maple_syrup ovenbird In the middle of morning chaos, with school_lunches half made, and yesterday’s dishes cluttering the counter, I discover that I’m standing in a small pool of maple syrup. No one had maple syrup for breakfast. The maple syrup is still on the shelf in the fridge. Maybe I bumped it while getting the jam out? It’s a tiny, syrupy mystery. My daughter gets up from the table and complains that her feet feel sticky. It seems we’ve all been secretly tracking maple syrup across the floor. I have to clean up the mess, but for some reason I don’t feel annoyed. I find myself humming. There have been more moments like this recently, days that have unexpected_sweetness poured into them. I walk through the world and find the residue of countless_small_delights–treacly, golden, shining. 250522 what's it to you? who go blather from