Jandy's

February here has been brutal. What started out as a relatively mild winter turned nasty this past month. I'm sure we have 18-20" of snow piled up everywhere. We usually tap our maple trees on February 14 ... but this year it seemed pointless (and hopeless) to get out there to do it!

But finally a day came with sunny weather and Andy drove the tractor down the main paths into the woods so we didn't have to carry buckets as far. We still had to trudge back through the trees to tap the spiles and hang the buckets. And, lo and behold, they were dripping already! So the next day we collected about 50 gallons of water and began our first cooking of maple syrup. It was a short first run, but it is a beginning. We'll see what the next week brings in. Although it looks cold and dreary ahead ... the trees seem to be listening to something else that we can't hear.

That's one of the beauties of late winter and early spring. Following is a poem I wrote which seems to sum it up for me:

Late Winter Morning

I thought we were the sentient ones,
Emotional, and with free-will

 But on this late winter morning … 
The distant plink from a broken maple limb 
The chattering chickadee and titmouse

Darting through the tangle of bare branches…
The carolina wren shatters the air 
The scream of the bluejay. 
The crackle of the crow

 But it is more than the sounds 
That hold my attention 
That hold my breath.

 There is a sense 
A pulse 
That surrounds my space

 The swelling of buds, 
The shiver of a blade of grass 
The earth sighing
As the ice loosens its grip

 The air itself 
Shifting directions 
Blowing in spurts
Then quieting 
For the drumming of the Pileated

 I thought I was the one with plans and purpose 
Scattering feed to the chickens 
Pinning clothes to the line 
Digging winter carrots and parsnips for lunch

 But I feel like a boulder 
Dropped to the ground 
Heavy and awkward

 As life around me 
Swirls and leaps 
Dashes and creeps
Through the day, 
Through the seasons, 

Eons before
  And eons when I’ve gone