I have used the symbolism of closing a circle of research several times in my blogs. Since Song of Jaybird has been published, I have appeared at events and considered the years of researching and writing. Thus, I have once again experienced the completeness of closing another circle, watching the demonstration of pine gum distillation.
My husband and I eagerly marked our calendars for Saturday, April 6th, when we would be in Tifton, Georgia, at the FolkLife festival on the grounds of the Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College’s Georgia Museum of Agriculture (ABACGMA). Polly Huff, the ABACGMA curator, graciously added the Song of Jaybird book signing event to the scheduled activities, heightening our anticipation.
She provided the perfect set-up for us in front of the Knight Cabin, next to the still. In the morning, the brick beehive furnace was fired. The resin collected from a local six-generation timber family was used for the demonstration.
The still was managed by volunteers, keeping the history of turpentine alive. People also visited the various demonstrations in the cooper shed, sawmill, and blacksmith—the commissary and other 19th-century businesses with weaving, quilting, and making rosin potatoes.
By 2:30 in the afternoon, a significant transformation had occurred. Water and turpentine had been collected in another barrel while the gum continued to cook. Suddenly, thick black smoke billowed from the brick chimney, indicating that the rosin was ready to be discharged. The hot liquid rushed out of the door, steaming into three filtering screens, each serving a specific purpose in the distillation process.
The first screen pulled pinecones from the mix and dumped them on the ground, steaming. The smaller particles, known as dross, were tipped out of the second, and then small buckets were dipped into the hot liquid and put into barrels. The smell from the discharge smelled of strong pine, which I breathed in deeply.
Watching volunteers work together, I thought about my fictional characters and the jobs I described of them working in Song of Jaybird. I couldn’t imagine doing that job every day in the heat of summer.
Afterward, the water barrel next to the still had a layer of steam rising, calling to mind Song of Jaybird’s chapter “Bugs.”
“For days, Stan was in and out of delirium as he teetered on edge between life and death. One afternoon, she put him in the cooling tank at the still. After a day of brewing, the tank was hot, she thought it might help. She got in first, and her skirt billowed like a giant bubble floating on the surface. “I’m ready! Send ‘im down.” Liz called to the twins. She gripped the ladder and guided his legs as they lowered him with a rope tied around his chest and under his arms. “We’re gonna boil this malary out of ya. Because ya ain’t leavin’ me now!” She held her arms around the ladder while Stan rested his head on her shoulder.”
Another circle of research closed.
https://gma.abac.edu/
