This is a time of year that must drive maple syrup producers crazy with anticipation. Daylight’s share of the quotidian cycle is becoming noticeably longer, and the sun’s warmth is growing increasingly stronger. When Terry and I lived in Lakefield, Quebec, our retired-farmer neighbour, Percy Rodgers, almost trembled with excitement when March was on the horizon. Percy’s family had homesteaded Maple Lane Farm, and he still boiled sap as his father, and probably his grandfather, had before him. In his latter years, with his horses long gone, Percy tapped fewer and fewer trees. And he relied on neighbours with less mileage on the clock than him to collect the sap and schlep it down to the holding tank.
His sugarhouse was nestled amongst the old maples that lined the laneway leading to his farmhouse. Cool shade in the summer and easy tapping come sugar time. There he sat each spring by his wood-powered evaporator, in a sweet cloud of maple steam, feeding sticks to the fire and welcoming friends and neighbours with a hot toddy of par-boiled sap and a drop of the hard stuff. Even after moving to Dunvegan, we would motor to Lakefield during the sugaring off season and step back in time. No vacuum lines, no propane, no reverse osmosis and not a scrap of stainless steel in sight. Just a really old cast iron and tin evaporator and a whole lifetime of experience. And when the day’s boil was filtered and deemed ready to package, Percy would pour it into whatever empty, clear glass liquor bottles he had at hand. The result, as today’s foodies would say, was a rich, dark amber syrup that packed a solid maple punch with the hint of a maple smoke finish. Devine.
A white-hot Grimm
The pre-Dunvegan memories above were sparked by an email exchange with our old friend Ken McEwen. As I’ve mentioned before, Ken grew up on the 7th of Kenyon on the farm that Jack and Linda Fraser purchased in 1978. Ken sent me a quick comment on Groundhog Day, saying that, as the Ottawa Valley was overcast, we could be headed for an early start to the maple syrup season. “Though demanding, labour-intensive work,” he wrote, “we always looked upon it as a enjoyable time of the year.”
The winter sleigh trail from Skye, through Dunvegan and down to Maxville was still very much in use back in the 1930s and 40s. It passed right by the door of the McEwen family’s sugar camp and, from time to time, a sleigh would stop for a while so the occupants could warm themselves by the old Grimm evaporator, the doors of which often went past red to white hot. For these passers-by, the camp was a combination maple-flavoured steam bath and a place to catch up on the latest news. It was the social media platform of the day, but without the cancel culture chic and toxic comments section.
Today, syrup is liquid gold and, accordingly, is sold in smallish containers. A litre is a lot. The most common is a 500 ml can or bottle. However, when the McEwens tapped trees, the standard put-up was the one-gallon tin. It sold for $1.00, or around 15 loonies today. Ken’s family were not big producers, at least in today’s terms. They tapped around 300 trees, which I was told yielded about 35 to 40 gallons in a good season. They sold half and kept the balance for their larder… and random acts of kindness. Ken still remembers his brother making a sturdy wood box in which two gallons of syrup fit snugly. They shipped the box from the CNR station in Maxville to relatives living in Nevada.
Ken concluded his email with a quick comment on the vagaries of maple syrup production. It probably remains true to this day. “If the weather turns unseasonably warm, sap, like milk, will sour,” Ken wrote. “We never had this happen, but we were glad when temperature dropped and sap froze in buckets serving to keep sap cold in the puncheon.” I know. I had to look it up too. A “puncheon” is a cask capable of holding from 72 to 120 gallons.
No, it’s not Dunvegan
What an upside down world. If anyone had suggested 18 months ago that the congregants of Dunvegan’s Kenyon Presbyterian Church and Kirk Hill’s St. Columba Church would be worshipping via the Internet, they would have been told to get their head examined. Nevertheless, here we are in Month 11 of a global pandemic and interim moderator Rev. James Ferrier is leading virtual worship services on Google’s YouTube subsidiary. Reverend Ferrier wanted me to remind you that the 30-minute services can be accessed via the links on Facebook @kenyondunvegan and the Home page of kenyondunvegan.ca. If you’re wondering why the Dunvegan church looks so different in this week’s service, it’s because it was recorded in St. Columba Church, Kirk Hill. And it will continue to be recorded there for a few more Sundays. As for in-person worship, I still have no word on when Kenyon Presbyterian or St. Columba will open their doors to the public.
Smile-o-matic masks?
Our daughter Ursula sent us a quick email last Sunday. She lives in Toronto and on Saturday, she, her husband and our granddaughter headed to Huntsville for a dogsledding adventure. And they loved it. It gave them the fleeting sense of normalcy that comes from a road trip, plus fresh air, sunshine and minimal exposure to those outside their bubble… if we’re still using that term. (I notice the phrase “flattening the curve” has slipped beneath the waves.) But I digress. Attached to her email were a number of smartphone selfies documenting their sled rides.
The only ones not wearing a mask in the pictures were the sled dogs. And that’s what, in a way, made the photos so sad. I assume they wore smiles of joy beneath their face coverings. I know for a fact that young and old mushers alike were beaming from ear to ear when we featured dog sled rides at a few of our past Dunvegan Winter Carnivals. However, last Saturday, the only clue that this was the case with our daughter and her family were crinkles around the eyes.
This started me wondering if we couldn’t design a clip-on overlay to equip one’s mask with LED-based expressions. Yes, I know you can get smiley masks, etc. But the countenance on them is fixed. I’m talking about a tiny LED panel with a Bluetooth interface that would give you a choice between a friendly smile and the other end of the spectrum. Subtler expressions would be nice, but just a frown and one turned upside down would do as a start. Naturally, this “SmiLED” feature would be controlled with an app on your smartphone. Don’t forget though, if the PRC kidnaps this idea and the add-ons start popping up in Yuanarama (sorry, I mean Dollarama), you saw it here first.
Help for the homeless
Honourary Dunveganite Rosemary Chatterson is at it again. The woman is a powerhouse of good. This time she’s asked me to pass along an appeal for plastic milk bags. And by that I mean the outer bag that containers three 1.33 litre pouches. She recently encountered a woman who weaves the bags into sleeping mats for the homeless. It takes 70 bags to make one mat, so you can see why she needs all the help she can get sourcing her weaving supplies.
Rosemary tells me she would be pleased to pick up the bags from you, when you’ve collected a few. Just give her a call at 613-525-1336. Or, if you live in or near Maxville, there will be a milk bag collection box inside the main door of St. Michael and All Angels church. NOTE: please ensure the bags are clean and dry, with no milk residue.
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