Northfield resident Bill Copeland’s gentle manner and southern-accented speech belie a spirit filled with passionate regard for our planet and the beings who inhabit it. Many local families are grateful for the tender care the retired pediatrician provided for over three decades to local youngsters; folks who’ve tasted the results of his cider-making projects can attest to the quality of his homemade beverages. Copeland’s creativity and generosity don’t stop at those two categories: he’s involved in land management, vernal pool protection, sculpting, and mentoring young people in scientific realms, among other pursuits.

The native North Carolinian moved to our area in 1989 with his wife, Christine, a visual artist and author of children’s books; area knitters may also know her as the former purveyor of yarn. Years ago, Christine’s involvement with an advocacy group called New England Apple was one reason her husband gravitated toward the versatile fruit.

Christine Copeland says that the topic of apples is just “one of many in which our lives are like two streams coming together and flowing. Bill and I met in our late 30s, and our lives have aligned in so many ways.” I hope to interview Christine Copeland for a separate column before too long, dear readers, because we deserve fascinating glimpses into her globe-trotting upbringing, artistic talents, and beautiful perspectives on life.

Early in their marriage, the Copelands lived in the Sonoran Desert while Dr. Copeland served as the only pediatrician in the entire Arizona-based reservation populated by members of the TohonoO’odham tribe; he cared for patients living in an area about the size of Connecticut. (TohonoO’odham means people of the desert.) While expecting their first child, Will, the couple moved to Franklin County after Bill Copeland was recruited to replace Bill Buchanan, the much-loved doctor who served families for decades. The second Copeland son, Lucian, was also born here.

Moving to western Mass meant transplanting to an apple mecca. “I found many varieties not available in supermarkets throughout most of the country,” said Bill Copeland. “As a kid, I liked when I could get my hands on a Granny Smith, because it was different from the one or two varieties we’d usually get. But up here, we have Pippins, Winesaps, Black Oxfords, Redfields, Arkansas blacks, Golden russets, and many other heirloom varieties that’ve been around for centuries.”

At home, the Copelands have nearly a dozen apple trees, and Bill has pressed his own cider. These days, however, he obtains cider from Pine Hill Orchards in Shelburne, and looks forward to the annual Cider Days festival. “This year, I arrived before opening time, and was still about the 12th person in line. Every year, they sell out quickly.” Pine Hill dispenses their cider from 600- and 800-gallon tanks; Copeland purchases about 12 gallons, but noted, “Some people come for 50 gallons or more. It’s impressive.”

Copeland’s foray into fermenting beverages came when helping a friend make beer. “I’ve never made beer on my own, though,” he said. “Cider is easier, so I decided to try that.” Cider hardens naturally due to yeast populations. Copeland and other locals produce beverages of their choice by regulating fermentation speed and extent. Temperature plays a key role, but there are other factors, too. “(Cidermaking) doesn’t require much time or space,” said Copeland, “but you really have to keep an eye on the temperature.” Apple variety choices also greatly influence resulting flavor.

“People who enjoy hard cider lean toward bitter, sharp, or acidic apples, rather than, say, Macs or Cortlands,” said Copeland, adding that “good cider apples don’t necessarily make good eating apples. A Mac is neither bitter nor sharp; something like a winesap is sharper. A crabapple is bitter, but can lend a wonderful flavor to cider. But all apples are a bit sweet, and the sugars are what makes [cider] ferment. That, and the yeasts found on the skin.” Copeland explained that wild yeast affects cider similarly to what occurs in making sourdough bread.

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Copeland ferments cider in gallon jugs or 5.5-gallon buckets. The process must exclude oxygen, and “all vessels must be squeaky clean. Even under those conditions, there might be a bit of mold at the end of the process, but you can just scoop it off and decant the cider,” said Copeland. “Native yeast – the bloom on the outside of the apple – starts to multiply at 56 degrees, and as its numbers exponentially rise, the metabolic by-products of fermentation come into play and rise in tiny bubbles to the top of the mixture.”

Within a sealed vessel, cider builds pressure that must be released. Copeland uses buckets with airlocks so the CO2 can escape. “Gas escapes through a water seal with a float. As gas presses on the float, a bubble escapes and the float goes back down.” Monitoring the rate of bubbles helps determine when to end the process. “After a while, the substrate, the sugars, is used up and the alcohol content increases,” said Copeland. The ideal point at which to take the cider out of the bucket is “when it still has enough sweetness to drive a small amount of process inside the bottle. You don’t want it foaming over like champagne. If you bottle too early, it’ll be under so much pressure, it’ll shoot out (when you open it).” Bottling too late, however, leads to insufficient carbonation.

In the Copeland household, one finds effervescence in bottles, as well as in the people. It would require book-length space to fully explore the family’s admirable practices of gardening, composting, land stewardship, mentoring young people, and connecting with community members. Suffice it to say: here’s a clan we can really raise a glass to!

Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope.” Contact her at eveline@amandlachorus.org.