Jilly Brandon

That’s what he called it when he was about five years old, with his charming little lisp and mispronouncing of the letter “L”.

It was endearing at the time, and it reaches down so deep in my Mother’s heart. I didn’t understand what he was speaking of at first when he looked up at the sky one evening, and in all the blackness and wonder if the night sky, he said,

” hey Mommy , it’s a fingernail moon”🌙

A few moments later recognition dawned upon me . My little son Logan, was a nervous nail biter like his Mum, and as he was chomping down on his nails he very astutely noticed that it reminded him of the crescent moon. Shapes and patterns.

This morning as I was wandering about, waiting for the coffee to brew, and dreaming of that first and best sip, feeding the two cats their breakfast, my eyes looked out to the east window and of the coming daylight.

There it was.. etched in the navy blue sky, and beneath, the pinks and oranges of a new day, “the fingernail moon” in all of her glory .

The sweet simplicity of a child drawing the connection between two shapes. And yet, it is always when I see it, my thoughts are of my son Logan, and I know they always will be. I miss you Logie.

There was ice again on Bass Lake. This was a welcome sight, as I learned yesterday that for the sap to run freely from the Sugar Maples, they required a frozen night of at least 0, degrees with a less frozen Spring Day of about 5 degrees.

Yesterday was a day to behold. There was a warm spring breeze, accompanied by a blue jean sky, occasional cotton white clouds, and the glowing welcome sunshine of yellow held the promise of tapping of trees for sap collection.

I had mentioned to Faye earlier this winter when I found out that she tapped the trees in March, that I would love to accompany her and learn more about the sap to maple syrup process.

Kindly she invited me to join her and her friend Valerie to tromp through the woods, and over newly awakened grass to drill holes in Maple trees. There we inserted the taps, and covered each with a lid and threaded with a spire to keep the lid in place, and the freshly flowing sap out of the rain, and potentially other woodland creatures.

She had borrowed the pickup from Ken, and the truck bed was laid out with needed supplies for our tapping afternoon.

Faye asked if I had rubber boots, and I proudly said, ” oh yes I do.”

There was mud, and prickly oak, and dried and deadened branches scattered about on the ground. It was slick in places, and damp and decaying leaves where we trod . But we were ready for the task at hand . It felt great to be outdoors feeling productive in the elements.

As soon as Faye drilled the hole in the tree, the sap began to run. She drilled at a slight upward angle to let the flow come forward easily. Then she showed me the scars on the trees from previous years of tapping, that had formed a scab, and healed itself over .

I wondered if that scar was “strong at the broken places” of its skin/bark ?

They didn’t drill in the same place as the scar. This reminded me of our human scars . They can heal and be left alone for years, but they never ever go away . The reminder of battles endured can be seen upon us . Unknowingly we protect our scars even though they have healed with stronger skin, they do not look like other skin . There has been a permanent change in appearance, We would not welcome opening up our scars to be wounded again in the same place and the trees seem to be in agreement .

Scars deserve our respect.

We carried a sled filled with tin sap buckets, lids and spires, a hammer and a drill , and axe, and spouts, and I forget the exact number of buckets that we placed , even though I was trying to keep count, but the sound of sap tap tap tapping could be heard when we three stood still . What a delightful little anthem .

I learned that it takes 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of maple syrup . Each sap bucket is 2 gallons. A new appreciation for the cost of the sweet sticky stuff set in .

My 94 year old friend, and roomie, for the time being Grace informed me that they used to place and collect these buckets when she was a girl, with a horse and buggy.

The hours spent boiling the sap in the sugar shack , but what a fine sweet taste comes from all that reduction of sap . It is a time consuming practice and needs countless hours of commitment from those who choose to undertake this maple syrup extravaganza . Dedicated to their time honored craft.

I asked what makes good flavor, and there seemed to be a variety of answers. The wonder of nature and what it produces to feed and nourish us humans . Who would have cared about pancakes and waffles if there was no maple syrup . My son Logan loved peanut butter on waffles, then maple syrup on top .

Let’s not forget maple butter, maple cookies, and melt in your mouth maple sugar. I found a maple scented candle to burn this winter too. My glands are dancing just thinking about it, and then.. maple bacon and sausages. The list is exhaustive .

When I searched who invented maple syrup this is what I found.

” Maple syrup was first made by the Indigenous peoples of Northeastern North America. The practice was adopted by European settlers, who gradually changed production methods. Technological improvements in the 1970’s further refined syrup processing.”

Also in Canada,

” Historical sources reveal that, sometime between 1536 and 1542, Jacques Cartier and his fellow explorers were intrigued by what they thought was a large walnut tree, and cut it down. It was, in fact, a sugar maple and its sap gushed out in great quantity .”

90% of maple syrup from Canada is produced in Quebec.

My question was ” does tapping the tree hurt it?”

The tapping does create a wound, but apparently it does not hurt the tree. The scar is covered over within the year .

These mighty maples not only give us shade, and beauty , especially their colors in the Autumn, they are furniture in the raw, and continue to provide us with our maple syrup .

“Let the skies sing for joy! Let the earth join in the chorus. Let oceans thunder and fields echo this ecstatic praise until the swaying tree of every forest joins in, lifting up their songs of joyous praise to him. ” Psalm 96: 11,12 ( the passion translation)

Maybe these maple trees sing best when their sap is flowing, and they know they are the curator of something succulent and sweet that brings joy to our taste buds . Looking down and smiling at us waiting patiently as we drill holes, and waiting expectantly for their sap to flow .

Faye reminded me of this verse,

” The trees of the Lord are full of sap” from Psalm 104:16(KJV)

Looking forward to the taste of the maple syrup .