“Eek!” slipped out through clenched teeth — unbidden yet totally expected, an automatic reflex to what I happened to be doing at the moment.
We are thick into sap season, and every year is different, depending on the weather. It is akin to farming in that respect.
This past winter, my husband diligently thought through easier, more effective and more productive ways to collect sap. Many times, I caught him deep in thought and when he spoke, it was about lines or taps or totes or pickle barrels. The dictionary should literally have my husband’s name next to the word “diligent.” I mean the guy was unstoppable in his figuring. It’s been a project.
The first year we collected sap, we tapped maple trees on our ridge exclusively using pails hung on trees, tapping about 60 trees. That was all it took to grab my husband — hook, line and sinker.
Understanding he could make better use of our woods, he was enthralled with the idea of collecting sap more efficiently. Using gravity as a natural pull, the sun warms the trees up on the south-facing hill, encouraging the sap to run like a faucet turned on full-bore.
The next year we added 10 pails, and he started pondering.
That offseason had him thinking, and then planning for running lines, so the third year, my husband strung 4,000 feet of 3/16-inch lines, which ran into two stationary totes stuck at the bottom of our ridge. To empty the totes, we simply used natural gravity running a large blue hose funneled into a tote on the trailer. Emptying the pails, (we’d kept a few up) we used a wand pump attached with a hose, running the sap into a 275-gallon tote, which we were hauling on our trailer.
I swear he’s thinking, “Go big or go home (relatively speaking).” This year in preparation for sap season, in addition to having strung another 2,000 feet of lines, my husband and a friend put up 300 taps into our maple trees, all running into four, 275-gallon totes. He did away with all pails, making lines do the work.
Along with now four totes, he found two 60-gallon pickle barrels on Marketplace as well as a 425-gallon tote to stick on the back of our truck bed, replacing the trailer of other years. After drilling holes for each line to run into the pickle barrels, they were placed strategically at two productive spots.
This sapping project grabbed him and in turn, I’m totally on board. It’s been different every year, with varying weather conditions and the equipment we use. It’s something we can do together and feel incredibly grateful that we are able to spend time in our treasured woods, enjoying fresh air and being productive together.
We’ve also discovered during our treks in the woods, a tap that’s been in an old maple for 90 years, factually certified by my husband’s uncle. In the 1930s, Grandpa Reminger was the last one to have tapped trees — no one else since my husband has started — so we know this treasure is at least 90 years old.
Back to my little startled cry (or two, who’s counting) — with frost still in the ground and getting yet more moisture, but with temps freezing at night and sunny warm above freezing during the day, the sap was running. Despite the awful condition of the line of travel, we needed to collect.
“We’ll have to hook the truck up to the tractor to pull it. What do you wanna drive?”
Eyebrows knit together in consternation, I swallowed hard and said, “Do I have a third choice?”
Opting to drive the truck, I was staring at two back tractor tires mere feet from our wood truck (converted at this time into a tote, sap-hauling truck), my foot simultaneously hoovering over the brake, the accelerator or both. He had chained the front of the truck to the back of the tractor, fashioning it in a sort of tripod so there would be less sway.
Getting started, it was good going. Presently, he hauled me up a small knoll when we then needed to go back down the same small knoll. “Eek!” I squeaked when my truck got too close to his back tractor tires. Keeping both white-knuckled hands on the wheel, I had it in low four-wheel drive and getting pulled along with no recourse other than to remain even-keeled rendering every ounce of my physical and emotional strength.
We stopped at our first tote. He saw my face. “You’re doing great.” Encouragement goes a long way.
We’ve had to collect this year in this same fashion a few times, with the hope that soon it won’t be quite so muddy. I’d rather leave the tractor in the shed.
We sell all our sap to Charlie Wagner in Tilleda, who’s been super accommodating with hints and helps throughout our project. As with farming, sapping season is dependent on the weather. With equipment options and my husband always thinking things through, we’ll sure to be productive.
(“Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.” Ecclesiastes 4:9)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
Farm Life From a Farm Wife: Every year different for collecting maple sap
