In this week’s column, we are introducing a new word to the English language. A freshly minted, and elegant word that will replace the generic and clumsy phrasing that has been used for centuries to describe our friends and neighbors who produce maple syrup every spring. And so without further ado, drum roll please. Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you for the very first time, the word “acerist”. An acerist is one who makes maple syrup. Acer (from the Latin) refers to the entire genus of trees known as maples. Therefore an acerist, is one who works with maple trees. The logophiles and lexicologists among us will note that our new word is similar to, but not to be confused with “apiarist”, which of course means a keeper of bees. The similarity of these words maybe in fact the sweetest thing about our new word; because both the apiarist and acerist are involved in extracting liquid sugar from a wild, and natural source.  I’ve plugged the word into a number of search engines, and looked in the dictionary and am pretty sure you’re reading the word for the very first time. Who knows what the future holds for our new born word, hopefully it will makes its way into the English language, or even appear as a six letter answer in the New York Times crossword someday. But for now we must be content with letting it debut here in print, but please feel free to start using it in conversations, and let all your friends and relatives who work a sugar bush, and produce maple syrup, that they have their own word now of which they can be very proud. Now its time to use our new word in a few sentences.  The 2012 maple syrup season is over now; and acerists all over north America have stacked their buckets and removed the taps from their maple trees. Others have rolled up miles of tubing, and latched the doors of their sugar shacks until next year when the freezing and thawing of late winter will make the sap flow again.  Our new word is growing up so quick, being used in a sentence for the first time and all; we probably should have taken a picture. And even though the word is only a few days old, acerists have been producing syrup for as long as there have been maple trees. The first acerists were native Americans who were cutting V shaped incisions in the sides of trees, collecting the sap and evaporating it in birch bark buckets.  The first European acerists in North America were boiling maple sap in iron pots almost as soon as they got off the boat, and using it as a substitute for more expensive sweeteners. By the middle of the nineteenth century flat evaporators were being patented and sold. Today, reverse osmosis machines, and vacuum pumps, are all part of the modern acerist’s tool kit.  While I understand the need to modernize production; I wish everyone could have the chance to experience making maple syrup using a wood fired evaporator, and collecting the sap from buckets. I think that’s the best way to gain an appreciation for just how valuable a commodity pure maple syrup really is.  I’m so glad I got my chance some twenty years ago, when I was invited to help out some local acerists when I was between construction jobs early one spring. It was labor intensive to be sure; all that wading through slushy snow with buckets of sloshing sap. But it was also wonderful work. I warmed my hands, and dried out my wet blue jeans in the heat of the evaporator, and ate eggs that had been hard boiled in the syrup. At the end of the day I was paid in fresh syrup.  Maple syrup season is such a comforting harbinger of spring. The freezing at night, and the thawing by day, is the vernal pulsing that gently milks the earth. In this sense the maple trees are like giant teats through which the soils goodness is converted from starch into sugar, extruded from the ground, and siphoned off by industrious Yankees who then turn it into a few hard earned dollars. And for the record, sugar shanties are not confectionary stores near the beach. They are micro-refineries that come to life for only a few weeks every year. Sometimes, when the sap is really boiling, and clouds of steam are billowing out of their louvered cupolas, the shanties look like old locomotives idling in the forest. Personally, I think the best tasting syrup is the dark colored and comes from the swampier areas. Now anyone who knows anything about syrup, knows that that light amber stuff is considered premium, and it comes from the trees that grow in the sandy loams. But some of the darker stuff I like so much, has an earthy flavor that reminds me of something I can’t quite remember.  I like maple syrup. I like where it comes from. I like how its made. And I like the acerists who make it.  Columnist Jeff Ell is a long-time visitor and camper in the area. He is sending his reminisces by way of his present home in Virginia. Jeff has been married to Deneen for 25 years, is the father to three grown daughters, and is pastor of a church in Virginia. He is also author of the book ‘Ruth Uncensored: The Story You Thought You Knew,’ which is available on Amazon.com.