The annual quest to the Marathon Maple Festival has been a spring tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. It's not spring until we've gone to this annual festival. Enduring the mild threat of spring showers, slogging through some mud, standing in line for an awfully long time just to spend 2 minutes in the sugar shack and get a tiny free sample of the year's syrup - this is spring. Not to mention the unique crafts, fair food, maple products for sale, used book sale, quilt show, and the great opportunity for people-watching. Glorious. 
So, now that he has made himself a permanent (for better or worse) part of the family, it was necessary to introduce Jim to this tradition. And, he actually seemed to enjoy it. His favorite part, he said, was leaning over the boilers in the sugar shack, letting the sweet smelling steam waft through his antennae. Super duper, he said. Made him think of home. With a wistful look in his crimson eyes, he patiently explained that there is a field not far from his family's dwelling on his home planet that has steam vents. Each vent's steam, he said, smells different. Some are pleasant, like the maple syrup steam in the sugar shack (and his personal favorite), as well as one that smells a little bit like apple pie, and some that are not so pleasant, with smells roughly equivalent rotten potatoes and dead animal. I'm glad there aren't any rotten potato vents in my back yard.
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