Sumac lemonade tastes as sun-baked as the waning of September, as sour as the first apples. The rains have washed away most of the flavor, seeping it down the fuzzy branches and into the silty dark soil below. However, enough still remains as long as memories of August, and enough is enough for sumac lemonade. My little sister Lauren and I dashed out of the car on a sunny morning on Goat Mountain, stumbling into a sumac tree with its spiraled bright red crowns playing queen of the forest. Most were out of reach, but Lauren managed to knock down a few crowns with a stick and the ones we tasted, while they felt like eating lemondrops off of a carpet, still were nice and tart. We knocked down and harvested about 4-5, sorted the brown seeds out, and left the red ones to seep into a bowl of water like the rain washing down the sumac of summer right into the topsoil and forever. Sweetened up the next morning with a bit of honey and it turned out wonderfully tart, a welcome drink to sip on and think of October to come.
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