In Which The Symbol Of Our Love Is A Pain In The Rear

With the help of a good friend, we moved the last of the stuff out of the old apartment today.  One of the last things to go was a potted Japanese maple I had sitting outside on the porch of the apartment. 

When we first moved to this area three years ago, Jeremy and I bought this maple-- then a slender foot-high sapling-- as our first purchase together.  I was feeling sentimental at the time and thought that we needed some sort of growing thing as a "symbol of our love" or some such idea.  Jeremy went along with me because he is a smart man and realizes that whenever I start uttering flowery phrases such as "symbol of our love" he should agree to everything I say or he will be in big trouble.  So I planted the maple tree in a half barrel and it sat in our backyard for the next two years, until we moved to Puyallup.

I made the guys (Jeremy and the same long-suffering friend) move the maple tree to the porch of the apartment.  Jeremy wanted to leave it behind because the tree, which had been relatively light when we brought it home, was now slightly heavier due to the fact that it was planted in a wine barrel and thus had the added weight of about three hundred pounds of dirt. 

"But it's the symbol of our love," I wailed as the boys attempted to sneak the truck down the driveway without it. 

They had to use a dolly, but they managed to get it onto the truck.

Fast forward to this afternoon.  The tree, happy in the sunlight that the porch offered, was now substantially taller and thus, heavier.  It was also pouring, so that the three hundred pounds of dirt in the barrel was now totally waterlogged.  Also the tree roots had grown through the bottom of the barrel and two feet into the soil underneath.  We didn't have a dolly this time, but instead a borrowed piano mover.  Last but not least, instead of the two burly guys moving the tree, it was one burly guy and me. I have biceps that look remarkably like mini marshmallows.  They are not exactly inspiring.  The situation looked grim.

But dang it, that tree is the symbol of our love.  So somehow by tilting the tree way, way back (which was a project in itself due to all those roots) we managed to get the piano mover under it and then pushed the whole thing up into the wheelchair van.  There was a bit of a problem when the tree proved to have grown too tall to fit into the van, which was solved when the top six inches or so snapped off while I was trying to gently maneuver it inside.  I drove five miles an hour all the way to the new house, terrified that if I stopped too quickly the tree would hurtle off the piano mover and through my windshield.  After a break for dinner, we managed to get the tree down the ramp and off the driveway without it hurtling down the street and bashing into a parked car, though we had a couple of close moments.  The tree is now firmly ensconced in a prominent place in our yard.  We chose the spot based on its proximity to where I pulled up the van. 

I'm thinking it's time I pick out a new "symbol of our love."  I've heard our local nursery has some lovely bonsai.

~Jess