Stalking the Wild Asparagus



   At the beginning of June I started this series on Edible Wild Plants. We’ve ventured into swamps and forests, gardens and roadsides. We tasted wild teas, fruits, and garden weeds. We’ve taken a cautionary peek at mushrooms, and had a reminder that not all plants are edible.

   Our journey began at the beginning of June, with a review of two books: Lee Allen Peterson’s “Field guide to Edible Wild Plants”, and Euell Gibbons “Stalking the Wild Asparagus.” We’re going to end this year’s look at what’s good to eat in the wild with a closer look at those ‘wild asparagus’.

   Mid-autumn may seem to be an odd time to be talking about wild asparagus. After all, it will be next spring before it can be gathered for the table. Yet the key to knowing edible wild plants is getting to know where things grow. Often, the best time to see the most deciduous plants is long after the best time to pick them. Wild asparagus is one such plant.

   If you have cultivated asparagus in your garden, you be well aware of the tall, lacy plants as they appear in autumn. In my garden the mature asparagus plants stand more than a metre tall. The lacy branches are brilliant gold, and a few of them support dozens of small red berries that hold the seeds.

   Over the winter, birds will come to take these seeds near and far. That’s how “wild asparagus” gets planted. This seed dispersal has been going on for as long as people have been planting asparagus in their gardens. There are more than a few places to find these wild patches, and right now is the best time to look for them. They are easiest to see along roadsides, and most predominant along country roads. A few even grow along Highway 17 between Sudbury and North Bay!

   While you are out and about over the next few weeks, keep a look out for the tall, lacy asparagus plants. Generally they grow in dense clumps with a dozen or two stems. Make a note of where you see them, then go back next spring to bring in some of the first ‘edible wilds’ of the year.

   Like most edible wild plants, wild asparagus will have a much finer flavour than anything you can buy in the store. This is partly because of the joy you get from finding such treasures, and partly due to the minimal time between picking and dining.

   I hope you have enjoyed reading the last five months of dining in the wild, and I hope you took some time to gather a few of the gifts from Mother Nature. All too often in these modern days we lose track of what is important. Taking some time to forage from the wilds can bring back a joy of life that is so easily lost in the shuffle of busyness that overwhelms us.

   If you have comments or questions about this series, or if you just want to get in touch, you can write to me at vikimather@hotmail.com, or post a letter to me at RR 1,

Wahnapitae, ON P0M 3C0.

Received Oct. 29, 2007

Curly Dock

   Frost has come and gone, summer is over. What’s left in the garden? Some parsley, carrots and parsnips, and a little endive and arugula. These frost-hardy plants will continue to give some freshness to our dinner table for a few more weeks. Alongside of these delicious cultivated plants are some delicious wild greens. Some I’ve written about over the summer, like chickweed, daisy leaves, and wintercress. Today I have a recipe for Curly Dock.

   You may never have had occasion to learn the name of this common roadside weed, but you’ll probably recognize it right away. Also known as yellow dock, it has long, wide leaves. They are a bit curly along the edges, and if you dig up the roots, you’ll see the yellow.

   Most noticeable is the tall brown seed stalk. You can find this plant just about anywhere the ground has been disturbed but untended. I, of course find it in my garden because I like it. In fact I like it so much, that I’m thinking of collecting some seed this fall to sow in the garden! I’ll plant them shallowly in a row this fall, hoping for an early crop next spring.

   It is the young tender leaves that are so good to eat on the curly dock. And some of these can still be picked now. You’ll find them right beside the older plants that have already gone to seed.

   Snip the inner leaves from the centre of the rosette. Chop them, and put them in a pot with enough water to just barely cover. Bring it to a boil and let it cook for a few minutes. Then drain off the water, which might be slightly bitter. Serve with butter, and perhaps a little apple cider vinegar.

   A wonderful soup can be made with curly dock. It has similar characteristics to French sorrel, and can be used in place of the sorrel in any recipe. Here’s one I have adapted to use the wild weed.

   Chop a large onion and sauté in butter for at least 10 minutes. Meanwhile, peel and dice a large potato, and cook it along with two chopped green onions in 3 cups of chicken stock (or water). Cook and drain the two cups of dock leaves, as described above. Put everything together in a food processor, and puree. Reheat to almost boiling, adding salt and pepper to taste. Then stir in a half-cup of buttermilk (or use milk and a tablespoon of cider vinegar). This soup is good hot or cold.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Oct. 22, 2007

Winter Cress


   Winter cress is the very first edible wild weed I learned about. Forty years ago, my grandfather would take me for a walk in his cornfield in early April. These little green plants dotted the field where nothing else was growing. Grandpa called the plant ‘creesee’. It was many years later when Allan and I began to seriously study edible wild plants that I learned the more common name of winter cress.

   This is a member of the mustard family and freely self-seeds in my garden each spring. Over the course of the summer, the little seeds grow into a pretty rosette of dark green leaves. They have a glossy sheen to them, and a distinctive shape; a wide lobe at the end of the leaf and little paired lobes along the stem. (see photo)

   It is called “winter cress” because these hardy rosettes of leaves will survive under the snow, and provide the first delicious greens of spring. However, they are also wonderful to harvest right now.

   It is a common weed in farmer’s fields but most gardeners are able to weed it out of their small plots. I do my gardening around it. In fact this summer, the winter cress was happy to grow where my cucumber plants failed. Great clumps of winter cress spread a foot wide on the hills where I planted the cucumbers. Apparently, the soil was too poor for the cukes, but the winter cress loves it.

   The fresh green leaves can be collected any time you find them between now and next spring. Toss a handful of them into a salad, or collect a pot full to steam for a spinach-like green vegetable. Include them in a stir-fry, or add to soup.

   Leave the roots intact as you gather the leaves, and they will produce more leaves in the spring. Keep harvesting the leaves through the spring until the plants begin to produce a flower bud. Then collect the buds! These look like miniature broccoli, and are cooked in the same way.

   As I prepare the garden to tuck it in for winter, I’ll sometimes move a cress plant to a ‘better’ location. Their great root mass is easily transplanted. So if you don’t have any in your garden now, you might visit a local farmer and ask to glean the fields for this wonderful wild plant.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Oct. 15, 2007

All Kinds of Apples

   Apples, apples everywhere! We have just returned from our annual southern Ontario ‘harvest tour’. Each fall we spend a few days with friends south of Collingwood. Fortunately for us, they have a magnificent apple orchard that has never been sprayed with anything. This year the apples are abundant and wonderfully delicious! We filled the back of the truck with them. We’re set for apples right through the winter.

   I will confess though, that shortly after we arrived at the farm late Friday afternoon, the first apples I picked were not from the orchard. My first walk around the property was along the hedgerow where the wild things grow. Several wild apple trees grow there, so I tasted an apple from each of them.

   One of the trees was laden with small red apples. They were delicious! I filled my large basket with these wild fruits. That evening, I simmered the wild apples for half an hour in enough water to almost cover them. I stirred the pot just to make sure everything got cooked. Then I gently strained off the liquid, and made the first batch of Wild Apple Jam. (Had I not stirred the fruit, it would have been a clear jelly instead of apple jam.)

   I pushed the rest of the mush thorough a colander to remove the skins and seeds. While hot, I filled small jars and placed new lids. By simmering the jars in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes, there were sterilized. Now there are half a dozen jars of bright red wild apple-sauce in the pantry.

   For the next three days we walked around the farm and fields, along the Bruce trail, and of course in the orchard. We gathered wild grapes, mints, and other wild teas to bring home to dry for the winter. And we picked apples. Lots of apples.

   Here in the north apples generally don’t grow as well as they do down south. But there are a few that do well. Last month we found a wild apple tree growing at Collin’s Inlet, south of Killarney Park. And in our yard there is an apple tree that planted itself maybe 30 years ago. This year it gave us 15 apples!

   Most of the apples that grow in the north are crab apples. And while these may not be great to pack in your lunch each day, they do make wonderful preserves. You can use them to make jam and jelly and applesauce, just as I did with the wild apples. It is easy!

   First, buy some Pomona’s Universal Pectin (available at Durham Natural Foods on Montrose in Sudbury). Pick you crab apples and fill a large pot with them. Add enough water to almost cover the crab apples, and bring the pot to almost boiling. Let it simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, then carefully strain off the juice.

   I use 5 cups juice to 2 cups sugar, and 2 rounded teaspoons of Pomona’s pectin. Bring the juice to a boil, stir the pectin in with the sugar, and then add it all at once to the boiling juice. Keep stirring until it comes to a full boil again. Boil for a minute more, and then pour into sterile jars. Put the sealed jars into a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.

   These brilliant red jellies will keep indefinitely in the pantry. But once they are opened, keep the jelly in the fridge and try to use it within two weeks. Because of the low sugar content, you get more of the apple taste, but it is more perishability after opening.

Received Oct. 4, 2007

Cranberries

   It is a good year for cranberries! There are almost enough of them to make up for the sparsity of blueberries.

   Cranberries are easy to find after you have seen the first patch of them. They grow on low-lying vines at the edges of wet places. They are especially fond of boggy areas, but can also be found along lakeshores in protected coves.

   Cranberry vines are tiny. The threadlike stems support tiny, long, oval leaves. These have smooth edges that curl in a bit. All summer long the leaves are green, but as we reach into the cool days of October, they become as red as the cranberry fruits. The fruits are abundant this year, which makes it even easier to find the plants.

   Wild cranberries are the same size and colour as those you buy in the store. In fact, wild cranberries are so perfectly created, that there has been no need to generate hybrids for marketing. They are grown commercially in managed wetlands.

   With Thanksgiving being a bit early this year, our local wild cranberries have not yet fully ripened to their full maroonish-red colour. Still, if you can find a patch of wild cranberries, you can pick enough of the nearly ripe berries to make a nice sauce for your Thanksgiving dinner.

   A simple cranberry sauce is made with berries, a little water and some sugar. Simmer gently until the berries break, stir and chill.

   An interesting treat for Thanksgiving dinner, or any fancy meal is Cranberry Pie. This is also very simple. Fill a piecrust with fresh, raw cranberries. Add a cup of white sugar, a teaspoon of almond extract and a few dots of butter. Cover with the top crust, sprinkle a little sugar on top, and cut enough slits to allow abundant steam to escape.

   Bake at 325 F for 45 minutes or so. The cranberries will get bubbly, and the crust will turn a golden brown. To be truly decadent, serve this pie warm with a scoop of pure vanilla ice cream.

   Collecting cranberries from the wild is a great excuse to get out for an autumn hike. Take a trail that wanders by some wet areas, and keep a sharp eye out for that maroon colour of the leaves and berries. Once you find the first patch, your eyes will know what you are looking for, and some you’ll see many more.

ReceivedSep.25, 2007

Acorns

   Autumn is the time of harvest, not just for the fruits of the garden, but for the fruits of the forest as well. One of the most important forest foods for wildlife is the nuts and seeds from the trees. Squirrels are busy packing away pinecones and acorns. We’ve packed away a few acorns as well.

   This looks to be a good year for acorns. The red oaks of the north and the white oaks of the south have produced abundant quantities of acorns. The fall winds have blown some from the trees, making it easy for us to gather a basket full of them.

   Have you ever tasted a raw acorn? If you have, chances are you spat it right back out again. Acorns contain great quantities of tannin that has to be removed before you can swallow this nutritious nut.

   Gathering acorns for people to eat is not as easy as gathering blueberries or cranberries (next week’s article!). Sure, it is easy to fill a basket with the pretty green and brown-capped acorns. But the work begins when you get them home.

   First peel the outer shell off the acorns. Then put them into a pot and boil them for half an hour. Pour off the brown water, which will also contain a lot of the inner skins from the nuts. Add more boiling water and cook them again for a half hour. Keep pouring off the brown water, adding more water and keep boiling them for as long as it takes to get rid of the bitter tannin and inner skins.

   If you happen to have collected your acorns from the white oaks in southern Ontario, this process will take an hour or two. If you have gathered acorns from the red oaks of the north, it could take all day.

   How do you tell the red oaks from the white? Oaks leaves have a beautiful shape. They are four to six or more inches long, and two to three inches wide. They all have wavy edges (lobes). The difference is that the tips of the red oak lobes are sharply pointed, and the white oak lobes are rounded.

   A red oak tree will only produce a crop of acorns every other year. White oaks produce every year. The inside of a red oak acorn is ‘furry’, while the white oak acorn shell is smooth. For dining purposes the biggest difference between the two is that the red oaks have a lot more tannins than the whites.

   After boiling out the tannins, you can spread out the nuts to dry. Once they are thoroughly dry, they can be stored in jars for a very long time.

   To use the acorns right away, I put them into the blender with just enough water to turn them into mush. Then I make muffins. Here’s my recipe:

   In a large bowl mix 1½ cups of acorn mush, two eggs, ½ cup brown sugar, ½ cup sunflower oil, ¾ cup of yoghurt and a teaspoon of vanilla. Mix separately; one cup of white flour, one cup of whole-wheat flour, one teaspoon each of salt and baking soda. Mix the wet and dry together gently, then pour it into buttered muffin tins. Bake at 325 F for 25 minutes or until the centre bounces back when poked.

ReceivedSep.17, 2007

Mushrooms

   We’ve had some rain, the weather has cooled, and mushrooms are popping up in the forest. And in the fields, and lawns, and sometimes even in the cracks of the sidewalk.

   Mushrooms are crucial to the health of all living things. They are nature’s automatic recyclers. They are a major force in the breaking down of dead plants into their component minerals, making these available to the living. Some are very good to eat, and some are very bad.

   So, how can you tell the difference between a good mushroom and a bad one? There is no easy answer. If it turns blue when you cut it, is it good to eat? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Some of the most poisonous mushrooms turn blue when cut. As do some of the most delicious mushrooms.

   Some folks pick honey brown mushrooms that grow in groups on birch stumps at this time of year. But there are a couple of different kinds of pale brown mushrooms that grow on birch stumps at this time of year - - some of them will kill you. Some of them will just make you sick enough that you’ll want to die. Still, if you get the right ones, they are safe and delicious!

   So, how can you tell the difference between a good mushroom and a bad one? You have to find someone who knows what they are doing, and talk them into letting you come with them when they go out to pick.

   A lot of people pick mushrooms. Many of them only know one or maybe two kinds that are good to eat. And those are the only mushrooms they ever pick.

   If they are kind enough to let you tag along, be sure to pay attention to what they are looking for. What kind of habitat do the mushrooms like like? Forest or field? Do they grow on wood, or just on the ground? Do they grow in groups, or alone along the side of the trail? Are there bumps on top of the cap or is it smooth? Look underneath – are there gills like the mushrooms in the store? Or does it look more like a sponge? Does the flesh change colour when it is cut? Is there a skirt hanging around the top of the stem? Is the bottom of the stem skinny or fat?

   These are just a few of the ‘clues’ that guide mushroom collectors. Each and every mushroom has a very specific set of circumstances as to where and when it will grow, how it looks, and how it behaves. It takes a long time to get to know how to sort them all out.

   In fact, no one has ever sorted them all out. Even mushroom experts can’t identify every mushroom they find. Consider that there are probably more than a million different kinds of fungus. Most mushroom identification books only describe a few hundred. Even the more technical books describe just a thousand or so.

   Identifying mushrooms is tremendously more complex than identifying plants. And they are tremendously more dangerous for people who collect them without proper instruction. This is not something easily learned from a book.

   If you want to dine on wild mushrooms, spend some time in the woods over the next few weeks, and maybe you will be lucky enough to find a teacher out there picking!

PS:  Check out our Edible Wild Plants Workshop scheduled for September 14-16.

ReceivedSep.7, 2007

Chicory

   There are many flowers growing in my yard and garden, and nearly every one of them is good to eat. This is because eating is one of my favourite pastimes – so the things I plant, and the weeds I encourage, need to have an edible quality to them. Their beauty is a bonus feature for the menu.

   Chicory grows at the edge of the garden, in the hard-packed soil where we walk. Three-foot high scraggly stalks rise from a perennial root. You can find it easily along roadsides, especially in rural areas. Keep an eye out for it as you drive along, especially in the mornings. Chicory has brilliant blue flowers that bloom only until noon, then slowly fade away.

   All through the summer, a new crop of flowers blooms every day. I’ll gather these and use them as a garnish on almost everything. It’s not often we find blue foods – so they always perk up the prettiness of the plate. Still, the flowers are small (only an inch or two across), so you need to know that chicory has more than just a pretty flower to offer for the table.

   Very early in spring, the leaves of chicory can be picked and added to salads. They look almost identical to dandelion leaves, which are also wonderful for salads when they are young and tender. Sometimes we will put a board over the plants to blanch the leaves. This gives a longer picking season, and a greater quantity of leaves.

   Chicory is best known as a coffee substitute. Round about this time of year, we will dig up some of the roots, clean them well and roast them in a slow oven (200 F)for several hours. When they are crisp and brown, they are ground into a coarse powder. This can be used in your coffeemaker to make a wonderful smelling caffeine-free cuppa. Or, you an add it 50-50 to your regular coffee to smooth out the bitterness of the coffee, and reduce your caffeine intake.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Aug. 31, 2007

Squash Flowers

   How are your zucchini coming along this summer? Are your neighbours leaving theirs on your doorstep in the dark of night?

   Zucchini, pumpkins, summer and winter squash are all over the place in my garden this summer. The long vines of the pumpkin have overgrown the garlic and potato patches, which is just fine because those crops are finished for this year. Yet even now, these prolific plants are still putting out an abundance of flowers!

   Unfortunately, my zucchinis are only making female flowers, which is very unusual. I’ve had to pick male flowers from the other squash plants each day to tickle the female flowers so they will mature. Fortunately, there is an abundance of male flowers on all the other plants. I see a few pumpkins and other squashes coming along, so it looks like we’ll have pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving!

   The squash flowers in my garden are hugely abundant this year. They bring a brilliant morning beauty to the garden each day. And most days, I’ll pick them to brighten the dining table at lunch. Just the male flowers mind you - the female flowers have work to do to produce the zucchinis and pumpkins.

   Male flowers outnumber females by 20 to one. They only bloom for a day, then whither away. In fact, they often whither away by 11 in the morning! I have to be out there by 10 if I want to have enough to stuff for lunch. Yes, I pick them for their culinary beauty, not for a vase on the table.

   All the squash family flowers are edible. And given the abundance of male flowers, I figure we might as well eat them! Sometimes I’ll just use them to garnish the plate, and encourage everyone to put them on their sandwiches in place of lettuce. Sometimes they get snipped into the soup just before it is served, but most often the blossoms are stuffed with almond pate, or a sun-dried tomato and basil mixture.

   You can find the recipe for the almond pate in the online web archive from last January. Here’s the recipe for the sun-dried tomato and basil.

   Crush two cloves of fresh Ontario garlic. Put them into the blender with a box of Silken Tofu, a handful of chopped basil, and a dozen sun-dried tomatoes. Uses scissors to slice the tomatoes into smaller chunks before putting them in the blender. Add a tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil and a half-teaspoon of salt. Run the blender for just a minute. Allow the mix to sit for a half hour so the tomatoes can soak up the moisture from the tofu.

   Tuck a tablespoon of the mix into each flower and arrange them on a plate. Beautiful dining!

Received Aug. 27, 2007

Stinging Nettle

   The easiest way to find stinging nettle is to bump into one. Ouch!

   I was walking along a tiny creek on my grandfather’s farm when I first met this plant. Even though I had never seen it before, I must have heard it spoken of because I instantly knew I’d been stung by the nettle. It hurt! Little red welts formed on my skin.

   Instinctively, I took another nearby plant, crushed the stem and rubbed it on the nettle stings. I learned later that the second plant is called Jewelweed, and its slightly translucent stems are indeed useful for taking the sting out of the nettle.

As it turns out, nettles are a highly desirable plant to have nearby, so long as you can avoid touching the growing plant. A patch of stinging nettle indicates fertile soil, and is said to be a great place to plant apple trees.

Farmers used to know that stinging nettles are a wonderful addition to the feed for their animals – after it has been cut and dried, of course. Once the plant is dried, it looses all of its stinging qualities. Nettles have very high levels of calcium and protein, along with lots of other vitamins and minerals. Livestock instinctively prefer dried nettles to any other food.

From my perspective, the nutritional value of nettles is a bonus for this most delicious plant. We start picking nettles early in the gardening season, right about at the time when we’re just starting to put the seeds in for our cultivated plants.

Five minutes before dinner, I head out to the garden with a cooking pot and scissors. The stems are 6 to 12 inches high, and I snip them directly into the pot. No touching required. With just a little bit of water in the bottom of the pot, the greens are steamed for a few minutes. This takes the sting out, treating us with a delicious green vegetable. Add salt and butter, or maybe even a dash of apple cider vinegar – yum!!

Nettles make a wonderfully nutritious, deep green tea as well. Late August is a good time to snip the long stems and bring them in to dry. I hang the stems in a cool dry place for a week or two, then strip off the leaves to store in jars for the winter. The stems go into the compost to enrich it for next summer’s garden.

As you can see in the photo, nettles have long leaves that are pointed all along the edges and at the tip. The leaves grow in pairs along the stem. At this time of year the flowers appear at the leaf joints. These are thin strings of whitish green buds.

While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Aug. 20, 2007

My Grandmother’s Garden

   I remember hot summer days in my grandmother’s garden. All the plants were lush and wonderful - especially the tomatoes. I loved to work in the tomato patch. Though many of the plants were nearly lost in the overgrowth of weeds, the deep red tomatoes ripened in the depths of it all. I would spend an hour or two working there, ruthlessly ripping out the weeds and tossing them into a pile. Stopping every now and then to bite into another wonderful tomato – hot with the summer sun.

   Forty years ago I didn’t know the names of the weeds I yanked. I didn’t know how delicious most of them could be. I only knew my love of tomatoes, and the need to free them from the massive growth of plants that were not tomatoes.

   I do remember one particular weed though, because it was so different from the rest. It grew in great mats that hugged the ground. It had succulent little paddle-shaped leaves that grew along fat reddish-green stems. It was easy to pull from the soft ground in my grandmother’s garden. I made huge piles of it between the rows of tomatoes.

   My grandmother’s garden grew with an abundance I can only dream about. She worked with rich sandy loam. Living in the middle of the northern Ontario forest, I work with stone filled, heavy, acidic clay in the good places. The rest is bedrock.

   After a couple of decades bringing in sand and silt, and manure from local farms, we are able to grow a modest garden. And in the past few years, we have been able to grow a few of those wonderful succulent plants I so carelessly tossed from my grandmother’s garden.

   I know it now as purslane. I’ve learned that it has a tiny yellow flower that blooms only in the morning, and that if you pull it out and toss it into piles between the rows of tomatoes, its succulent leaves will provide enough nutrients to make sure the seeds develop by the thousands. If you are ambitious, you can toss the plants onto a tarp instead of the ground, and when they dry up, you can shake out the tiny black seeds to use as a cereal.

   More often though, purslane is used fresh in salads or stir-fried veggies. I nibble on in right in the garden – along with the sun-warmed tomatoes, of course.

  In a good year, when the purslane grows long fat stems, I’ll make pickled purslane. Gather in the largest, fattest stems. Take off the leaves and wash the stems carefully. Make a solution of one cup white vinegar, 2 cups cold water, and ¼ cup salt. and a half-teaspoon of alum. Put a flower of dill and two cloves of garlic in the bottom of a small jar along with a small hot pepper, then loosely pack in the purslane stems, leaving a half-inch clear at the top. Add two more garlic cloves, and another dill flower. Now fill the jar with the brine, and close it loosely. Let it sit in a cool dark place for a month, then tighten the lid. That’s it! I thank Euell Gibbons for this recipe - from his “Stalking the Wild Asparagus” book.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Aug. 13, 2007

Nightshades

   Nearly every weed that flourishes in my garden is good to eat. But not all of them. This is why it is so crucial for you to be positive in the identification of any plant you bring into the kitchen, including the garden plants that you carefully tend. All the ‘nightshade’ plants are poisonous – including tomato, potato, peppers and eggplant.

   Just as you need to know what part of these cultivated plants is edible, you need to be aware of plants that may be similar in appearance. Take common nightshade for example.

   Sometimes the seeds of this plant will find their way into my garden from the compost I pick up at local farms. Nightshade is a beautiful plant, and depending on which species of nightshade you have, the flowers can be white or yellow, or purple. The berries that follow could be red, dark blue, or purple. They are all poisonous.

   Have you ever noticed that your tomato plants have flowers, green fruits as well as beautiful red ripe tomatoes on them all at the same time? This is one of the basic characteristics of the nightshade family. If you have wild nightshade in your yard or garden, take a close look at the structure of the flowers. Compare it to the flowers on your tomato, pepper and potato plants. They all have five-pointed starry flowers, with a bright yellow ‘beak’ poking out the middle.

   I have managed to keep the wild nightshade out of my garden, but I allow one plant to grow in the ‘orchard’ near our two apple trees and black currents. This is so I can show visitors what they need to watch out for.

   The leaf is dark green to sometimes dark purplish, 1-4 inches long, alternate along the stem, and often have 2 basal lobes or leaflets at the base. The leaves have smooth edges. It often grows sort of like a vine along the ground.

   This close-up of the flowers of bittersweet nightshade illustrates the beauty of the plant. I’ve seen this plant growing under the apple trees of Collingwood, and in the untended scruffy areas by the sidewalks in Sudbury. The fruits will eventually be bright red. Despite its name of ‘bittersweet’, the berries should not be tasted.

   There are other poisonous plants and berries that grow in our gardens, forests, meadows and roadsides. This is why I end the summer edible wild plant series every week with this reminder:

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received Aug. 6, 2007

What Goes with Tomatoes?



   “Home-grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes…Just two things that money can’t buy, and that’s true love and home-grown tomatoes!” This song just keeps coursing through my head every time I visit the garden and pluck another ripe red tomato. I bite into it right there, while it is still warm with the summer sun. Mmmm.. this is heaven.

   Tomatoes struggle to find their way in my garden. Living in the middle of the forest, our soil was never intended to grow exotic things like tomatoes and cucumbers. Still, we manage to dig in enough compost and manure to get a few plants to perform their magic, and grace us with fresh garden produce.

   My favourite lunch of summer consists of a slice of bread, a slather of mayonnaise, and a thick slice of homegrown tomato. Top with a sprinkle of salt, and I’m happy. For most of August, this is lunch. And sometimes a mid-afternoon snack. After a long fall, winter and spring without homegrown tomatoes, I really crave these warm, red fruits of summer.

   Sometimes for a little variety, I’ll bring in a few sprigs of chickweed to garnish the sandwich. Chickweed has little round leaves, the size of a dime and smaller. The leaves grow in pairs along a thin stem, with little branchlets taking off from the joints. Tiny white flowers bloom only in the morning.

   Chickweed makes a sandwich a lot more interesting than lettuce does, and the bright red tomatoes along with the deep green sprigs of chickweed is a beautiful sight.

   Chickweed is a tough little plant. It is one of the earliest greens we pick from the garden in spring, and it is definitely the hardiest plant through the late fall. Last winter I even picked it in the middle of January!

   Chickweed is more than just a garnish for tomato sandwiches. It can be added to any salad, and if you have a bumper crop of it,(as I do) you can make the entire salad from chickweed.

   There are several other great garden weeds that can be tossed into your garden salad. Some of them I’ve written about earlier this summer, including daisy leaves and daylily flowers. Keep reading this summer series on edible wild plants, and by the end of August we’ll build an entirely wild wonderful salad.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received July 29, 2007

Ground Ivy & Clover

   Take a good look at this plant. If you have a healthy lawn, it is probably growing there. Chances are good it is growing around the edges of your house, and trying to creep into your garden. You may know it as Creeping Charley. I call it Ground Ivy.

   I have heard people complain about having this plant in their lawn, but I can’t understand why. I know that some folks like to have a perfect monoculture of deep green grass in front of their houses, and I can’t understand that either.

   I ask, what is a lawn for? To look pretty, to walk on in bare feet, to smell nice when you cut it, to play croquet, or putt a few golf balls? Ground ivy is the ideal plant to compliment the skinny little grass blades in your yard. It meets all the criteria of a good lawn. It smells great when you walk on it and when it is cut, it is soft underfoot, it stays green without a lot of watering, and it is tough enough to run around and play on.

   I think ground ivy is a pretty little plant. When it grows in the lawn, the leaves stay much smaller than shown in this picture from my garden. It lies close to the ground to hide itself from the blades of your mower.

   Ground ivy is a member of the mint family. The leaves are found in pairs along a square stem. It creeps along the ground with long runners that take root at every junction. Pretty little purple flowers appear near the stem at the leaf joints. Like all the aromatic mints, ground ivy is very good at spreading its territory. This makes it very difficult to control. So why not just let it run free in the lawn and save ourselves a lot of grief?

   Another sometimes-misunderstood plant in the lawn is clover. Everyone knows the three-leafed clover, and its little white flowers. True, it is not grass, but clover has an important role to play in the lawn.

   Like ground ivy, clover is pretty, soft to walk on, smells nice, and is tough enough for the kids to run and play. It also needs less care and water than grass. As a bonus, clover brings nitrogen into your soil, so you don’t need fertilizer.

   Welcome both these plants into your lawn and get to know them well. Then bring in a few of the leaves and flowers to make tea! Ground ivy makes a lovely, minty tea. Take a handful of fresh leaves, pour boiling water over top, and then steep for five minutes. Add a handful of fresh clover blossoms to the next pot of tea, to bring out new flavours.

   If you find you really like the tea, the leaves and flowers of both plants can be dried for use throughout the year.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. No pesticides or herbicides! 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received July 23, 2007

Ox-Eye Daisy

   He loves, me, he loves me not, he loves me….. The common white daisy is a lovely plant to have scattered through the garden. My garden tends to focus more on things to eat than things to admire, so it’s really nice when I can have both.

   The wild ‘ox-eye’ daisy is easily found on roadsides and old fields, in my garden, and probably yours. The familiar white petals surround a bright yellow middle, which if you look closely, you will see is depressed in the centre. These flowers are four to five centimetres across, and grow atop a long, stem. Tiny leaves decorate the stem as it rises to greet the sun.

   However, the best edible part of the daisy is not the flower. And that makes finding the edible part more difficult. First, you need to know that the ox-eye daisy is a biennial plant. This means it makes a rosette of dark green leaves one summer, and the flowers the next summer. The best edible part of daisies is the large green leaves of the first year plant.

   Daisy leaves are dark, long, and lobed. Depending on how good the soil is where they are growing, they could be as much as 15 cm long and three cm wide near the tips. But usually they are smaller than that. The first year leaves all grow from a central root.

   The plants I let grow amoung the tomatoes in my garden get quite big. This makes them easy to pick. I’ll gather up a handful of them to decorate the plate before I slice fresh garden tomatoes on top to serve for lunch. The daisy leaves take the place of lettuce on sandwiches. Sometimes I’ll chop a handful of the leaves to add to a salad, and sometimes I’ll use daisy leaves in a recipe that calls for a lot of parsley. Daisy leaves make a great replacement for parsley!

   Now is the best time to learn about daisies for dining. The flowering plants are easy to find. Take a close look at the tiny leaves that grace the stem. Look right down to the bottom of the plant, and get to know what the leaves look like. Then look around the garden to find leaves that match, but lack the flower stem.

   You could eat the leaves from the second-year flowering plant, but they are small and tough, hard to pick. You could also sprinkle the white petals from the flowers on salads or other dishes for edible decoration. But the first year leaves remain the best tasting, and the easiest to pick.

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.
       

Received July 16, 2007

Daylilies

   Daylilies are one of the most beautiful of the edible wilds that grace our summer menu. Most of them will be found in yards, where they have been planted as ornamental flowers. We transplanted ours from a patch of ‘wild’ daylilies at the roadside of an abandoned homestead.

    The orange variety is the most common. They rarely make seeds, but the roots readily spread through as much area as the gardener allows. They are easy to transplant by simply taking a shovelful of roots from the centre of the patch in fall or spring. The donor patch will never notice because the root mass will simply fill in the gap the next summer.

   Daylilies are so named because each bloom that opens in the morning fades at the end of the day. A tall flower stalk rises from the long, green, sword-like leaves of the plant. It holds a whole bunch of buds in different stages of development. Every day or two, one of the flower buds will mature and open its six bright orange petals to greet the morning.

   Dining on daylilies is sort of like having your cake and eating it too. Since each bloom only lasts a day, there is no loss of beauty from the garden when you eat them every day.

   The whole flower is quite delicious – especially the very bottom part where the nectar lies. We’ll break the flower apart and toss it on top of any salad just for the beauty of it! We use the flowers in place of lettuce on sandwiches, and as garnishes on the dinner platter.

   Daylily flowers are big enough for stuffing as well. Here’s the recipe for my favourite flower stuffing:

   Put a box of silken tofu in a blender. Add a quarter cup of chopped sun-dried tomatoes, and a handful of coarsely chopped fresh basil. Add a half-teaspoon of sea salt and a tablespoon of good extra virgin olive oil. A clove or two of crushed garlic goes on top. Pulse this in the blender for a minute, then put it in the fridge for half an hour to allow the flavours to mingle.

   Stuff any large edible flowers, and arrange them on a plate. Daylilies, and the male flowers from zucchini and other squash plants work well.

   Probably you won’t be able to eat all the fresh daylilies that bloom each day. You can go through the patch and pick up the faded flowers each morning, and dry them. These are added to soups though the winter. Some Chinese recipes ask for them!

   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.
  

Received July 9, 2007

Milkweed

   In early June the first monarch butterflies arrived in the milkweed patch to lay their eggs. This year there seem to be more butterflies than ever – and more eggs on the milkweed leaves. When I was plucking the young plants to bring in for dinner, I had to be very careful to avoid the little white spots.

   Two weeks later, caterpillars were all over the place! Little green, yellow, black and white stripy caterpillars were munching away on every leaf. They ate, and they grew, and they ate, and they grew. I had to give up on having milkweed for dinner because the monarch caterpillars needed all the plants we have.

   Kate brought two big caterpillars into the house, along with a stem of juicy, pale green milkweed leaves. The caterpillars continued to munch, and within a day, decided it was time to move into the next phase of their lives. They both climbed to the screen that covered the jar, attached themselves firmly and changed from soft stripy caterpillars to hard crystal, pale green jewels – the chrysalis. By the end of next week, two beautiful monarch butterflies will emerge.

   Meanwhile, outside in the milkweed patch, hardly a leaf remains on the plants. The pale, dusty pink flowers are just beginning to form, and I think the caterpillars are going to eat them as well. I have given up on the hope that we would get to eat the flowers. Again, the monarchs need them more than we do.

   Most years there are plenty of milkweed flowers for both of us. The caterpillar numbers are small enough that they don’t need to eat the flowers, and the flowers are abundant enough that the new butterflies can sip the nectar, and we can bring in a big crop to cook as well.

   Monarchs are totally dependant on the milkweed plant to raise their young. And the milkweed plant is totally dependant on the monarch to pollinate the deeply complex flowers. So, what will a 10-fold increase in the number of caterpillars do to this relationship?

   Normally, this new crop of butterflies would mate, and perhaps lay their eggs on the same patch where they grew up. Those caterpillars would in turn, eat and grow, change into butterflies and migrate to Mexico for the winter. What will happen this year? And what impact will that have on next year’s crop of butterflies?

   I’m not worried about losing the milkweed patch to the overgrazing of this year’s caterpillars. Milkweed is a really tough plant. Its root structure is very hardy. I already see new plants emerging around the edges of the patch. Maybe we’ll get a late picking of flowers.

   If we do, I’ll gather them in (not all of them, mind you) and toss them into a pot of already boiling water for a few minutes. Drain that water off, and pour more boiling water over them for another minute. I’ll drain them well, and serve steaming hot with butter! Yumm!

   This boiling process is essential to remove the bitter milky sap. Next year, you can pick the very young milkweed shoots, the young leaves, and the flowers and cook them in the same way. The very young milkweed pods are also delicious.

   As always, if you are going to try this new edible wild plant you need to be certain of the identification! Two related plants in the milkweed family are poisonous. Dogbane is very common in our area but has smooth, thin stalks and butterfly weed has orange flowers.

       Received July 2, 2007

Garden Delights

   If you have an immaculate weed-free garden, you are missing out on some of the best vegetables ever grown in the north! If you are relaxed enough to let a few weeds find a bit of sunshine between the tomatoes, you are in luck! Chances are very good that the weeds in your garden are good to eat. The only trick is that you have to take the time to learn their names, then find out if they are on the good to eat list. Most of them will be.

   My very favourite garden weed is Lamb’s Quarters. Some people know it better as goosefoot, or pigweed. I’ve seen it described in books as New Zealand Spinach, and apparently, fancy restaurants in New York call it this. Some farmers grow it commercially!

   We had to introduce it to our garden 25 years ago. We let the first five plants we cultivated go to seed, and we’ve never had to plant it again. This is why most people think of it as a weed. Once established in a garden, it is extraordinarily abundant. Pull it out, and hidden seeds in the soil will sprout a new crop. This is handy, so we are able to enjoy fresh young Lamb’s Quarters all summer long.

   Like the spinach it replaces in my garden, Lamb’s Quarters is best picked when it is young and tender. The leaves are about three centimetres long, two centimetres wide at the base, narrowing down to about one centimetre near the tip. The edges are wavy, and if you look very closely, you will see mealy, whitish, stuff on the leaves, especially on the bottom side. Sometimes it has a lilac tint.

   I pull the whole plant out of the soil, nip off the roots, and toss the plant into my gathering basket. There are just too many of them to let them all grow, so every week or so, I cruise the garden and pull out the tender stalks and leaves.

   I give them a good wash in cool water, just in case some dirt clings to them, then I toss them into a pot to cook. It doesn’t need a lot of water – usually the water that clings to the washed plants if plenty for steaming these yummy greens. It is OK to eat them raw, but I prefer this steaming method instead.

   Add a little butter to the steaming greens and enjoy! Or make quiche, or lasagna, or anything else you might normally use spinach for.

   Chances are good that if you have a big garden, you won’t be able to eat all the Lamb’s Quarters that grow there. Each time I ‘weed’ the garden, I have masses of Lamb’s Quarters to bring to the kitchen. These I steam, cool, and freeze. They are a wonderful taste of summer in the middle of February.



   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them (not a problem with Lamb’s Quarters!) 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

       Received June 23, 2007

Cattails, Part 2

   The best edible wild plants are those that meet these criteria:

1. Wonderfully delicious

2. Easy to identify

3. Easy to find in abundance

4. Easy to collect in quantity

5. Easy to cook

   Cattails in the middle if June meet all these criteria. If you read last week’s article, then you already know that cattails provide a variety of foods depending on what part of the plant is available at the time of year that you pick it.

   RIGHT NOW is the time to pick the best of the cattails, the emerging flower heads.

   Because of the hot weather we have had over the past few weeks, the cattail flowers are ‘blooming’ a week or two earlier than usual. The part that we pick is the dark green tops. It is easy to walk through the cattail patch, and snap the tops off a few dozen plants in just a few minutes. Take them home, boil for a few minutes in a little bit of water, and ta da! Cattails on the cob! Drain well, slather with butter and salt, and enjoy. Yumm!!!

   The only trick to collecting cattail flowers is being there at the right time. All through the spring, the long, green, sword-like leaves of cattails have been rising from the wetlands. The flower stalk is exactly the same colour and shape as the leaves, so it is not obvious when it rises from the middle of each plant.

   At first, the flower is encased in the leaves. When it finally emerges, it is a dark green spike sticking up at nearly the same height as the outside leaves. This is the male pollen head. The female part of the flower is a thin pale green, just below the dark green spike. Unless you are watching the cattail patch very closely, you’ll miss it.

   In just a few days, the dark green spike will begin to turn yellow, as the pollen develops. A few days after that, the pollen will blow away, and you’ll see a short bare stick above the darkening female flower below.

   Not all the flowers mature at the same time, so if you happen to see a few yellow spikes in the cattail patch, there’s still time to go in to collect some of the delicious dark green parts. As you walk along, you may notice that some of the flowers still encased in the protective outer leaves. Those also snap off quite easily, so take them along as you harvest. Try to break them off between the dark green and light green parts, leaving the thin-fleshed female flower on the stalk.

   I collect the yellow tops as well! They require a bit more work, but the pollen can also be collected and used along with regular flour in baking. It gives a beautiful colour and flavour to muffins, pancakes and breads.



   While harvesting any wild plant, keep these cautionary thoughts in mind. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them (not a problem with cattails!) 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

Received June 18, 2007

Cattails – Part 1

   Cattails are one of the most easily recognized wetland plants. The long sword like leaves, a long skinny flower stalk that sports a fuzzy dark brown spike by the end of the summer, are a familiar roadside sight.

   Many people have heard that cattail roots are good to eat, but have you ever tried them? Probably not. Collecting and processing cattail roots for the table is a laborious task. First you have to wrestle them from the muck, then clean them. Peel off the outer layer until you get to the starchy core.

   You’ll notice that the pristine white inner roots have a rope-like appearance. You need to scrape the soft white starch away from the stringy fibres that hold the whole thing together. You can collect a few cups of this starch in an hour or two. Dry it thoroughly, then use it like flour.

   The flour has a very nice taste, but that’s not why the cattail is the first on my list of summer edible wild plants. I like cattails because as we roll though these warm days of June, the edible parts of the plant get easier and easier to collect.

   For the next week or two, it is the cattail hearts that are most delicious. Put your old running shoes on and wander into the cattail swamp to pull out a few of the young plants. These are now about three or four feet high. Give a good tug, and the plant will come away from the roots.

   Now peel back the outer leaves. You’ll notice a gel-like substance near the bottom. This slippery stuff has been used as a soothing topical antiseptic or anaesthetic for bug bites and scratches. Interesting, but not the reason we’re getting our feet wet.

   Keep peeling off the outer leaves until you get to the core. As you approach the centre, peel off the leaves more carefully, bending each one sharply until it naturally breaks off. You will end up with a thin stalk a little bigger than a pencil. This is the tender core, or heart of the cattail.

   If you are very careful in your work, this core can be eaten without further cleaning. Nibble on them while you work, chop them into a salad, toss them into a stir-fry, or steam them like asparagus. I have used them in place of celery in potato salad and they are delicious.

   Now, a few words of caution. 1) Always be certain of the identity of a plant before you eat it. 2) Be sure to collect your edibles from an area that is not polluted. 3) Think conservation! If there are only a few plants in an area, don’t pick any of them. (not a problem with cattails!) 4) Try a small quantity to begin with, as some people have allergic reactions to new foods.

   Next week, cattails part 2 – it just keeps getting better!

       

Received June 11, 2007

Intro to Edible Wild Plants



   This article begins a summer series of delicious wild dining. Plan to walk with me through your garden and the forest as we explore the wonderful world of delicious edible wild plants. Over the next three months, this column will focus on the best of the edible wild plants in Ontario.

   This study begins with a review of two of my favourite books. If you want to get serious about learning how to identify and prepare nature’s bounty for the table, you’ll want to start by getting one or both of these books.

   Euell Gibbons has been my inspiration for edible wild dining for more than 30 years. Though his books were written more than 40 years ago, they are still in print. “Stalking the Wild Asparagus” is the best of all Edible Wild Plant books for beginners.

   Gibbons selected a few dozen of the most abundant and delicious edible wild plants to describe in this book. He teaches about everything from acorns to winter cress. He describes your most hated weeds with such admiration, that you’ll want to begin cultivating them alongside the tomatoes.

   His stories are full of historical, medicinal, and culinary details. He writes with humour and authority. You’ll pick up the book to get a recipe for dandelion wine, and end up reading right through to the end of the daylily chapter before you know it.

   “I know of no other outdoor sport which can furnish me with as much pleasure as foraging for food which can be made into exquisite dishes to share with family and friends” from the introduction to “Stalking the Wild Asparagus” by Euell Gibbons. If you are a gardener, you’ll know the deep pleasure that comes from dining on the gifts from the garden – get to know the weeds within your garden, and you can double the produce that comes to your table.

   The second indispensable book on edible wilds is Lee Allan Peterson’s “Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants”, number 23 in the Peterson’s field guide series. This book is as close as you can get to a comprehensive description of what’s good to eat in the wilds.

   Whereas Gibbons gives great details of how to use a few dozen easily identifiable plants and lots of recipes, the Peterson book is geared to learning how to identify over 300 plants, and gives only a cursory view of how they can be used. Gibbons will devote 5 pages to a single plant; Peterson will describe 5 plants on a singe page.

   The Peterson book is organized into sections defined by flower colour. The pages are set up to have a written description on the left, and drawings of the plants on the right. It takes some practice to learn how to identify new plants. And because it is focussed on the flowers, there are limitations to when a plant can be easily found within.

   For beginners, get Gibbons’ wild asparagus book first. It can get you started on a journey of deciduous wild dining right away with plants that you are already familiar with. Whey you are ready to expand into the wider world of forest and fields, the Peterson book will be your constant companion.

   Of course, if you are in no hurry to learn everything at once, just keep a watch for this column through the summer. We’ll walk together through the season and enjoy each plant at its peak of perfection.

        PS:  Check out our Edible Wild Plants Workshop scheduled for September 14-16.

Received June 4, 2007

Hanging Out



   Hanging the laundry outside to dry is one of the lost perks of modern society. I used to think to was a big chore to hang the laundry; all those clothes pins, remembering to bring it in before a rain - or more often forgetting to bring it in from the rain and having to wait an extra day for it to get dry.

   Several years ago my elderly mother told me that hanging laundry was her favourite activity. My perception was that it was her only activity, as she was nearly housebound by that point in her life. I was happy that she got even this little bit of exercise, but for me, the labour was still a chore.

   I have memories of hanging laundry with my mom when I was a child. Even in the cold of winter sometimes, we would go out together to put the clothes on the line. She had a little rhyme; “shake it, but don’t break it!” is all I remember. Then she would give the shirt a good shake that would crack the air just before she pinned it to the line. I thought it was rather silly, as surely the soft clothes could not break.

   I remember how wonderful my clothes smelled, and how soft they felt.

   When Kate was young we bought our first washing machine. By then we had enough solar energy to run the machine in the summer. It was great to eliminate the weekly trip to the laundromat.

   We had wonderful diapers made with Velcro – no more pins, no more tedious folding the old flat diapers. When we hung them in the sun to dry we discovered what our grandmothers never taught us. The sun will bleach out stains that the washer could not. There was no need to put harsh chlorine into the washer, two hours in the sun made the diapers as white as new.

   Hanging laundry indoors in January has the added benefit of humidifying the dry winter air. But inside drying just doesn’t have the same appeal as hanging outside.

   The best part of the whole laundry process is taking the laundry down - gathering it in my arms, feeling the wonderful softness, breathing in the fresh aroma, and bringing it all back inside. The sheets at night are soft and fragrant, my shirts in the morning remind me of the sun and outdoors. After a long winter if hanging ‘in’, the opportunity to hang ‘out’ in spring is joyful.

   Thanks for the lesson, Mom.

Received May 28, 2007

Noise in the Woods

   The silence of the forest is gone. The quiet of the mornings we enjoyed just a few months ago is just a memory. For the past several weeks the noise has been steadily increasing. Day and night, the stillness is just a memory.

   Loons call through the night, and owls, and sometimes a lone wolf. Frogs and toads add their chorus; the sharp peep-peep-peep of the spring peepers, and long melodious trill of the toad.

   At dawn, the deep whoosh of bat wings flutter by as they return to their roost to rest through the day. I especially like to hear the bats have returned, as they will spend the next month dining on blackflies and mosquitoes that are just now beginning to add to the noise of the spring symphony.

   Pileated woodpeckers tap out their morning calls – just to let their neighbours know they have staked out their territory. They find the most wonderful drums on the hollow standing dead trees in the forest. The deep resonance varies from one drumming location to the next. I listen with awe as they tap – one to the east of me, then another to the west, then a distant third to the south. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat -tat -tat -tat as it fades into the cool morning air. Randomly through the day the pileated woodpeckers will replay the concert, which I never tire of hearing.

   Other woodpeckers tap out their own unique rhythm and tones. We sometimes are fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the hairy woodpecker, the downy, and even the black-backed woodpeckers.

   Mornings are filled with the songs of thrushes, warblers, sparrows, grouse, ravens, herons, ducks, bitterns, and of course, the loons.

   The white-throated sparrow is a favourite of mine. Its clear sweet voice stands out from the others. It sings a new song each spring that I can mimic by whistling in return. Thirty years ago I remember they sang the first bar of a song I had just learned at piano lessons, “Home Again”. The sparrow would sing the first bar, I would reply with the second. Soon the sparrows were singing both, and we sang together.

   As few years later they spent the entire summer singing out “Oh Canada!” Very patriotic birds, the white throated sparrows. Each spring I delight in the new tones they sing, and at their responsiveness as I whistle to them.

   Add in the sound of the wind in the trees, and waves lapping on the shore, the splash of the beavers, drumming of the grouse, and the ever-beautiful call of the loons, and the forest is a very noisy place. It’s a wonderful noise.

Received May 14, 2007

Keeping Cool

   Sixteen years ago I bought my first new propane fridge. At $1500, it was quite a serious investment. It was worth every penny. The new Consul fridge replaced the old Servel that we had lived with for the previous 16 years. The old Servel worked just fine – so long as you didn’t need much freezer space, and you didn’t mind that making ice cubes was about the limit of its talents. Though that fridge was more than 40 years old at the time, we were able to sell it for $100. Propane fridges really last!

   The new propane fridge uses less than half the propane, the freezer is more than twice as big, and its freezer keeps things at –18 C. Its capacity is a grand eight cubic feet - one for the freezer, and seven for the fridge. Despite the small size, it has been able to do the job. Even though we only go to town for groceries once a week or less, we manage just fine with this little fridge.

   Choosing the model of the propane fridge was easy. Our choice was to get a fridge ‘made’ by Danby, or Consul. Both were 8 cubic feet, both were made by the same manufacturer, both had the same price tag. The only difference was the decal. I bought the one that was in stock.

   This spring I’ve been out shopping for a new fridge. We did a major expansion of our solar energy system last fall, and now we have power to spare. From April through September our solar electric system produces a huge surplus of energy. Bringing in an electric fridge to use this energy seemed like a great idea – until I went shopping.

   Do you have any idea how many fridges are on the market? One website I looked at had more than 550 listed! Why? I spent two days in Sudbury opening fridge doors, looking for something that would work for us.

   I decided I wanted another small fridge, so that narrowed the selection to a few dozen. But as I shopped I saw that the little fridges were priced close to the same as the bigger ones, and were only marginally more energy efficient. I opened more fridge doors. It was not a pretty sight.

   New fridges are built for a consumer society that has gone out of control. They are designed to support the super-box-store-extra-large sizes of everything. The freezers are too big, the shelves on the doors are too big, and the insulation is too thin. No wonder North Americans use more energy than anyone else in the world. Even with 500 models to choose from, none are well designed to conserve energy. Sure, today’s fridges use only a fraction of the energy from 20 years ago – but we could do a lot better.

   I finally did find a little fridge that I like. Twelve cubic feet. What will I do with all that space? It was made in Ontario – just before the company moved out to China. Taking the jobs along with it.

Received May 4, 2007

Hidden Trails



   Spring is a wonderful time to get out to explore in the forest. A soon as the ice goes off the lakes, we take some time to search for old, forgotten trails.

   It was one of those wonderful spring afternoons – the lake calm, the sun high in the sky. Allan and I scanned the shoreline from the canoe. We looked closely down at the map, up at the skyline of the forest, back down to the map and then to the shoreline once again. With practiced eyes, we could make a pretty good guess as to where the trail would most likely have begun.

   We pulled the canoe ashore, and walked into the deep dark woods. This bit of land lay facing the northern sky, and was damp underfoot. Thin black spruces grew densely at the shore, and soon mingled with balsam fir and cedar as we pushed inward.

   The first bit of trail is currently maintained by the local beavers. A well-worn depression in the thin soil was easy to follow for the first hundred feet. Then we had to look harder. Keeping track of the lay of the land, watching for ancient blazes on the oldest trees, watching for subtle signs of the ancient trail, we wandered deep into the forest. Allan took one trail, I took another.

   I love to walk in the forest at this time of year. There are no leaves on the trees, and no bugs in the air. The air is clear and fresh, tracks of the moose are easy to see. Tiny green plants are just beginning to wake from their long winter’s rest. Little green leaves unfurl from dormant buds.

   As the land rose from the lake, the forest changed from evergreens to hardwoods. Yellow birch grew alongside scattered cedars. One of them was bigger than I could hug - and it had a barely discernable blaze on the lake ward side. Was this the trail? Looking back, and looking forward, I could see no obvious path. There weren’t many trees as old as this one, and none I could see that were blazed.

   A little further up the hill and off to the east, a forest of sugar maple called out for a visit. Allan was there already, admiring the open view through the leafless forest, looking over the little valley we had just come out of.

   Allan made a plan to traverse the valley, back and forth, looking for clues. I opted to stay in the maples, and take in the pleasure of their presence.

   I walked on up to the top of the hill; nibbling on some of the hundreds of thousands of tiny maple sprouts that were poking up through the leaves, hugging the maples, the yellow birches, and a few remnant white pines that soared above the rest of the forest.

   As the sun sank lower in the sky, I wandered back down the hill. Out of the hardwoods into the damp moss covered forest floor, under the black spruce and balsam, and along an intermittant spring stream. Every now and then there would be ice in the depths of a heavily shaded puddle. A couple of the largest cedars bore the ancient mark of someone’s axe – blazes from the old winter trail? Or just someone marking their way as they travelled this was a hundred years ago?

Received April 30, 2007

The Last of the Ice



   Monday, April 23, 2007. The ice just left yesterday, and I miss it already.

   A week ago there was 25 to 30 cm of ice on the lake, and it was hard as a rock. On Monday a week ago, we drove the snowmachine across the lake for the last time. Allan had just returned from holidays. Kate and I drove over to pick him up.

   On Tuesday last week, the three of us went for a very long walk on the ice. It was so beautiful! The variations in colour and texture were fascinating. Some places the ice was black and almost clear. Kate and I lay down and peered into the depths. Tiny air bubbles reached as far as we could see - looking like a little galaxy of stars.

   We took the ice chipper with us, and our measuring pole. It was good to have Allan home again, as it was quite an effort to break a hole through the thick ice. We checked the black spots, we checked the grey ice a few feet away, we checked the ice at the edge of the long thin cracks. What we found was a lot of ice.

   The dark ice was easy to chip at the surface, but much harder below. The ice was so strong and solid that the water did not seep into the hole until the chipper was nearly all the way through the hole! At each hole we measured the thickness of the ice, and every time it was 25 cm or more. Lots of ice!

   Over the years, we have always noted that the darkest ice is the first ice to soften. The dark ice areas were determined in December, when the ice just began to form. These areas appear at the conjunction of old ice and new. Our lake never freezes over all at once. Always, it freezes a little bit at the edges, at the end of the long bays, in the shallow areas. Over the course of a few weeks, the ice extends further out the bay, and gets pushed back. Each time an edge is created. This edge always has black ice associated with it – and that black ice is where the weak spots are in spring.

   We walked five kilometres on the ice on Tuesday a week ago. We saw amazing formations of dark grey ice, half a metre wide, and three kilometres long. Was this from a crack that had opened in the very thin ice of late December?

   We explored little islands, stepping easily from ice to land, and back again on the other side. A narrow rim of water sparkled in the sunshine at the edges of the bedrock. This gave us a clear view of the thickness of the ice, as well as an indication that our walking days would soon be done.

   Indeed, the next day was to be my last day to walk on the ice. The temperature Tuesday night did not go below freezing. The warmth of the day lingered into the night. When we went for our walk Wednesday morning, the ice was beginning to talk.

   Every now and then, it whispered in a soft little creaky voice. We avoided stepping on those spaces, and we did not venture far from home. Chipping through the ice, even at the creaky places, still took some effort, but not as much as the day before.

   Wednesday night the temperature went down to –2, which was just enough to firm up the surface of the ice. On Thursday morning Allan walked out 100 feet from shore, avoiding the dark spots. He measured 15 to 20 cm of ice.

   On Friday morning, the thermometer read –3 C. Allan took this as in invitation to step out onto the ice just one more time - - just to show he could. “Lots of ice!” he told me. But he didn’t try it again in the afternoon.

   Saturday morning I got the canoe out and paddled along the shoreline half way out our bay. The narrow band of water ended there, so I pulled the canoe up on shore and hiked to the end of the bay. I climbed the hill, then climbed the same white pine that I had climbed back in December when I was watching the lake freeze over. It felt good to walk upon the soft brown earth again.

   The tree was easier to climb in April than it was in December. I wore running shoes and a light sweater last Saturday as opposed to the heavy boots and coat in December. I love the view!

   Looking down upon the lake, I saw a lot of ice. Off in the far reaches I could see water, but only in the little bays and inlets around the edge. What I was most interested in was to see the pattern of the ice below. Indeed, as I had suspected, I could see patterns in the ice that matched the patterns I saw as it had formed 4½ months ago.

   Paddling back in the narrow band of water along the shore, I tapped on the ice here and there. The ice that still had a bit of slush on top gave no resistance to the paddle. Other places were so hard that my paddle could not break through. When I got to the area where the old ice met the new back in December, I paddled right into it.

   With just a little effort, I was able to move the canoe 50 metres into the ice pack. ‘Twas a lovely noise to hear that sparkly ice shatter and clink upon the canoe. I paused, pushed the ice chunks away, and peered deep into the water. Not much to see down there – just the bluish green of lake bottom.

   Sunday morning, half the bay was free of ice. Out in the distance, the rest of the lake ice shimmered in whiteness. But alas, a warm south wind blew through the day. By the middle of the afternoon it was all gone. That was yesterday.

   This morning there are ripples on the lake. The south wind just getting ready to blow through another day. The loons arrived! With a joyous yodel of homecoming, they mark the beginning of a new season at the lake.

Received April 23, 2007

The Nature of Ice



   We are into the last days of ice on the lake – perhaps. For many people, ice on the lakes is simply something pretty to look at from a distance in April. Certainly, only a very few people on our lake have ventured onto the ice in the past two weeks. I am one of them, of course. And Kate. Kate and I walk on the lake every day.

   Kate and I are students of the ice. We’ve made a measuring stick out of a ski pole and take it with us whenever we go for a walk. We use an ice chipper to poke a hole in the ice, stick the ski pole in and pull it up so the basket rests on the bottom of the ice. We then make notes of where the water hits a line on the pole. We put the holes in the same place every spring, and measure from the same hole every day.

   What determines how and when the ice melts each spring? This is our study question every year. We’ve learned that there are many factors that determine the date of break-up. Most important is the day-to-day weather in April. Other factors include the amount of snow we had over the winter, how long it took that snow to melt in March, how much rain there is and how much sun. A rather surprising thing we have learned is that the way the ice froze at the surface in the early winter has a huge influence on how the whole thickness of ice melts in spring.

   So far this year, we’ve had little snow, little rain, and not a whole lot of sun. The nights have generally been cold enough to balance the little bit of warmth of the days. As of last Monday, April 16, there had been no change in the ice thickness for nearly two weeks! The end of March was warmer than the past two weeks of April.

   The most observable changes occurred around the edges of the lake. A wide band of water appeared along the northeastern shore in late March. The water is shallow there, and it catches the afternoon sun. The ice along the shady shoreline by the sauna had softened, but it had not melted through.

   On April 6th, both night and daytime temperatures dropped below freezing. It stayed cold for the next week. The spring melt was brought to a standstill, and even reversed in some places. The water that had appeared near shore refroze, and we were once again able to walk from the lake to the land at the northeastern shore.

   Since then it has been warm enough to melt the shoreline ice again where it is shallow, and the sun shines upon it in the afternoon. Where the water is deeper, and where the shoreline is shaded by the forest, the ice is still strong enough for us to step from land to ice.

   How much longer will this be so? I sure don’t know. I’ve only been studying the ice for a couple of decades. We’ll have to take it one day at a time, making notes along the way.

Received April 16, 2007

Faith, Hope and Love

   The first week of April was a busy one for my daughter Kate. She turned 10 on April 2nd, she lost a baby tooth on the 4th, and of course, Easter on the 8th was a big day on her calendar. Kate, in her youth, has a lot to teach me. I, in my old age (OK, so I’m not that old) have a lot to learn from her. If only I can remember to pay attention.

   Kate has the perfect faith of childhood. She knows for certain that on her birthday, there will be a cake, candles, and presents. She knows that when she puts her tooth under her pillow, the Tooth Fairy will take it away, and give her a tooney in exchange (so long as there are no cavities in it – teeth with holes have no value). And Kate still believes in the Easter Bunny.

   Now, Kate is a very intelligent person. She reads a lot. She can teach you the difference between a moss and a lichen, she knows the trees of the forest, the plants that have symbiotic relationships with the trees, and what sort of habitat is likely to support her favourite fruit, the cranberry. She can solve Sudoku puzzles, put a worm on a hook and catch a fish, paddle a kayak and a canoe.

   She has a good understanding of cause and effect, she knows about seasons, seeds, and how we plant, tend and harvest the garden. She has a good understanding of life and death, and how the wild life of the forest depends on this cycle for the well being of all creatures. She wasn’t queasy about monitoring the slow melting out of the deer carcass from the lake ice, and probing into the cavity left behind as the wolves and ravens ate the body bit by bit. For her, these were simple lessons in anatomy.

   Kate marvels at the arrival of the spring birds - the juncos, snow buntings, robin and woodcock. Chickadees come to her hand to get sunflower seeds, and the grey jays come for breadcrumbs.

   She has a good understanding of how and why ice forms on the lake, and the progression of how it melts in spring. She knows how flowers are pollinated, and that without pollination; there will be no fruit. Everything has a process; cause and effect.

   So how can she still believe that a fairy comes to her room in the night to take her baby teeth away? How can she still believe that a little bunny carries chocolate eggs around?

   I know she has given thought to this. She explained it to me the other day. She figures there are lots of tiny bunnies that do the job. They are smaller than our native snowshoe hare, but their fur changes colour seasonally all the same. “What colour are they this year?” I asked, given that the snow all melted early. She told me they were part white and part brown, in the process of changing. The scientist in her is strong.

   But so is her faith strong. If a little bit of yellow dust can determine whether a flower will produce fruit, then why not fairies and Easter bunnies and flying reindeer? Children are filled with faith, hope and love. They have lessons for us old folks - - if only we take the time to listen with them.

Received April 9, 2007

Last Day in the Sugarbush



   Last Saturday was a perfect day for sugaring. The overnight temperature had dropped to –6. The day dawned sunny and the temperature rose to a bright +5. Ideal conditions to make the sap run!

   Kate and I arrived shortly after noon to find the jugs on the trees half full of sap. We quickly emptied a half dozen jugs into the carrying bucket, got the fire started, and filled the pans. Within 15 minutes, the sap began to boil!

   This has been an unusual spring in the sugarbush. All the snow (what little there was this year) had melted away. This made the job of collecting the sap, and carrying it to the boiler a lot easier. It also meant there was little moisture in the ground for the trees to pull in for their sap. Which in turn made the sap sweeter than average this spring! Yum!

   As Kate and I worked our way from tree to tree, we emptied each collecting jug into the buckets. Every so often, we would take a drink directly from the jugs. Mmmm! Some trees produced twice as much sap as others. Some trees were sweeter. Quite often, the most productive trees were also the sweetest! Yum!!!

   Once we collected the sap from all the trees, we sat by the fire and watched the steam roll away in the afternoon breeze. The sun shone brilliantly above. We admired the stark beauty of the bare branches against the vivid blue of the sky.

   Sad to say, but this was our last day in the sugarbush that has sweetened our lives for the past 24 years. We have decided to ‘retire’ from this labour of love. Making maple syrup is a lot of work - hard physical labour. Compounding our effort is the 2½ kilometre hike we have to make to get to the maples from our home. Twice a day, through snow and slush and mud and muck. Once we get to the bush it is beautiful! If only the trees were closer to home….

   At 6 pm, Kate and I made the last collecting round. We gathered another 10 litres, just enough to finish off in the boiler before the day was done. We pulled out the spiles, hugged each tree.

   As I gathered the last few drops from each tree, I gave thanks for all the years of sweetness. Our history is written on the bark of each tree in the little holes which dot their way in a spiral around the tree. Most of those holes have healed over into tiny scars, the oldest are barely perceptible. A few years from now, all the holes will be grown over.    It will be hard to tell we were ever there.

Received April 2, 2007

The Fawn, Part 2



   The frozen body of the fawn laid 90% buried in the ice for 6 weeks before anybody noticed. I wouldn’t have seen it at all had not the fox found it first. While skiing along the shoreline one day in early February, I saw a big hole in the snow with fox tracks all around.

   Abundant fluffy fur mixed with the snow. It appeared as though foxy had found himself a dinner. I skied over to have a close look. What sort of fur was it? It seemed soft enough to have been a hare. I pushed snow and fur away, looking for more clues.

   I found a body of some sort, mostly sunk into the ice under the snow. Something had died here weeks earlier while the ice was still forming. At the time, I couldn’t tell what it was, as only a rounded fur-covered portion remained above the ice. Poor Fox had scraped away lots of fur, but could not scrape any nourishment from the rock-hard frozen body.

   Over the next month, the fox came by every so often to have another try. A very large wolf that we have seen frequently this winter also checked out the frozen body several times between the middle of February and the middle of March. Each would scrape at the oval of flesh that broke the surface of the ice, but no one could get their teeth into it while the temperatures stayed so cold.

   Two weeks ago all that changed. We had a very warm spell that melted most of the snow from the lake. The body thawed enough for the scavengers to take hold. A feast!

   In no time at all, they had cleaned out the belly cavity. Most of the precious nutrients are found there. They were even able to rip the skin free of the fur - which remained well frozen into the surrounding ice. The contents from the stomach were strewn about on the snow – wintergreen leaves and lichens seemed to be all we could decipher.

   This shore-side buffet appealed to the fox, two wolves, and a whole bunch of ravens. Tracks were everywhere. Kate and I went out to have a look every couple of days.

   By now, clearly we knew this had been a young deer. We could look into the cavity in the ice. We saw the pelvic bone, and the hipbone. The legs and head stayed buried in the ice.

   Over the next few weeks, we watched as tracks from the wolves visited the carcass every day. Each day, more of the body thawed and disappeared. What was poor luck for the deer turned out to be a highly appreciated feast for the carnivores of the forest.

   And what of the doe I mentioned in last week’s article? Over the course of the winter, we found bits and pieces of her body strewn about the lake and the forest. A chunk of skin here, the tail over there along with shards of bone. We saw fur on the ice, and bits of fur in the forest. Her body provided abundant food for the others who live here in the wild.

Received March 26, 2007

The Fawn

   Last autumn was a good one for the doe and her fawn. The days were wet, but warm. Early December snows came and went. Access to food was easy. The pair wandered along the peninsula freely. Under the forest of pine and birch, they found lots of wintergreen leaves, mosses and lichens to fill their bellies. There was shelter from the wet weather in the depths of the spruce boughs, and the odd clear day to soak up the fading heat from the sun.

   By late December, ice had formed in the sheltered coves of the lake. Tentatively, they stepped on to this hard surface, and wandered along the shore. They found a little grove of cedar trees, and nibbled.

   The lake was quiet. Nearly all the people had gone away. Only a few remained, but they did not venture far from their dwellings. The deer caught the scent of a wolf now and then, and were cautious. With so little snow on the ground, they knew they could outrun the wolf, and the wolf knew this too, so did not give chase.

   The nights grew colder. More ice formed on the lake. A little snow came, then another warm spell. Then it got colder yet.

   They reached the northern tip of the peninsula, then turned south again. From high on a ridge, they could look down on the lake. They saw a bridge of ice crossing at a narrow point, from the peninsula to a large island on the lake. They decided to cross over to the island, to seek shelter in the cedars there.

   The doe stepped first onto the ice. The footing was secure because of the snow that had come. She looked all around, smelled the clear air, felt that all was secure. She moved out onto the lake. Her fawn followed. The ice was thick underfoot, at least until they cleared the little cove.

   The texture of the ice changed, but it seemed safe so they moved onward. Just before they reached the island, the ice gave way. Both of them scrambled to find a way back on to the ice surface, but each time they tried, the ice edge broke again.

   The doe nearly made it to shore. The water was shallow enough for her to stand, but exhaustion overcame her. She stumbled onto the rocks and lay down to die. Her fawn did not make it to shore, but died of hypothermia in the deep water.

   The next day brought the north wind. It broke up what remained of the ice bridge, and blew the floating body of the fawn a few kilometres down the lake. Along with the broken ice, the broken body of the little fawn froze in place just off shore when the wind died that night.

   This is not the end of the story. Stay tuned!

Received March 19, 2007

Sweet Maple



   The maple sap started to flow last Sunday!!! Mmmm! Such a wonderful gift we receive from the trees.

   What sort of a maple season will it be this year? After that dark and dismal autumn, the late arriving winter, the low snow depths, the very cold February days and nights… will the sap flow well? Will it be sweeter than it was last year? How long will the season last?

   Like many maple syrup producers, we tapped our trees a little earlier than usual this month. Allan, Kate and I skied up to the sugar bush one cold and sunny day in early March. I carried the drill and spiles in my pack, Allan carried a bundle of 2 dozen jugs on a strap on his back. Kate came along to give advice.

   We have been tapping these trees for nearly 25 years. We know them well – which give the most abundant sap, which trees are sweetest. The tricky part is finding a good spot to drill the little hole.

   Over the years we have found that the sap flows earliest from the taps on the south side of the trees. As the sun climbs ever higher in the sky, the south side of the trees warm up a couple of days earlier than the north side. Most of our historic holes are concentrated there.

   Yes, we hug the trees even as we search for the little scars from more than two decades of tapping. Last year’s holes are easy to see. The wood is now greyed and a little weathered. The holes from the year before have begun to close over. Holes five years old sport a vertical cat’s eye scar.

   The decade old holes are harder to find. The bark has fully grown over the hole, but with careful examination, we can still see where those holes were. As they heal with time, the older holes get fainter. Some of the oldest tap holes are only discernable by the rounded rim that remains on the oldest, outside rough bark on the oldest trees.

   Kate is very good at finding the old tap marks. And this is important, because we have to keep the new holes a few inches away from all the other holes to get the best flow of new sap.

   Kate helps choose the best spot, I set the drill in place. Boring at a slight upward tilt, I make a hole a couple of inches deep. The pale wood shavings drop into the snow at my feet. I remove the drill, Allan taps a spile into place, as hangs the jug.

   We ski from tree to tree, hugging each tree as we remember the sweet years past, searching for the best spot for the new tap, putting the hopes for a new sugar season in place.

Received March 12, 2007

March Changes

   March is a month of changes - - saving time, equinox, dark to light, winter to spring. Still subject to the arctic cold, but basking in the sun as it reaches ever higher in the sky.

   It is not unusual for March nights to drop into the deep –20’s. Or even –30 on occasion. It is also not unusual for the temperature to rise above freezing within a day or two of record cold nights. And if the temperature stays cold through the afternoon, you know it is going to be a sunny day. Find a spot out of the wind and in the sun, and you can take off your coat to soak up some solar energy. Mmmm – love that sun.

   Daylight Saving Time starts a few weeks earlier than usual this year – on March 11th. I think this is great! With the sun rising a few minutes earlier each morning, springing the clocks forward inspires us to take advantage of all that sunshine. Suddenly, we get an extra hour of daylight to play at the end the day. We can take the candlesticks off the table, as dinner will be served before sunset from now until October!

   The next great March event will be the solar equinox on the 21st. This marks the first quarter in the planet’s rotation around the sun. For the next three months, the sun will continue to rise a little earlier each day, and set a little later each evening. For the next six months, we’ll have more daylight hours than dark hours. Hooray! This is why so many of us love the month of March.

   Still, the first calendar day of spring is unlikely to be the last day of winter in Ontario. If you define winter as a time of snow and ice, we are looking forward to four to six more weeks. With the very late onset of ‘winter’ this year, we may well make up for it with skiing, skating and sledding well into the month of April.

   Let’s not forget that March is a time of transition – it is not going to be without snowstorms and winter’s cold. Snow on the north-facing shoreline will stay deep and cold – but on the south-facing shore the earth is already showing through. We can clear a skating path on the lake, and bring out a picnic lunch to enjoy the warmth if we find a spot in the lee of the wind.

   And when that next sudden snowstorm comes blowing through, we can stay tucked inside by the fire and peruse the seed catalogues. It’s March – the snow won’t last forever. It will soon be time to start the indoor seeds for summer gardens.

Received March 7, 2007

In the Light

   Have you noticed how much light there is these days? At the end of February, we had 11 hours of sun! Add in dawn and dusk, and we were looking at a sky with more light-hours than dark-hours. According to the almanac, we are gaining 3 or 4 minutes of sunlight each day. That may not sound like much, but in just a couple of weeks, on March 17th, we’ll see the sun rise and set a full 12 hours apart! Ahhh, I just love all that sun!

   Winter seems to be a long, dark time. The one mitigating factor to this darkness is the brilliance of the moon for a couple of weeks each month. For the past few years I’ve noticed that the moon has been rising higher in the sky in the sky in winter – just when we need the extra light! This year, the winter moon is as high as it ever gets. And the higher it goes in the sky, the more light we enjoy here down on the snowy ground.

   Last weekend, even the quarter-full moon was bright enough for walking and skiing through most of the evening. This coming weekend, the moon will be so full, and so bright, and so high in the sky that we could ski all night long! If we had that much energy…

   Keep watch of the moonrise over the next few days. On March 1st, it rises 2½ hours before sunset. On the 2nd, the moon rises 1¼ hours before the sun goes down. And on March 3rd, the moon rises in the east just before the sun sets in the west.

   March 3rd is the most interesting day to observe the moon this year. This is the day of the March full moon. The moon will be in an eclipse for most of the early evening. As it turns out, it might be difficult to see the moon rise on Saturday night – because it will already be eclipsed by the shadow of Earth.

   If we are lucky enough to have a clear sky at dusk, be sure to have a look at the eastern sky. Even in the deepest part of the eclipse, the moon will not totally disappear from the sky. It will be bathed in ‘Earthshine’ - the reflected light from Earth. Have your camera ready - it will surely be a beautiful sight.

   Do make a point of going out between 5 and 7 pm to see the best of the celestial show. Keeping in mind that by 10 pm, the moon will have fully emerged from the shadow – becoming its bright, beautiful self for the rest of the night.

   It is the return of light to the sky that makes March such a delightful month. The longer days and the brighter moon both contribute to beating the winter blues.

Received February 26, 2007

The Rink

   The skating rink is something we have rarely been able to keep open on the lake each winter. Due to the lack of snow, this year we’ve been able to skate almost all the time. With all the cold weather we’ve had the last month, skating is probably the most reasonable way to get out to enjoy this winter.

   I read with great interest Lionel Rudd’s article on the backyard rink a few weeks ago. The meticulous work required to set up a skating surface in the backyard is well worth the effort, as it would pay off for most of the winter. But what about using the natural ice of the lake? We could sure use some pointers for how to do that.

   Keeping an ice surface for skating on the lake has challenges that you don’t have in a backyard. The worst problem is slush. If it snows a lot, hairline cracks in the ice allow water to seep up from below and turn the snow to slush. Slush does not shovel well. We have to get the snow off the ice right away – or the rink could be lost. Sometimes it snows at night, so portions of the rink are ruined as the slush freezes in place before morning.

   Luckily for the skaters, there hasn’t been a lot of snow to mess up the rink. However, with the natural ice of the lake this has brought about different problems.

   The snow we do get is shovelled to the sides. It insulates the ice around the edges, so that ice does not get thicker. The exposed ice on the rink has been subject to the –20 days and nights we’ve had for weeks. It is getting a lot thicker. And it is cracking. The cracks get just wide enough to slip a skate blade into - - and then I go crashing down.

   The next problem is warping. The snow piled around the edges pushes down the ice, and the water seeps in from below. The snow piles get heavier, and sink just a bit more. After a couple of weeks, the ‘rink’ became a dome, and the cracks got even wider.

   So, we found another area of sort of smooth ice in the lee of an island. We shovelled 8 inches of snow away. After a couple of days of sun and cold, the surface smoothed itself beautifully! The skating is good again. For a while. So, I’m hoping Lionel Rudd (or a reader?) can give us some advice on keeping a natural ice surface in good shape for more than a few weeks. Bring on the zamboni?

Received February 19, 2007