The Old Maple

Taps on the Maple in 2017

 We haven’t always made maple syrup, but it seems like something we have done forever. This big maple in the front yard has been telling us the sap is running with its quiet presence. Finally, one year Mama tapped it and there’s been home made syrup on the table ever since. The maple tree is there like an old friend to our family season by season. First sap and then bursting buds in the spring, summer time sitting, fall colors, and its winter skeleton we know is waiting just like we are for spring.

The Maple in the early 90s as it looked pulling
into the farm

The maple tree is been a huge part of our existence on the farm. In The Land Remembers, Ben tells about the dangers of having a maple up on the ridge. A tree like that could come down on the house, or drop a limb in on the kitchen in a storm. Mother adored the tree and Father was always worried about the tree and watches it light up in the lighting during summer storms. He even tried to cut it down once but Lyle and Junior wouldn’t help. The claimed they were too tired and wouldn’t work up enough energy to finish the job for quite some time or something like that. I think it is the same for us. Sometimes my Pa maybe feels the same way about our maple tree. Not that he would actually cut it down, but if you were an expert watermelon seed spitter, you could probably hit the tree from the kitchen door, and it does get blasted windy on the farm. But the tree is there, adding rings and girth each year. Both Mama and Pa adore our tree. The Logans gathered under their maple on the ridge after noontime meals and on summer nights, and so do we. 

That maple tree grew up with me. When I look at early pictures of the farm from when I was little, the tree looks so small! But maybe it has always seemed the same size to me because I kept growing right along with it. Year after year we hung a piñata from the branches each birthday. A birthday for me and for the tree.

Me and the Maple in the mid 90s

One summer we took down the silos, and I commandeered the ladders from that project to put my unskilled hands to work on a tree house. Mama as nervous and Pa helped, or rather just build me a better and safer platform in the tree to the sound of my constant babbling. There was two distinct differences between Pa’s tree fort and mine. First, it was safe. Second, Pa never put a nail in the tree. The platform was engineered in such a way that is was built around, nestled into, and supported by the tree. I don’t know if it was Pa’s philosophy to do no harm or wanting to avoid hitting a nails when sawing the tree when ever the time came, if it came. Either way, Pa pulled out all my sorry looking, bent over nails and split boards, and up went a platform that saw many years of love and use. And it was later removed with no damage to the tree. 

Around the time of the tree fort, I also put up a swing. The swing is still there. Looking out over the pasture in spring, summer, fall, and winter, it is a comfortable and peaceful place. I swung on it plenty, Mama enjoys a turn now and then, and my kids love the swing too. Over the years, the tree has gown around the ropes and is now girdling the branch. It seems I have undermined the do-no-harm philosophy after all.

We never have had AC. Not then and still not now. Even here in the house I now call home, there is no AC - but there is a maple tree to shade it. There’s something about old farmhouses that feel cooler than modern construction. Perhaps it is the old lathe and plaster walls, or maybe it is just thicker walls in general. Who knows!? I don’t care much for AC. It’s it too cold. Too much contrast between the great outdoors and the inside temperature. It’s like walking into a refrigerator. I never think that it is very easy on the body. Too much of a shock to the system; change like that. However, a maple tree sets us up for a cooler house, comfortable living, and a relaxing summer. Laying out in the yard under the tree and watching the leaves sway and clouds sway reminds us to slow down enjoy that glass of ice tea at your elbow, and smell the roses. It’s the best place to bask in the satisfaction of a good day’s work, or recharge after a lunch break. 

The Maple as it is now

Our maple isn’t a sugar maple. It doesn’t turn brilliant shades of yellow and orange in the fall. It always seems to go right from green to dull, dingy brown. It is kind of how I feel when the wind switches around and I had to walk to the bus bundled up tight. Winter being just around the corner. The great old tree reminds us every year of the seasons changing. The lawn chairs under the tree are tucked away and there will be no more basking under the tree until summer comes around again.

All winter the tree waits. Just like me. I’m sure if the old maple had a nose to press against the Jack-frosted glass windowpanes, it would. I think March is a maple’s favorite month. A hint of spring is in the air and we start thinking about summer. A maple’s blood gets moving and it starts thinking about summer too. The sap flows and buds begin to appear. We both know summer is on its way.