The Maple Tree That Teleported Me Back in Time
Copyright 2021 by Lori-Ann Willey
Willey's Dam Camp
Willey's Dam Camp
How many sneakers and boots we lost in the mud over the years were countless. To retrieve them meant getting muddier. If we could see the boot or sneaker, we were lucky. If we couldn't, we had to dig through the pudding-like mud and hope to feel it with our hands. How deep was anyone's guess, but how high the mud clung to our pants was a good indicator... if your pants didn't come off while trying to get unstuck, that is.
Oh, the memories that came flashing back this afternoon as I stood next to a maple tree in the yard. It is a warm day, sunny day, and that tree dripped sap faster than a cat can lick water from a waterspout. On the ground, sap puddled two feet wide in some places. The dry, wintered-over, curled leaves upon the ground acted like bowls and held sap by the teaspoons. How could this 54-year-old Grammy I not kneel, bend over, and slurp that sap like a thirsty 4-legged animal with no water in sight? When I did, I felt as if I stood outside with a dark rain cloud overhead that leaked giving a fair warning of downpour about to begin.
Today is beautiful, bright, and sunny. Not a cloud is seen as far as the eyes could see. Every part of this day says it is Spring! I stood and watched as sap ran down the bark, glistening in the sun, taking detours around bumps in the bark, around scabbed over injuries from a winter storm or heavy snow build up over the long winter months. Sometimes, the sap pocketed here and there. However, within seconds, it overflowed its temporary barrier (or a hill for you and me). After breaching the top, those drips were quick to play catch up with the runners before it via an already well-lubricated sap trail.
Sap, being 95-97% water, also has nutrients such as Calcium, Manganese, Potassium, and Zinc, etc. The sweetness comes from a natural sugar …nutrients for the tree itself as it prepares itself for new growth. The sugar water is mildly sweet. If you’ve never tasted it, take a quart jar, fill it with water and add a teaspoon or two of sugar, stir to dissolve, and sip.
As I stood watching the sap run and drip at speeds, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before, my mind drifted to my childhood years. Vividly, I recalled carrying gallon milk jugs through the snow as my father traipsed before me and my sisters. He carried the manual, hand-held tapping drill -an auger if you will. In his pockets, a few sap taps that danced around singing their own song with each step. My sisters and I, carried as many plastic gallon milk jugs as we could. Once at the largest maple tree on our property, we gathered around and waited for our jobs to begin.
My earliest memory of this had me watching my father with interest and intent. How deep he drilled into the tree, at what height, at what angle. I knew all too well, and so did he, that when that drill was no longer in use, I’d be finding myself a maple tree of my own. Four taps were inserted into that big old tree that day. The tree was a favorite for us girls, as we built a clubhouse atop the lowest branches that were about six feet from the ground. I spent so many hours there as a kid! It may as well have been my second home.
On a day like today, I’d climb into that tree, situate myself in such a way that I could hammer a nail into the limb above my head, remove it, and open my mouth waiting for the first drop of sap to splatter off my tongue. Sometimes, like today, I’d walk around and look for other maple trees with low-hanging limbs that may already be dripping …the darkened bark, the sap glistening in the sun as it worked its way down the tree as if sending a signal like a mirror dancing in the sun as gravity pulled it downward.
If I could reach a limb from the ground, I pulled it to my mouth and sucked on the damaged area from where the sap came. Sometimes, though, after playing around for hours on end, wading through deep snow that Mother Nature softened throughout the day, so the crusted snow was no longer frozen enough to support my weight, I’d become thirsty from heavy breathing as I walked around the area. With a pocketknife, I’d make a small slice through the bark and wait for the first drip to form. On the cooler days, the sap was slow to run, so I bounced back and forth between a few different limbs to wet my mouth. Granulated snow did the trick, but if I could, I always found a maple tree to climb first. On the warmer days, those drips were instant. On the cooler days, not so much.
Then, there were times when I’d pack snow in the shape of cones or bowls where the trees dripped the most. I’d leave them alone while I played in the area and then came back to them for a mouthful of sweet snow to snack on. If left overnight, the next morning, if I were able, I’d break the frozen mass into chunks to toss into my mouth and sucked on those until they melted.
Like a wild animal, there were times when I’d reach up and break off a half-inch twig and gnaw on it like a nervous kid would a pencil before an ill-studied-for test in school. I know because I was such a student at times. The inner green maple bark layer was always bitter but the sweet water that came shortly after made up for it all…the effort of getting there, too.
This afternoon, I went for a walk to soak in the heat, the sun, and navigate to a nearby maple tree mentioned earlier. As I watched the sap shower to the ground, every inch of me felt like tapping into a tree. I had even brought a pocketknife and three straws with me…just in case. Memories of my childhood ran through my head faster than all those drips put together. Even the sun hitting my face brought me back to laying on that bumpy branch with my mouth open catching those drips as a child, but I didn’t. I have no interest in tapping maple trees nowadays. We still have maple syrup we boiled down like five years ago, so other than my heartstrings plucking away at the nostalgia part of it all, I saw no sense in drilling into a perfectly healthy tree just for the memories that I already have. My memories were enough. I can smile as I type that, too.
Today, as I slowly walked around a maple tree, scrutinizing every inch of it, I found a spot where the water had evaporated and the sap dull, colored, and concentrated. I recognized that look quickly. Touching it with my finger confirmed what I already knew, that after all these years, I hadn’t forgotten what to look for – maple taffy. As I pulled my finger away, I know my face wore the biggest grin imaginable. Maple sap had dried to a firm upside-down cone shape. It was so thick, I had to scrape my finger across my teeth and then work it with my tongue to fully remove it from my finger. Instinctively, I drew my head to the tree and scraped my teeth across the bark to collect more of nature’s candy at the size of a small garden pea.
Eventually, I came full circle around that tree when a drip from above hit the bridge of my nose, I looked up. Not three feet above my head was a small 5/8" twig that was literally dripping wet. It didn't take me long to pull that branch to my mouth, my tongue already cupped with anticipation for that first semi-sweet watery drip. Slurped I did. Everything about that said I was 10 years old again. How fun!
