I generally exist between a state of happiness and ignorance. One contributes to the other, and the other doesn’t ask many questions, so it makes a perfect marriage of emotions. However, my ignorance and stupidity have bestowed upon me a number of experiences that I care not repeat, one of which being our first year of maple syrup making.
To get started, I had bought some used galvanized spiles and buckets. With under a dozen maple trees scattered around the house, it wasn’t much to look at, but to me, it was heaven.
I worked so hard watching videos on the internet. I even carefully placed tape around the bit, to serve as an ad hoc depth gage. My best efforts seemed destined for ruin when I pulled in the driveway and found the buckets scattered around the yard. Some of the buckets tipped over, while others flew off during a storm. Good thing I bought a bunch.
I eventually found out that I got such a good deal because the galvanized buckets were detrimental to someone’s health. Ironically, the perils of galvanization on my health didn’t even begin to compare to the real trouble.
After collecting gallons of sap, it was time to boil. Unfortunately, it was cold — too cold. Without hesitation, I did what Pa would have done in Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods: I set up a propane burner inside my garage.
It may seem like a stretch, but Charles Ingalls was always an advocate for technology when it made the job easier. In my head, a propane burner in the garage seemed only appropriate. Besides, the wind was blowing so hard, there was no way I could keep a fire going outside. So, I lit the burner and began watching.
We didn’t have much sap, so I used our largest stock pot and began watching. I watched some more. Then a little while longer. By the time I realized that the watched pot wouldn’t boil, I was sickened and light-headed, as were my boys who were eagerly awaiting a taste of the nectar of the Gods.
We all felt queasy and took a nap. Being as responsible as I could be, we shut the burner down and let the sap sit in the cold until we felt better.
After a few hours, we felt better and tried again, but to no avail. We got sick, light-headed, nauseous and dizzy all over again.
We went inside, laid down and recovered shortly after.
This went on for quite some time until we began investigating the equipment. That’s when we found that our propane hose had a major leak in it. Our pot wasn’t boiling, because the hose leaked so much propane out that the burner didn’t burn hot enough.
After we thoroughly cleaned the burner and replaced the hose, the propane made relatively quick work of the remaining sap.
I think if Charles Ingalls was alive and able to see our little homestead, he would be thoroughly impressed. Maybe not by me, but at least by my indoor plumbing and septic system.
