Anyone who thinks making “the real deal,” genuine maple syrup, is a simple matter should just buy some “Aunt Jemima” at their local grocery store and call it good.

As Don Imus once said, “I was born at night, but not last night.”

All across the state, Maine Maple Sunday, this past weekend, had sugar shacks producing the good stuff, full-tilt boogie. The sap is running, albeit a bit slower than producers might like. The taps are out, or in, and the golden amber nectar let us all get a taste of a spring much awaited.

Justin Wood and a highly skilled band of merry helpers, attracted hundreds of visitors to “Sweet Wood’s Farm” in Newcastle, on a perfect spring day. At least it was perfect on Sunday.

Saturday, not so much. Father of Justin, Eric, who we met directing traffic, said the winds of Saturday were pretty rough. A little mud under foot, too. Fortunately, although we had to park six miles from the farm, the roads were dry and the walk was perfect.

We took the tour “out back” to see where the trees were and to get a closer look at all the tubing that transported sap to the sugar house. A charming young lady led the tour and answered questions. She was very well prepared and led us across the open pasture to the woods of Wood. The 200-acre farm has been in the Wood family for four generations. Eric said that he remembered the huge maples that line the front driveway, as saplings, freshly planted when he was a child.

There are 864 taps in trees on between 30 and 40 acres. The system of collection is precise and organized beyond belief. We could actually see the sap leaving the trees, from taps no deeper than 3/4 of an inch, being transported through tubing that connected to larger lines. Eventually Justin feels he would like to have between 2,000 and 3,000 taps.

The daily work of creating syrup happens in the sugar shack. A constant fire must be tented precisely for as long as sap in entering the system. Sap boiling temperatures are monitored continuously. Final product is drawn off with exact precision. The boiling center of the operation is a beautifully engineered piece of equipment that gleams with large trays and sparkling spigots.

I forgot to ask how much wood Wood would chuck to fuel the production — it looked like soft slab wood that was hand fed when a cell phone timer signaled.

I drank half the bottle of syrup on my way home. Needless to say, I would have been soundly scolded for my indulgent lack of restraint. But nobody was home.

The syrup will continue to be produced until sap stop, or significantly slows. Duh! My guess is within a month.

I will return.