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THE WEIRS TIMES, Thursday, April 29, 2010

A SUGAR SEASON AT THE FARM

Reprinted From

The Granite Monthly

March- 1900

Not until late in Novem-

ber was it decided to build the new ”sap house,” and not too soon either, for the old one wasn’t much more than a rough shanty and the round arches which were built of stones, topped out with bricks, for the big iron kettles to set on, had to be patched up every little while and smoked at that. We had lumber on hand and went to work with a will, and it was a great day when “Charles Henry” came from Bridgewater to lay up the brick arch and build the chimney. In the old one there was only a stovepipe that ran out of a hole cut out on the back of the camp. Grandfather at first

wasn’t in favor of the new arch. He would walk round, look it over and say “he only hoped ‘t would work well;” but after the camp was finished, the roof shin-

March, and it looked like a thaw. We were now, as grandfather said, “ship shape,” and ready for a start. He was fond of old sea yarns, and next to Leavitt’s Almanac, which he considered the only one that had correct time on the sun’s rising and setting, he treasured an old book, “Captain Kidd.” We were his sugar crew. He was captain, father first mate, Dick and Ben,- that’s me- the crew. We took notice that the first mate generally had his say about how things should go. The sugaring off was

gled, two windows, and a side door put in, he was as pleased as any of us- though compared with a “sugar camp” of to-day it would be thought a primi- tive affair. There was no floor, only a few boards laid down for a walk, and the fitting up very simple- four or five wooden pegs for the skimmers and dip- pers, an old chair, and two three-legged stools; and

after the sap holders and draw tubs were in there wasn’t much room left. Our fingers were numb

with cold on the last day we worked, and we hadn’t finished any too soon, for the leaves on the big ma- ples, that had changed from green to red and yel- low and brown, lay on the ground frozen by crisp frosts, and there was a snow bank in the sky. “We sh’ll hav’ snow ’fore

mornin,” said grandfather as he came from the barn that night. Sure enough, in the morning the ground had its white mantle. Snow was steadily falling; winter had set in. As soon as it was good sledding we got up the wood for the “sap house.” It made a big hole in a wood pile to run the fire in a good sugar sea- son. The new arch was about fifteen feet long, and it would take a good many big sticks to keep the fire up and pans boiling. This winter we hauled to the camp about twelve cords that we hired chopped. It was now February. The snow was deep, and the prospects were that we should have a good sugar

year, for there were good and poor sugar crops, as in everything else. There were stormy days now, and we thought the spiles had better be looked over and see how many new ones would have to be made. We brought them from the shed chamber, and with the little bench and shave, into the back kitchen, where in the win- ter there was always a fire in the fireplace. We made the spiles from sumach, for there was only the pith to punch out then. As the sugar orchard was

on the north side of the hill we tapped out about the first of March, for the sap didn’t start as soon as though on the south side. Everything was ready; the hoops on the wooden buck- ets were tightened, the new sap pans scoured, and sap holders cleaned up. WE had none of the mod-

ern improvements that are used nowadays, but it isn’t so many years ago that neatness, skill with hard work were all that was thought necessary to turn out a first-class ar- ticle. There was warmth in the air in the first days of

done at the house. The sap, boiled clown to thin syrup and strained into pails, was carried to the house, poured into a big brass kettle, and put on the stove to boil down and be run into calves, or stirred off into dry sugar. Grand- mother did the sugaring off, for it took a good deal of skill to get it just right, and not have the batch scorch. Sometimes, as a great fa- vor, we were permitted to run the cakes in little tins, or help stir off, but only under her vigilant eye. This year we had a new

sugaring off pan. Grand- mother said at first that she wouldn’t use the new- fangled thing, but after we scoured and carried it in, she said we might hang it up-”perhaps she’d use it” and she did. We found out why. The big brass kettle had sprung a leak. It was thawing, the wind

in the west, and we were ready to tap out and not lose the first run. Grand- mother said “shall have to go first and Sa Jane to help out.” Mother wasn’t strong and took no part in sugar making; and for some remote part of the neighborhood, “ Sa Jane”

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