We all have visual cues that herald the coming of Spring. Perhaps you look for snowdrops and crocuses sprouting. I always thrill at the sight of the distinctive red breast of the first robin pulling at a worm or a grub from the ground near our peach trees. And then there are my honey bees venturing out of their hives in anticipation of dandelions blooming in April for first nectar flow of the season.
With Spring officially due in less than a month here at Little Farm, I also hear sounds that I associate with the change in seasons. One of those sounds is a steady plunk, plunk, drip, drip. And no, I don’t mean the sound of melting snow dripping off our farmhouse roof (though that is a lovely sound as well!). I mean the drip of maple sap into our syruping jugs.
Joe and I have been awaiting for those late winter days when the temperature rises above freezing during the day and falls below 32 at night. With such weather conditions, the maple trees seem to sense that spring is on the way, and so the sap begins to flow from their roots into the trunk and upwards to what will soon be their leafy canopy. Oh, it may be sporadic at first. We will still have cold spells and surely even a late season snow. However, the warmth of the late winter sun is slowly sending consistent signals to the trees that Spring is on the way.
This past week Joe and I collected some of our first sap of the season. The sun had been warm that day, and I stopped for a few minutes, just to listen. First there was only stillness and apparent silence. But then I heard it – plunk, plunk, drip, drip – the steady flow of maple sap, the trees offering a portion of their own life blood to Joe and me, so we could simmer it down to make pure maple syrup for you.
I smiled and whispered a quiet thank you to the trees for sharing their wealth and touched their nubbly bark. Then I went indoors to warm myself by the woodstove, anticipating that first sweet taste from our initial batch of syrup in 2024.