A whiff of Spring

Today brought a dusting of snow and a high temperature about two-thirds of normal -- that's more like a lamb than I lion coming in it seems, but what do I know? We have, meteorologically speaking, changed seasons. The rest of the week will offer a taste of Spring; with daytime highs climbing to near or above fifty by week's end, our snow cover should shrink quickly. As we returned home from an errand today we caught, for the first time this year, a whiff of the freshening scent of snowmelt.

very late March -- skunk cabbage

Photo by J. Harrington

Sometime soon it will be time to head for the wetland just west of the property to see if the skunk cabbage has begun to sprout. Some years Spring develops in a pattern that dissuades us from making that short trek, then, later in the year, we're often regretful of having missed an opportunity to welcome one of the harbingers of the season of (re)awakening from a long winter's sleep.

Last week we never did get around to checking to see if maple sugaring season had begun. Perhaps that's an exploration for tomorrow. The temperatures forecast are prime so we imagine the buckets or plastic bags are hung on the trees but we've not yet confirmed that. Between Covid guidance and winter weather we've been spending way too much time at home in our home. We bet one of the dogs would really enjoy joining us for a ride. (We know better than to take our two dogs loose with one driver and no other humans in the Jeep.)

SAP TIME

The city man drives past and sees the sap pails on the trees,

He stops his car and steps outside and sniffs the fragrant breeze,

He sees the happy farmers with their Maple trees on tap.

He breathes a sigh of envy…but,

He’s never gathered sap.

 

He sees the sled and team come in…it looks like so much fun,

The farmer looks so healthy and he wishes he was one;

But in his logic there is apt to be one major gap,

For all his vim and eagerness,

He’s never gathered sap.

 

He wanders to the sap house with its cloud of fragrant steam.

He watches how the rising foam is quelled with drops of cream.

He sees the golden syrup pour and fill the thick nap

He thinks it’s simply super but…

He’s never gathered sap.

 

He’s never slogged for ten hours at a stretch through mud and slush.

He’s never emptied buckets till his mittens turned to mush.

He’s never slipped and fallen down and spilled it in his lap,

He thinks its wonderful because…

He’s never gathered sap.

 

He doesn’t go to bed to dream of maples row on row,

With miles and miles of buckets just about to over flow.

He thinks it’s quite romantic…he’s a very pleasant chap,

But the brutal fact my friends is that,

He’s never gathered sap.

• Albert Southwick.  Taken from the book “Maple Spouts Spiles Taps & Tools” – Hale Mattoon

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.