Cabin Life – #69

So far, spring has been a big let down.  There were two robins in the yard Frozen Cherry Logthis morning, hopefully representing a soon-to-be change in the weather.  Between the upper field and lower field, I’d say about two-thirds of the area is still covered in snow.  In the woods, I can post-hole my legs up to the calf when not wearing snowshoes.  Luckily, the freeze and thaw effect has left a fairly heavy crust on top of the snow, making it a little easier to walk around.

The little path that Pico and I have made to the sugar maples is a safe walk, and I have no problem doing it in sneakers.  I might break through three or four times, but the falls through the crust into the four or five inches of snow don’t seem to matter now.  The end is in sight.

I pulled one of the taps the other day.  Initially I had tapped three trees, and so far the production has not been bad.  I now have about five gallons of sap sitting in a bucket, waiting to be boiled and condensed into maple syrup.  It’s not much, but it’s not too bad for a trial run either.  I figure I might be able to get half a pint or even a little more syrup out of this big white bucket full of sap.

The largest tree I tapped didn’t produce much to begin with and after another week of only giving me a few ounces of sap, I decided to pull the tap and jug and just let that tree get on to the business of being a tree.  The other two trees I tapped are starting to dwindle in their production, and I am planning on pulling them out this week as well.  I’m going out of town for a couple days and decided to leave the taps and jugs in place until I get back.  I’m not worried about overflow or anything like that, and with the reduced sap flow the last couple of days, I don’t think that will be a problem anyway.

The very first drop of sap that came out of the tap was both exciting and disappointing.  It was exciting because it meant spring and sweetness and another project to take on.  It was disappointing due to the fact that it seemed so insignificant.  Literally just a drop in the bucket.  I tasted the first drop as it rolled off the blue plastic spile and onto my tongue.  It was nothing more than sugar water, with an ever-so-slight taste of maple to it.  It’s amazing to think that at some point in history, someone looked at the clear liquid coming out of a maple stump and decided to taste it.  That such a huge tradition and addition to our culinary culture could come from some dirty tree water is wonderful.

But now, two weeks later, when I sealed up the lid on the almost full five gallon pail, it’s amazing that in such a short time so much potential has been unleashed.  There’s no doubt in my mind that if I had taken the time to tap the fifteen or so trees in the area that I could have had a considerable amount of syrup when all was said and done.  I actually regret not doing more this year, but as with all things, it is what it is supposed to be.

I can drive into the cabin without four wheel drive now, and have had the time to scout out some downed trees to drag out for next winter’s fire wood.  I have to fix the two metal roof panels that blew off the porch of the Upper Camp before any more damage occurs to the porch.  I have to watch out for hungry bears and raccoons.  There’s plenty to do out here, and making maple syrup is only one of many chores to be accomplished.

It is nice to think about the syrup as a chore.  I like being able to enjoy my chores, and sitting by a fire all day making syrup is definitely a chore I can take pleasure in.  I have no desire to climb up on a roof to fix the metal sheets.  I will take no pleasure in wondering if the sounds I hear while sitting in the outhouse are those of a bear wandering by.  But I will enjoy the spring, even though it is being rude with its tardiness.

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Cabin Life – #67

I love my dog Pico.  But there are times when he can be extremely The First Spileannoying.  Like right now, he’s licking my elbow and won’t stop.  I lifted my arm up off the table but he just jumped up on me to keep on licking.  I don’t know why he is doing this or what I could have possibly gotten on my elbow to make him want to lick it so bad.  He’s just a little weird sometimes.

I noticed another oddity out here this week.  I tapped a few maple trees so I could make a little sap this year.  Last year, I was all primed to do the work, but then maple season came and went in a week in February, and I was caught off guard and left with no syrup.

This year is a test run.  I bought some taps and used a few old milk jugs as buckets.  Trying to do it on the quick and cheap, I’m really only expecting a couple servings of syrup.  I don’t have the equipment or the time right now to handle a big production, but now that I know what I’m getting into, I can make a bunch of syrup next spring.

Last winter I found a cluster of nice maples not too far from the cabin, and never touched them.  But this year I picked up a bag of spiles at the local hardware store and the proper size drill bit. A friend and I took Pico, the taps, jugs, and drill out to the trees.  The sun was shining and it was perfect weather for sap to run.  As soon as the drill bit broke through the bark, a big, fat drop of sap coursed down the rough exterior of the tree.  The drill then died.

My cordless drill, which I’ve had since college, made a hole about half an inch deep and just stopped turning.  I jammed a tap into the hole to see how bad it was, and the tap stuck out a ridiculous amount.  No way would it be able to keep a full jug from falling to the ground.  I pulled the battery out of the drill and locked the bit in place.  I used the body of the drill as a handle and finished the hole using my power drill as a hand drill.  This is why I only placed three taps this year.

The next couple of days were cold and I didn’t think the sap would run that much.  From the yard I could see the jugs on the trees and knew that they hadn’t fallen or gotten blown off.  When I went and checked the jugs after two days, I noticed the irregularity that I was not expecting.  The smallest tree had given me the most sap, and the biggest tree had given me basically no sap.

Now, there could be many factors for this discrepancy independent of the size of the tree.  I just found it odd that this was the case.  I figured bigger tree equals more sap.  But maybe I did something wrong drilling the hole.  Maybe I put the tap in at too much of an angle.  Maybe the stupid tree just doesn’t produce that much sap.

After three days, I had a gallon of sap.  At this rate, I might be able to put my own syrup on one pancake.  But that’s not really the point this year.  I just want to try something I’ve never done before and see how it comes out.  That’s what this whole experience has been about too.  To try something I’ve never done before and see what happens.  And maybe that’s why Pico was licking my elbow earlier.  He just forgot that he’s done it before and wanted to see what he might find.

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