This year, I've fallen completely head over heels in love with maple syrup.
Not the maple syrup itself - though that is quite nice. No, we've always loved that, and it's always found a way into our regular grocery budget, even at times when perhaps it shouldn't have. Though now I fully understand why it took up so much of said grocery budget. Somewhere between 30 to 40 gallons of sap to 1 gallon of syrup is about average for a yield. Let me repeat that. 40 gallons of sap = 1 gallon of syrup. Amazing, yes? It's precious as gold, this stuff.
{A head's up to anyone in Maine that this weekend is Maine Maple Sunday!}
But no, it isn't just the syrup I'm loving. It's the process of getting it that I am completely smitten with. It began in late February, on snowshoes, on the coldest of days as we began to mark out the maple trees and a path we wanted to use. Sometimes, I had a young one beside me or a pup (or a cat who acts like a pup), and sometimes I hauled a sled with a babe. But more often than not, it was a few moments of solitide in the end-of-winter whiteness. Those first few days of tapping, I remember bracing for the cold, but feeling excited at what it all meant. This first 'harvest' of the year. A precious gift from the trees. The promise of spring.
Slowly, in the weeks since that process began, things have changed out there. They've changed in everyday small, but overall drastic ways. I've so enjoyed the excuse - the reason - each and every day to head on out for a sap collecting walk to notice those changes. The snow is melting (and falling again), there are a few less layers worn, the snowshoes have been replaced by mud boots, and now...the sap is really flowing. The slow and infrequent drip-drop of the sap into the buckets has turned into a steady drip-drip-drip, and a whoosh as we empty them once and sometimes twice a day now. I know this little part of our land in a way I didn't before. And I'm beginning to notice the personalities of the trees we're tapping.
We started boiling a week ago. Our whole entire process is a simple and rather rudimentary one this very first (and busy) year. We've been talking about what we might do to step it up a bit next year, but until then, we're enjoying the simplicity of how we're doing it this season. And the fun of just diving into something - "prepared" for it or not. My guide through all of this, besides a few experienced friends and farmers, has been Backyard Sugarin' by Rink Mann. New England DIY at it's best, his book encouraged me to use what I have and improvise a lot. Keep it simple. I rather like that style anyway.
And so, we began this year with the 30 spiles (the metal taps) we found in the barn (I know...that barn!), and a few buckets I purchased. But mostly, we're using the plastic gallon milk jugs we've been asking family to save for us this winter. We have a 55 gallon food-grade safe drum for collecting and storing. And for boiling, a makeshift (from a helpful neighbor) woodstove with a hole cut in the top, and half a keg placed into that. Oh yes. DIY indeed.
The solitude, and meditative peace and quiet that comes with some of the work of syruping has been beautifully balanced by the joy and connection of sharing the experience.
There are the quiet walks in the woods with just one child, providing us with rare and precious alone time to talk...and learn...and share the silence.
There is my tree-savvy father, who is happy to lend a hand in getting us just a little bit more firewood for boiling, or to gently inform me that I have, in fact, tapped a Poplar among my maples. Oops.
And then there are more 'oops' uttered by helpful hands. Oh well...
There are those beside me with a sweet tooth who prefer to place their mouths directly upon the tree, where despite the clearness of the sap at that point in the process, she declares it 'the sweetest tree sugar ever'.
There are those on the path who insist upon coming along and walking - as challenging as it may be for his little legs in the "deep, deep snow," and then are very grateful that Mama thought to bring the sled along when it's time to crash.
And there are those - neighbors we are just getting to know, and friends we have loved for years - who come to join us in the all-day long festivity of watching a pot of sap boil...in the muddy world of melting snow and spring sunshine.
And back to the maple syrup itself? Why, that's nice too. It's funny how it - the end product - almost becomes beside the point in the process, as we celebrate the seasonal changes, the work out-of-doors, and the gathering with friends. But when the color starts to change and the steam rises and smells oh-so-sweet, we are reminded. We bring it inside at this point, and finish off the syrup making inside (where I can control the heat just a bit more). And then...
Oh, then at the very end, there is the ultimate of rewards. The tastiest of fresh sweetness. It's as precious as gold.
