Walk around the cranberry bogs of Cape Cod – cranberries.org says about 11,500 bogs in southeastern Massachusetts – in mid-winter, and it’s quiet. Desolate. Frigid. Filled with life.
Gypsy dog and I set out on a in-the-20s January day for a nearby bog. Gypsy is the size of a fox and is of the same color. Unlike a fox, Gypsy is not sly. She romps around my feet as we trod the bog, ever alert for I know not what. Ears up, tail up, nose down, she smells smells I’ll never know.
I’m what’s called bundled up – woolen cap and scarf, quilted fake-fur-lined coat, fake fur-lined boots and mittens. Eyes start to water. Nose begins a run. Ears tingle. How wonderful it is even though arthritic knees buckle if I walk too fast. Heels first, always heels first, says the P.T. person, to whom I obey.
It’s quiet until it’s windy. The wind does what wind does - blows things around the bog. A bough of scrub pine breaks and blocks a path. An oak branch cracks like a creaking door. Its leaves still cling to branches when it falls.
What’s going on underground is growth. It’s busy down there. Cranberries are growing on unseen vines below the frozen ground. Some of what lives underground cranberries don’t want to associate with – pests. Sandbagging buries pests such as weed seeds, fungal spores, insect eggs. Sandbagging is an ecological way of getting rid of living things that deter cranberry growth. No artificial fertilizers needed. No chemical pesticides needed. Sandbagging is what’s called environmentally friendly. Growers apply a layer of sand over their bog. That’s it.
There are coyotes out here. I’ve seen them race by far ahead across the frozen bog. I hear birds, see a male cardinal at a feeder in a yard adjacent to the bog, always squirrels about. The wind causes the collar of my coat to make a sound like the closing of my fridge – a kind of squeezy, squishy sound. I’m wary of what’s underfoot. Some dog walkers are careless, others are oblivious of their dogs’ discards. I find the bags in my coat pockets. So far, Gypsy has not deposited anything except mild amounts of spit. But I will pick up and take home and not throw into trees.
It’s a long way until next Thanksgiving when cranberries become fashionable again. The fresh packages have disappeared from produce aisles. But we can still buy frozen and canned berries, and always with the canned goods are the cans of jellied cranberry sauce and juices. As for the juices, some are called cocktails, which I learned means they are not pure cranberry juice. Others are cranberry juice mixed with grape or cranberry juices.
Cranberries come in dietary supplements advertised to “support gut health and “help neutralize free radicals in the body.” I suppose these claims are fine if you have an unhealthy gut or need to free your body of radicals, whatever they are. I’m skeptical.
One of the most refreshing alcoholic drinks known hereabouts as a Cape Codder combines cranberry juice with vodka – your choice as to what amount each. Fill a goblet with ice, pour liquids into it, garnish with a slice of lime. Sit with goblet in front of fireplace with flames glowing and think spring. That’s when a walk in a cranberry bog will not freeze your nose. But it won’t be as refreshing.
