Bramblings: A time of hope

By BECKY NELSON
We just shut down the sugar house. It seems surreal that yet another maple season has come to a close. Production wasn’t what we were hoping for, so we won’t have much syrup to send to the wholesale market this year. The largest wholesale buyer in the northeast, Bascom Maple Farm, located in Acworth, is not buying at present, with the virus shutdown affecting every business, every producer, every person. This is devastating news for many who rely solely upon wholesale marketing of their syrup. We are fortunate, however, that we have built a solid retail business for our products and hopefully will not be as adversely affected. Whether or not folks have the money to buy syrup, a luxury product to many, remains to be seen as does pricing, whether upward or downward.

The end of the maple season is always bittersweet. The many long hours building up to the actual production of the sweet, sticky syrup always seems well worth the effort as the batches come off the evaporator and the jugs and barrels fill.

Syrup has a long history here at the farm with production from the sap of maples taking place through the centuries here on the same turf. Many of the maples were lost to the hurricane of 1938, which laid waste to vast swaths of trees here at the farm and all across New England.

When we began tapping in earnest again here at the farm some 40 years ago, a couple of survivors of the hurricane graced the ledges behind the farm and provided sap for many years. Most of these monster trees, a couple almost four feet through, have succumbed to disease and waste as all old trees eventually do, and the hulls of these giants are all that remain. New growth some 40 years ago around the areas that these old maples grew are now ready to tap. It amazes me how life continues, the old fade away and the new take their place, both at the farm and in humanity. It gives me great hope at this Easter time.

I read somewhere a theory that trees actually talk to one another through their root systems. This wouldn’t surprise me, as I think that all living things actually communicate with one another. These new “baby” maples may have communicated with their great-great-grandparents through the intricate network of roots where they store the sweet sugar that we so crave on our pancakes.

Like natives thanked the food they harvested, I would like to thank the maples for blessing us with a decent season. Thank you for letting us tap into your life source and nourish ourselves with your goodness. I hope that we can continue to take care of you and be good stewards of your growth and health to keep this blessing and annual event.

The maple flowers are about to pop. Quickly following the pussy willow blossoms, the beautiful red maple blossoms are a true harbinger of spring and come before the blossoms of other trees. These lovely blossoms, the lime green baby leaves , the full-fledged leaves that shade us in summer, the brilliant display of color in the fall, the majestic winter forms of the maples…I am a true fan.

Spending time in the sugar house with family is important to me. We have meaningful chats, make plans for the future and share laughs and fun as we work on boiling the sap. The smell of wood smoke, the sweet fragrance of maple in the steam and the smell of melting snow, spring rains and mud make the coming of springtime a promise and hope during the season. When we shut down the last fire and drain the syrup pans for the last time of the year, it is like flipping the pages of a book and turning to a new chapter. We finished the syrup production just last week and are already now planting, pruning and prepping for summer growth. Seedlings are already sprouting and the lawn looks like it needs to be mowed. Crocuses are fading and daffodils are blooming. It is a time of growth and hope. Much hope.

Becky Nelson is co-owner of Beaver Pond Farm in Newport, New Hampshire. [email protected].