’t lift them without my help. So, my hand never left the thin but firm wire stemming from one side to the other of those shiny buckets.

As I grew older, of course I was able to do a lot more to help my grandpa, but these younger years were among my favorite times spent with him.

The buckets of sap we’d collected were only for the use of our family. “We’re not running a big production here,” my grandpa would say.

So, we’d return our collections to my grandma, who would work her magic in the kitchen, heating the sap to remove the water and create the sweet, warm, delicious syrup. I can still smell the aromas coming from that kitchen even today.

My grandpa would always brew another pot of coffee upon delivering the sap to grandma, a reward for his labor he’d say.

And then, as the afternoon stretched on, my grandpa would rest in his chair, sipping his bold, dark coffee with me by his side in front of the fireplace while the house slowly filled with scents of creamy, rich, sweet Vermont maple syrup thickening on the stovetop.

When I was just a boy, I’d enjoy the classically sweet syrup on homemade waffles and pancakes, but now, I prefer adding a spoonful to my own freshly brewed, piping hot coffee...thinking of my grandpa as I view the steam rising from my mug, and my grandmother with each creamy Vermont maple syrup sweetened sip.