The LDMSPA Tapping Out Party

That's where we spent part of our afternoon (see above photo): at the LDMSPA (which stands for Lanark District Maple Something or Other) Tapping Out Party. That's when they tap the sugar maples in order to catch the sap and make maple syrup. Of course, it's too cold for much sap to run yet this year, but schedules are schedules, and the show must go on.

As soon as we approached by foot up the driveway, we heard music: a delightful group of musicians, including a fiddler. You really want to have a fiddler around these parts if you possibly can. The Ottawa Valley, or just The Valley, locally, is known for that. As you can see in the photo below, onlookers could sit on planks supported by bales of hay. Quite wonderful. That's the sugar shack on the left.

We next chanced upon a little area where these two homespun comedians held sway. They had all sorts of funny little items, mostly for kids, that I won't elaborate on here, and they were both quite besotted with the lovely Cuppa. In the photo above, she is pretending to carry two buckets of sap, the way they used to do it. (They have plastic piping running through the bush these days.) The guy on the left seized every comedic opportunity to hug Cuppa. It got a little much after a while, but we were both good sports about it.

They used to boil the sap in kettles like the one below. It would hang from a tripod of three wooden beams. It would take about two days for them to make syrup from the sap, and they would only get about one gallon of syrup from ten gallons of sap. Now they can do the same thing with greater quantity in about an hour.

A closeup (above) of the guy who really took a shine to Cuppa. Too old to do much harm, I figure. Besides the mighty and rugged Anvilcloud was close at hand to protect his woman's honour if need be.

Then, we went on a sleigh ride, pulled by the two Belgians. I have never been on a sleigh before, several wagon rides but no sleigh rides. These two creatures effortlessly pulled the sleigh and it's dozen or so riders uphill in sticky snow with amazing ease. Too bad Cuppa didn't have an apple (below).

That's the synopsis of our afternoon of getting in touch with the rural parts of our rural county. Quite a treat really!

 

Mutual Adoration

Should I be jealous?

A Conversation ...

... between two adults fast approaching sixty although it sounds like they should be closer to ninety.

 

Cuppa: I wonder where that stone house of Fran's is? Can you place a house by a bridge? What bridge is it do you think?

AC: Huh? Who's Fran?

Cuppa: She's the woman we were talking to at the dance.

AC: I thought her name was Doreen?

Cuppa: No, the other one, the one at the door: Fran.

AC: Fran?

Cuppa: The one with the stone house by a bridge. Can you place where it is?

AC: Fran?

Cuppa: You know, the gray-haired lady we were talking to at the door?

AC: Oh, that's Fran? She's Gerald's woman.

Cuppa: Oh, is that who he is? I don't remember names very well.

AC: You remembered hers.

Cuppa: Who's?

AC: Fran's!!

Cuppa: Who? Who's Trends?

AC: Fran, you silly, the one we were just talking about.

Cue the laugh track and enjoy the release of many endorphins.

AC: We'll have to drive by.

Cuppa: Where?

AC: The bridge.

Cuppa: Why?

AC: To see if we can find Fran's house!!

An even greater, right from the gut, deep and wonderful laughter and the release of gazillions of jolly endorphins.

 

Sweet Potato Soup Recipe

Granny has requested the soup recipe that I mentioned a few blogs back: the one that I scalded myself with and the one to which I added part of my own precious flesh. I have made this a number of times, and it's always a tasty hit. I found the recipe in Crazy Plates by Janet and Greta Podleski (of Ottawa, I might add proudly). I have taken to doubling the recipe since it's so good and it doesn't require much more work.

1. Mix the following ingredients and roast at 425°F for 25 minutes, stirring once halfway through:


• 6 cups cubed sweet potatoes, 1.5 cups coarsely chopped onions, 1 tbsp olive oil, 1 clove garlic minced


2. Transfer to a soup pot; add the following ingredients; bring to boil and then simmer,covered for 10 minutes.


• 5 cups low fat chicken broth, 1 tbsp each grated orange zest and gingerroot, 1 clove, 1/2 tsp each garlic and salt, 1/4 tsp black pepper


3. Puree batches with blender or food processor.


4. Serve with a swirl of sour cream (low fat) and garnish with fresh cilantro if desired. (I usually do the sour cream but have never used cilantro)

 

Giving a Hoot

You may recall me mentioning that we spotted a bobcat on our first evening at Riverwood. Except for the usual birds — mostly chickadees — that was the extent of our sightings until our penultimate day at the cottage.

While snowshoeing in the woods behind Pinefort Knoll, Cuppa caught a glimpse of something in the treetops — the owl in the photo — but I'll bet you devilishly clever, little bloggers figured that out already. I didn't have my camera or its zoom lens, but Cuppa got this picture with her little but rather wonderful camera. The owl sat there staring quizzically at us for a minute or so, periodically rotating his head — investigating sounds no doubt. In fact, he soon glided off in the direction that he appeared to be monitoring.

Although it's rather hard to estimate the size of an owl in the treetops, we agree that, to us, he seemed to be about two feet tall if we were to count his tail feathers, which only seems to make sense after all.

Life is perplexing. How does a solitary owl get out there in the woods? How the heck do they get together and mate when they seem to be so solitary? How and where do two two-foot owls have sex? How do they go about raising little hooters (so to speak)?

I'm not really keen enough to research owls right now. It gives me more pleasure to wonder about such questions.

 

Mel, Butterfly, My Mother and ...

Shrove Tuesday, Pancake Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, and Mardi Gras

It was when I was reading Mel's, It Was Just Tuesday a Second Ago, this morning that I was reminded to look up shrove as in Shrove Tuesday. Like Mel, I was brought up Pentecostal and am, therefore, not steeped in liturgical traditions such as Lent. In fact, I had forgotten that yesterday was Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Tuesday, until my daughter, Butterfly, invited us over for a pancake supper.

It was on the way over to her house that I cogitated about the meaning of shrove. In my reading of fiction based on Old England, I recalled coming across shriven. The context seemed to have something to do with confession and forgiveness. I deduced that shrove must be the past tense of to shrive. I resolved to look it up on the net but forgot until I read Mel's blog.

Well, oddly enough, Wikipedia confirmed my suspicions. (It is odd for me to be correct.) Shrove is the past tense of shrive, and it does have to do with people confessing and being absolved of their sins. In the case of Shrove Tuesday, it was in preparation for Lent.

For some reason the appellation, Shrove Tuesday, sticks in my mind, but to Cuppa, Pancake Tuesday, is the more common name. To my French SIL, Mardi Gras is the name. I never realized before discussing it with the kids last night how appropriate Mardi Gras is, for it literally means Fat Tuesday in French.

Why Fat Tuesday, you ask? Because, according to Wikipedia, on the last day before Lent, people, in an attempt not to have food go bad during the restrictive Lenten period, would eat up all sorts of perishable food that could not be consumed during Lent.

Why Pancake Tuesday, you ask? Because, according to Wikipedia, two such perishable food items were milk and eggs, two prime ingredients of pancakes. In fact, somewhere I think I read (but I can't find it again) that recipes for pancakes appeared in as early as the fifteenth century.

Where does my mother (see title), fit into this? Tangentially really, but according to Wikipedia again: "In the Canadian province of Newfoundland, household objects are baked into the pancakes and served to family members. Rings, thimbles, thread, coins, and other objects all have meanings associated with them. The lucky one to find coins in their pancake will be rich ..."

Perhaps that is where my mother's birthday cake tradition originated, for she would wrap coins in tin foil and insert them into birthday cakes. I have never known anyone else in the world to do this, but I now surmise that someone in our line of forebears adapted the tradition from inserting coins and other items into the Shrove Tuesday pancakes.

There is also some interesting information about Shrove Tuesday and some of the traditions on the religions part of BBC site.

The First of March

This is how much snow we have at the front of the house on March the First. If we were back in Sarnia, we would be seeing grass, would have been seeing grass for most of the winter. It's not that it's always that way there, but it has been this winter; our friends have even been out cycling a few times.

Here, near the capital, we are in the same province and more east of Sarnia than north although we are somewhat north — less than two hundred miles though. But what a difference location makes. According to reports, and I believe them, this has been a milder winter than average. On top of that, we've experienced numerous melting rains. Yet we've had enough of a snow base to maintain a total snow cover for more than two months now, and the end is not in sight.

Don't get me wrong. I don't dislike winter, but, come March, I am ready to move on. I'm ready, but the weather man sure isn't.

Oh, and don't worry about poor Cuppa, who appears to be shovelling snow. She's just posing, faking it as it were. I resist further comment.