The March woods are quiet places for the most part, the occasional hooting of owls, the drumming of woodpeckers off among the trees. There are long intense blue tree-shaped shadows falling across the trails and bisecting nearby areas of sparkling snow as we ramble through the deep snow. Those shadows are shortening and widening even as we watch, and they seem to be doing a kind of wild euphoric dance - there is a pas de deux in progress with the trees above taking on the roles of partner in this sylvan choreography.
Here and there are old cedar cabins like the one above, artifacts of an earlier time when maple sap was laboriously gathered by hand in galvanized tin pails, driven home through the snow by teams of placid draught horses and then boiled up into maple syrup and sugar in great cauldrons. There are still a number of those heavy old cast iron cauldrons lying about in the woods, and I am always searching for one of my own to take home to the Two Hundred Acre Wood.
This year, the sap lines are all in place and ready to go, fuel tanks are full, firewood is piled high for the syrup evaporators, and there is a kind of hush over everything as we wait for the great maples to begin gifting us with their fragrant sap and the maple syrup run to begin. I am dreaming of sugar birds (Saw Whet owls) singing in the woods, of waffles, crepes, pancakes and amber sweetness poured lovingly over plates piled high with such things. In the general stores of the highlands, the talk is about weather, and the air is one of great anticipation. "Soon, soon, soon," sing the Saw Whet neighbours. "Be patient, my friends, it won't be long now. . . ."
5 comments:
The Universe allowed me to trip over your Beautiful Blog yesterday, and I can't express how happy it makes me. I've taken the liberty of adding you to my links, hope that's cool! Peace.
You describe beautifully the woods I know, the shadows I treasure, the few sounds I hear, as well. Thank you for inviting me out with you. It's been awhile since my feet walked the woods.
I remember that anticipation, and the distinct feeling that the trees and their shadows were waking up, knowing things we could only guess at. There were groves near my childhood home in upstate NY, one of paper birch and another of hemlock, which felt powerfully present. I knew some spirit made these places feel as they did; a spirit that felt female to me in those two places. I loved to spend time in either one as a young adolescent, enjoying the quiet, the secret shared understanding, and the almost motherly watchfulness of the largest trees.
Your photos are always beautiful and seem to capture the moment.
Steve
By the way - I refered to your blog in a post of mine today. Your idea of evolving into a tree has stayed with me, and some serendipity added to it over the last week...
www.colorsweeettooth.blogspot.com
Hi Kerrdelune,
These are stunning photos. Thanks for posting them. I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on maples sap. When I was in high school, it was the 1970's, and back-to-the-earth activities were way in. My boyfriend and I made maple syrup one winter, a humbling task.
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