Bumpy Road

Every spring our syruping venture rattles down a bumpy road.

We have been driving this operation for 10 years now, and as in any old vehicle some of the clangouring is familiar, some of the ruts along the way we have come to expect.

This spring the whole works hit some new obstacles at full speed when sap was running hardest.

We all went flying.

I came to understand the sheer volume of water that the birch stand pumps up from the ground.

We almost lost it.

It took more hard work than I knew we were - or ever wanted to be - capable of.

On top of it there were several miracles (including you Graham Rudge).

Here is the crew that in the end managed a 2014 batch of Good Old Fashioned Yukon Birch Syrup.

There are many memories in my soul blog, images without photos, yet I don't imagine I can forget:

Lara lena, your first collecting day on that immense route in the falling snow,

Renee saving us with your butter tarts in times of deepest darkness,

coming home to Ed and the girls eating breakfast and doing 'everything right',

Sara naming all her trees, and her voice echoing through the stand,

Berwyn in rubber boots and rubber gloves touching two wires to fire up the whole batch plant,

Myself letting gravity pull me down the contours by full buckets on that two ton day,

All of us giving all we had,

unleashing our powers from within,

for better or for worse.

 

Here is a photo of passing the cup of first sap, before we knew how the spring would unfold.

We all have a sip before we drill. Sara played her flute.

Selwyn says to me that we are the human part of this forest. “Not every forest has a human part, but this one does.”

Our contract with the trees is that we will not waste what we tap from them.

I am so relieved we didn't break it.

Cranberry Cordial

It is the middle of a February cold snap.

 

 

So we brought in our harvest of Highbush Cranberries to thaw.

 

 

Selwyn said

"Look mom, I remember picking THAT berry!"

 

I can relate, memories roll into my mind:

the rattle of falling leaves,

conversations over the bushes with Agathe,

Juncos flocking in the underbrush,

filling a bucket by the river while waiting for Seung Min to arrive,

the smells of fall.

 

We boil them all in a big pot on the woodstove,

strain the pulp and cover it with Vodka to make a liquor.

The juice goes back in the pot with a cup of sugar for each four cups of berry juice.

We add cloves, nutmeg, allspice and cinnamon

and let it stew 'til all is blended.

 

We bottle it up as Cranberry Cordial, a merry red juice concentrate,

good hot or cold or with a shot of your favorite liquor.

 

 

 

Japan and Back

We've been 1/2 way around the world and back since I last blogged here.

 

We stayed high in the mountains in the middle of Japan with our dear friend Akane.

 

Here is Lilia on top of Teungu Ewa.

 

Akane lives in Uenomura, a small village with a population of 2000 that stretches out over 30 km along the Kana River. People live in little pockets where the valley widens. The mountains all around are steep and forested, filled with monkeys, deer, wild pig and bear. Akane has joined the local pack of hunters, and her small freezer was full of wild meat.

The mountain towns in Gunma Prefecture have steeply declining populations. Most people want to live in the cities; teachers and other workers have to be recruited from far away. The buildings are almost all former silk worm houses, the second story had been used to grow silken cacoons. In the 80s the last silk mill in the area closed, and the silk industry has moved to countries where labour is cheaper. The huge houses are left empty.

 

We met old people who have watched the mountain towns drain out and dry up. Stooped at the waist, they rake the leaves off of the streets and tend their gardens while the neighbourhoods turns to artifacts. Some were so kind to us, welcoming our interest in their lives and despite the language barrier they shared with us parts of their traditional culture. We are so grateful for their generosity.

 

We met some young folks, glowing exceptions to the trend of outward migration.

 

In Japanese they say you do a U-turn in life if you go leave your home and then return and build your life there.

 

Tsune made a U-turn, he and his wife Miho run a high class cafe, Yotacco (meaning naughty kids), in an old silk house. Out back they have a small farm where they grow everything on their menu, down to the soybeans for the tofu and and the wheat for the ramyan noodles.

They have a blog at: http://yotacco.exblog.jp/i21/ (Google can translate into English)

 

Here Berwyn and Selwyn help to plant the winter wheat while Tsune plows in the background.

 

If you move away from home and don't return you do an I-turn. (I think the interpretation of turn didn't quite come across right!)

 

Hokuto and Sachiko are a young couple who have moved from other parts of Japan to Uenomura because it's in the forest and is renowned for wooden crafts. Hokuto is a wood artisan and Sachiko is a calligrapher and together they run a business producing wooden chairs and bowls and utensils.

 

Here is coffee in Hokuto's mugs.

A father we met in Ueno has lived all his life there. He is a fourth generation mushroom farmer. His six year old daughter was the highlight of Selwyn's trip. His family taught us about farming and hunting and getting along in these mountains.

My imagination has been invigorated by the ways of living we experience there. I am so proud of the young people of Uenomura for sustaining the rural traditions and creating a sustainable community. Despite all our fauxpas, we felt a kindred spirit with our contemporaries in Japan and we will never forget.

Here are Selwyn and I in the first snow on the trail leading up to Tajikaro's Shrine. 400 year old Japanese Cedear tower over the trail that pilgrims have followed for thousands of years.

Pigs

 

Agathe has photographed these two strapping specimens, Bacon and Ham.

They have grown from sweet little piglets into handsome sows, who charge to the fence when we call to them “Here, Pig Pig Pig Pig Pig Pig!”

They're primary purpose is to root out a garden bed from the rocky, root-filled ridge top.

Of course beyond that we hope they will live up to their names.

And for the warm days of summer, we want them to enjoy their lives here with us.

Selwyn and Lillia both love to pass them greens through the fence.

 

I've come to look forward to the twice daily visits to their pen to feed and water them.

 

They like to be scratched where the mosquitoes have bitten their thick skin, and they are generally quite affectionate with us.

 

 

 

 

 

Agathe

This is Agathe, she has come from Paris to stay with us for the rest of the summer. She is able to watch our girls so that I can go to work on our property.

Her presence here and work with us has given me the freedom to really work steadily as I haven't much for the six years since Selwyn was born. Together Berwyn and I can do so much in a day. We have a long list of things to work away at before the winter comes and with Agathe's help we will cross a lot off of that list.

 

 

She has been making a testament of her adventure here. I am surprised at how able she is to capture tender moments without us even noticing that we are being photographed.

 

 

We are grateful to have such a kind and patient helper. And we are grateful for her beautiful photos.  

 

The Final Nail

I do love my life mostly out of doors.

That said, we humans are vulnerable in so many ways.

In winter we freeze and in the summer the mosquitoes torment us.

To protect ourselves we've built two fully enclosed shelters here at our place.

The second is a workshop which we started last fall.

We closed it up from the weather in October.

The 16' x 24' space became a cozy place to spend winter days,

just a crisp walk a from our mini family home to the other edge of the property.

 

Even unfinished, it's had a rich and varied life.

Besides a workshop it's been schoolhouse, guest house, camp kitchen and general purpose clubhouse.

 

This week the girls helped us painting the final trim and nailing up the siding.

Now she's finished and we can move on to the next project.

If all goes well, we will have built our wash house for the coming winter.

Hit the Ground Running

 

Each year, we expect the Birches' sap to run any time around Mid April. When it didn't, we were held here, as though our camp was an ice bound vessel - all together in this remote place with limited resources, no way out and lots of time.

Our general happiness depended on what we did while we waited.

 

Berwyn warms his feet in the secret warmsprings a days snowshoe from our house.

 

 

Naomi paints the birds in the bushes

 

 

Rennee shovels in wishful attire

 

Ed Sara and Selwyn share a tale

 

Lillia and I learn to play Banjo

 

 

Ed constructs Bee Hives

 

And not only did we play a lot of games, but we built the boards for at least two intricate games.

When she came, she wasn't really Spring at all, but Summer. The trees ran hard and fast, and the  season was only 15 days of collecting sap. Even so, we weren't out of camp until the 1^st of June.

Summer was immediately upon us and we've had to hit the ground running.

The syrup is all in bottles now, ready to move out. 

 

Thanks to a staunch crew for sticking it out and making us proud. Even the waiting was ok with this all star crew.