In Praise of the Mighty Sugar Maple

I spent part of this past Wednesday afternoon tramping about Mt. Auburn Cemetery with Cedric. Mt. Auburn is one of my favorite places on the planet, and will surely be a future topic of mine. But this entry is for something more specific. Cedric and I started our outing by climbing the tower. We took in the view of Boston, Cambridge and the Charles on a spectacular fall day with the foliage well past peak, but still vibrant. Then we went in search of a hidden letterbox. More on that some other time, too.

After finding the cache we took a leisurely stroll to Willow Pond, admiring the blazing sugar maples along the way. By now Cedric and Isabelle are pretty good at picking out sugar maples because I can't help but point them out whenever we are on a walk or drive during which we see them. Now I know what you're thinking. Sure, Eric loves sugar maples because of his thing for pancakes. Well, that's an undeniable part of it. Maple syrup is a miracle of nature and I sing its praises often. I have many times remarked to Vanessa that in my retirement (if not before) I should become a REAL maple syrup evangelist, or at least an agent for some association of maple syrup producers. I just find it pointless to order any sort of pancake or waffle that is served with fake maple flavored product. And I want to go door to door, restaurant to restaurant, to convert the unenlightened that it is well worth the 50 cents per serving to eat the real thing. Just one mouthful of a proper pancake with fresh butter and maple syrup will do the trick. But back to the maple tree, which is what I am celebrating today. If the maple tree were an ugly shrub, the maple syrup would be enough to earn praise. As we say on Passover, "Dayenu" -- it would be enough.

But no, the maple tree offers so much more. The next most obvious feature to the casual observer is the dazzling fall foliage of Acer Saccharum. It is the king of fall foliage in the northeast. It offers the richest scarlets and oranges . The luminosity is remarkable. Sometimes, on a cloudy day it appears as if a sugar maple is lit from within, as if all the sunlight it captured during the summer is being radiated out before the leaves drop. Stumbling across a single sugar maple in peak foliage can instantly bring me out of whatever mundane thoughts I might be absorbed in, bringing me immediately into The Moment. That's powerful stuff. Dayenu!

A less-noticed feature of the sugar maple is its physical structure. The tree has a sturdy trunk that rises several feet before branching off. This lower portion of the trunk isn't the regular-shaped cylinder of an oak. Rather, it is a little sloppy, tapering from the roots, then straightening for a bit, then widening again. It isn't perfectly round, either. It has character. This character is enhanced by its shaggy, sometimes peeling bark. It looks weathered. It's an experienced-looking tree.

In a protected location, the sugar maple may take on a symmetrical shape. But in a more exposed location, an older sugar maple is likely to show the effects of its share of nor'easters. There may be broken branches and gnarled limbs, and the tree may well be lopsided. In short, a sugar maple seems to express an individuality that invites anthropomorphization.
In short, the sugar maple is a wonder to behold and I feel lucky to live here in New England so that I can enjoy its aesthetic and gustatory bounty year-round. Dayenu!