There I was: cruising home from work, bopping along to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, enjoying one of the first warm days of the year (read: 50 degrees Fahrenheit; everyone in Los Angeles and the Southern Hemisphere, shut up and leave me alone.) The sun was shining, people were riding their bicycles, and…a father and son were getting maple syrup from a tree in their front yard?! WHAT? Where am I? Oh, that’s right. Vermont.