Last week, I wrote about the many flows of the month of February: the flowing of the springs from the hillside, the flowing of the river, the flowing of deep emotions, and the flowing of the sap from the trees. Today, I wanted to delve more deeply into the nature of the flow of the trees, as part of my “Druid tree workings” series, a series that focuses on deep magical and spiritual work you can do directly with trees in your ecosystem. Earlier posts in this series include: finding the face of the tree, druid tree workings on the outer planes, druid tree workings on the inner planes, helping tree spirits pass, winter tree blessings, a seasonal approach and the breath of the earth, establishing deep tree workings and working with trees in urban settings. The whole goal of this series is to develop deep spiritual and magical connections with trees in a variety of ways. To me, connecting to trees is a year-long process, but the nature of that work changes as the seasons flow. Today’s post explores a timely topic for anyone here in the temperate parts of North America: the flowing of maples and the magic of that flow.
Sap and Flow
In the late winter, sometime in and into March (and April in some years depending on the weather), the sap begins to flow in many trees. Most trees have some kind of sap, but the sap we are talking about today is that which flows from maples and her close cousins (walnut, birch, sycamore, hickory). Sap is literally the lifeblood of the tree. All plants, including trees, have two kinds of tissues that transport nutrients: the xylem (which is a kind of vascular tissue in the inner bark of a tree that provides upward movement) and phloem (a second vascular tissue that transports nutrients from leaves to the rest of the tree). This exchange system allows the tree to move, store, and release nutrients in different parts of the year. The xylem and phloem system is conceptually similar to the human body, which uses the blood vessels (veins and arteries) to transport oxygen and nutrients.
In the early spring, the tree begins to prepare for the coming season and starts converting starches into sugars. These starches were stored by the tree the previous summer and fall in the root system, and remain quietly present in the roots all winter long. In preparation for budding, the sweet sap moves up from the roots by way of the xylem and into the trunk and branches of the tree. The science of how the sap flows is actually under debate, but regardless of scientific debate, there is no denying the incredible magic as the sap begins to flow. Due to the particular nature of Maple and similar trees a strong flowing of sap occurs in late Feb and early March when the temperatures are below freezing during the night and above freezing during the day. This sap ceases flowing when the trees bud in the spring–the sap having completed its work to spark the new life of the coming season.
Tree Sap, Nywfre, and the Telluric Current
While the science and health benefits are certainly of interest, just as important to focus of today are the esoteric qualities and magic of this process. To this, we can turn to two concepts from the Druid Revival tradition, both of which I’ve written about on this blog in various ways before. The first is the concept of Nywfre (noo -IV-rah), which is considered in the druid tradition as the energy of the life force. That is, it is the spark of life, the vitality that creates life, the energy that flows so life can happen. Other traditions have other names for this such as qi, chi, prana, ankh, and so on. In fact, Western civilization is one of likely very few who doesn’t have an actual term for this power (although the popular term “force” from Star Wars is perhaps most fitting).
The second concept that is of relevance to the magic of the flowing of the maples is the framework of the three currents through which energy flows through the land within and without: the telluric, solar, and lunar currents. The telluric current is tied to earth energies, and, as my earlier post describes, is the current of energy of the deep earth. The telluric energy wells up from the core of the earth and outward into every living being–through roots and plants, through sacred wells and springs, through hot pools, and so forth.
It is not hard to put the esoteric philosophy together with the physical reality of the sap flowing in the spring. The early spring sap is–literally–full of the vitalizing life force of nywfre, rising up from the deep earth via the telluric pathways. This sap is what allows the buds in the spring to grow, what sparks them to life. This sap is vitalizing, refreshing, healing, and incredibly rich in telluric energy from the living earth.
And likewise, unsurprisingly, drinking the sap as a beverage, or, using fire and ice to transform the sap into a syrup, can allow one to deeply commune with the maple tree and offer revitalization and strength. This sweet sap of sugar maple has about 2% sugar content but also a host of vital nutrients and minerals including 46 nutrients, minerals, amino acids, and phytonutrients–all of considerable benefit to human health. While few of us have drank the sap straight from the tree unless you have tapped trees (or have friends who have tapped trees), many of us have probably enjoyed the maple syrup that comes from the process of boiling down fresh sap into a shelf-stable syrup that can last for many years. In my opinion, there are few things more vitalizing or refreshing as drinking this magical sap straight from the tree, and fewer powerful ways to commune with the trees in this regard.
Relationship and Magic
Humans have been tapping maple trees for millennia; a small tap in a healthy tree will quickly heal over and cause no long-term damage to the trees. In places in New England, people have been tapping the same “sugarbush” of trees for over a century and a half. Still, in order to really tap the flow of sap–literally and figuratively–I think its important to recognize that you and the trees are always in a relationship. Walking up to your nearest maple with a 5/8″ drill bit, drilling in a hole, plugging the hole with a spile, and taking the sap without asking is, in my opinion, an exploitative practice. I believe if we are to work the magic of this sacred time of year as a druid tree working, we need to be in reverence and connection with the trees. And that begins with gratitude and respect.
My own Imbolc tradition, tied to my own ecoregional wheel of the year, is deeply tied to the flowing of maples and the honoring of these trees. Typically, I work to determine the first potential day that the sap may be flowing. For me, this most often gets folded into my personal Imbolc celebration as the weather is starting to warm right around that time period. As Imbolc was traditionally a time of lactating ewes, to me, Imbolc happens when the maple begins to run. A good warm day, with the sun, where the temperature is at least above 40 for the first time, is when I will go out.
As it was my first year tapping trees on this land, and as this land has been damaged, I took considerable care in approaching the topic with the Maples who were on the land. Thankfully, six of them allowed me to tap them, and I honored each of them with a home-grown tobacco offering, panflute music, and my own energy in return for them accepting a tap. In addition to my own work, a group of friends also did wassailing for the largest of the maple trees at the late January supermoon just as the trees were beginning to run. After we wassailed the tree, each of us drank of the sap (which I had warmed and brought out in a thermos due to the cold) and then went on silent walking meditation on the land till retreating to the warm house to enjoy a potluck meal.
Every year since I began learning about tapping trees (so about 8 years ago now), I have worked to keep this tradition alive. Even when I lived in a rental house, I managed to keep this tradition going by tapping three trees in my yard and boiling off the sap on an electric burner on my porch. I’ve also tapped a single tree in a friend’s yard so I could still enjoy some of the sap. I wrote about the process a few years ago, when I was still living in Michigan, and my friends and I setup a regular yearly sugarbush.
Even if all that you do is drink some sap straight from the tree, you will gain much in the way of benefit–an energy exchange with the tree and a revitalizing opportunity to deeply commune. However, if you decide to boil the sap down, you can also experience the transformative power of alchemy. Of course, the Sugar Maple (who also has the name of “Fire maple” in the Appalachian Mountains) would know much about alchemical processes.
The process of transforming sap into sugar is two-fold. When the sap is dripping from the tree, and then is sitting in a bucket or storage bin overnight, it often becomes partially frozen due to the rise and fall of temperatures. The Native Americans found that if you removed the ice, it concentrated the sugars and minerals in the remaining liquid. Allowing the sap to freeze down by half reduces the boiling time as there is less water to remove. So, it is a wise idea to pull out all the ice from the buckets. The winter itself, the freezing, allows this process to take place.
The second part of the process, which I detailed on this blog some years before (and linked above), is boiling the sap down using heat and flame. This, too, is alchemical in nature–through the application of fire, we transform the maple from almost pure water to one of the greatest delicacies known to humanity. The use of an actual wood fire, which is done only by hobbyists (and never the bigger industries) creates a maple syrup with a delightful hint of smoke that is truly one of my favorite things to enjoy. If you have purchased maple syrup commercially, you would likely not have tasted this wood-fired syrup.
Last weekend, some permaculture friends and I did our first big boil this year. We researched and built a simple boiling unit using concrete bricks and used restaurant pans as our boiling pans. We started with 25 or so gallons of maple sap and 5 gallons of walnut sap. We boiled the sap all day, even as the snow started to come down. We boiled the walnut down separately–it still tasted (surprisingly) similar to maple but with a hint of deep walnut flavor at the end–so delicious!
As I wrote this post, I am sitting here near my stove, drinking fresh sap from the trees and keeping an eye on result of our sugaring from the day before. The rich scent of wood-fired maple syrup permeates the air. I think about how much vital energy–nywfre–is now concentrated in a single drop of this incredible syrup. When I am feeling depleted or run down, even the smallest spoonful of this will offer a tremendous benefit. If you have a chance to tap even one maple tree, and the tree gives you permission, I would suggest trying to do so and enjoying the rich rewards that the flowing of the sap offers.
Even if you cannot tap a tree, spending time with maple on a warm day when the sap is flowing will transfer some of this nywfre and telluric energy to you. You can stand with your body against the tree (like you are giving her a hug) where the sun hits the tree (and the sap flows most strongly). Spend time here, and feel the flow of the nywfre up the tree. Sense that same nywfre flowing up from your own feet and through you, revitalizing you. Doing this often, on each warm late winter day, will provide tremendous benefit.
American Tree Magic
As an American druid, I am always looking for ways that we might adapt our druidry to the ecology present on our landscape and tie to the magic inherent in our specific lands. Sugar maple is, of course, native to North America and grows in a fairly limited geographical region spanning parts of the Eastern USA and Eastern and southern parts of Canada. To me, the maple is one of the most magical trees in our landscape: she is abundant and easy to find, she is honored by many (including many who are not druids) and she is so giving of what gifts she has to offer. Her lifeblood can sustain us through difficult times, and likewise, we can tend her and keep her forests in good health. She is a tree tied to the early spring and seems to be in her greatest power as the snow and ice yet permeate the land (tied to the “ice” part of the alchemical process of reducing sap) and to the mid-fall (tied to her “fire maple” nature). And where maple doesn’t grow, you may find one of the other healing sap-producing trees: sycamore (a type of maple), another variety of maple, birch, hickory, or walnut. All produce a delightful sap that you can drink fresh or boil down into syrup. And certainly, most would be willing for you to sit and enjoy them on a warm day!
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When I was 9 years old I went to the McKenzie Educational Center to learn about the history of Maple Sap in Wisconsin. We took home a tap made from native trees similar to the ones the First Nations in the area would use. My father and I then took up tapping out maples every year. We had one sugar maple (which never gave much sap) and two Norway Maples (that were so very generous!). This tradition became a sweet consolation as we switched from my beloved Winter to Mud Season.
I love how you brought Druidry into this beautiful tradition and process. I’ve never been able to verbalize quite how magical the process is in the beautiful way you have here!
Danni, thank you so much for reading and for your comment. The whole thing just struck me last weekend when we were doing sugaring how magical it really was! And winter to mud season sounds about right 🙂
Wonderful post! I’m on the West Coast of British Columbia and we can tap Big Leaf Maples, although the sap is not as tasty as that which I grew up with in Ontario, and not every year, as we don’t always have the freezing temperatures needed to “sweeten” the sap. We have to commune deeply with our trees, as BL Maples can be unpredictable in terms of dropping branches, so my husband and I accord them a LOT of respect. On another note, I wonder how/why vegans eschew honey consumption (and the working partnership between bees and humans is one of the oldest relationships there is) for maple syrup — certainly an exploitation of what I would argue are sentient creatures, even if they aren’t mobile or expressive (unless you engage in sympathetic communication). Thanks again for such an informative post.
Deborah, thanks for sharing the info on Big Leaf Maples! That’s exciting to know that there is also a West Coast/British Colombia equivalent. Sycamores also flow, and they grow in many more diverse places than just here where the sugar maples grow.
And yes, that does open up a whole can of worms….I don’t understand the honey issue, except to say, maybe those folks haven’t kept bees? Its no different to me than tending plants and watching seedlings grow.
Thanks for reading and your comments!
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