The next morning, Elias woke before dawn. Frost glittered on the grass. He ran to the sugar bush. From the spile in the old maple, a single drop fell. Then another. He cupped his hand under the flow—cold, clear, sweet.
“We could leave,” Elias said at breakfast.
That night, Elias searched online: Why do maple trees stop producing sap? Climate change. Unseasonable heat. Shifting freeze-thaw cycles. He read that some farmers were moving operations north, chasing the cold.
His father stared into his coffee. “Your great-grandmother’s tree can’t move.”
