It’s Just a Stump

A few years back, we had a maple tree in our backyard cut down. There was a interesting section of the trunk that I decided to keep, and it became my stump. I moved it to the back of the yard, right in front of the neighbor’s fence.

I like my stump. I have enjoyed watching it age; seeing the color of the wood change; observing moss growing on the bark; watching the bark fall off, exposing the naked wood beneath. I even planted flowers in my stump one summer.

I have a plan. I bought two very colorful pots and plan to place them by the fence, with the stump in the middle. I’m envisioning pots overflowing with flowers and ivy and a spiky plant or two, and I’ll plant some flowers in my stump again.

This morning, I heard some banging noises in my backyard, and saw two men taking down the fence. This was not surprising to me, since our neighbors had warned us for many months that they are replacing their fence.

A couple hours later I looked in the backyard again. Then I did a double take. There was an empty space where my stump used to be.

I ran from window to window, trying to see if the workmen had just moved my stump to a different place, but I couldn’t see it anywhere.

Well, I thought to myself, not being one to want to make waves. It’s just an old stump. I should probably be grateful that they removed it for me.

But it’s MY stump! And I had plans for that stump!

I went out my back door to the back of my yard, and very nonchalantly asked one of the men what happened to my stump. He kind of motioned to his unseen truck, kind of insinuated that the owners had asked him to remove MY STUMP. Not many words were said by him, and I asked him to kindly replace MY STUMP.

The stump is now back in my yard, on my side of the fence, ready for my plan. After the threat of frost is over (we might have a frost tonight!) I’ll be able to plant my flowers and make my backyard beautiful. Featuring…MY STUMP!

I’m glad I decided to speak up and ask for it back. Yeah, it’s just a stump. I like my stump.

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Maple Sugaring

As winter wanes and spring begins, sap rises from the roots and travels to the treetops.

In March, when the daytime temperatures rise to 45° and night temperatures drop below freezing, the time is right for sugar maples to produce sweet sap.*
The liquid gold drips off the spout, slowly filling the pail.

If tapping is done too early, the tap holes may dry up; if done too late, the season may be over in a week and missed completely.
Sunshine from the South shines in the leafless forest, giving warmth to the trees even though the air is still chilly.

A 1/2 inch or 3/4 inch hole is bored waist high and about 2 inches deep into the tree. A spile (spout) made of hardwood is driven into the hole to fit snugly. A bucket is hung on the spile to collect the sap.

The girls catch the running sap with their hands and greedily lick their fingers.

Raw sap is 97% water, maple syrup is about 37% water. This excess water must be cooked off in a large kettle or evaporating device. The resulting liquid is sugar and mineral salts.

Sap has just a touch of sweetness but mostly tastes like water. This doesn’t stop Emmy and Lily from collecting more sap on their fingertips!

At this altitude the syrup must reach a temperature of 218°F to be called maple syrup. If maple sugar is desired, continue cooking until the boiling point of 234°F is reached.
Mmmm, maple syrup! Lily doesn’t even need the French toast stick. She simply drinks the sweet stuff.

It requires 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. If syrup is boiled between 218°F and 234°F you get “Jack Wax”, a chewy sweet, much like taffy.

*The text in this post is from this sign, posted at Maple Syrup Days. However, the captions are mine.

 Happy Spring!

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