Before we put our first house on the market we quietly dug up a Japanese maple from the backyard. We had planted it around the time we got married, and it was a little offshoot from a beautiful maple that grew at John’s parents’ house—the only home he lived in during his childhood. That house has since been sold, so the tree carried extra meaning: a wedding-time planting and a living link to John’s childhood home. Because of that, when we moved we decided to lift the tree, set it in a bucket, and bring it along with us.
We moved in December, so the timing wasn’t ideal for transplanting. The ground was frozen and there was a lot of snow, so we ended up holding the tree in a bucket for weeks. By the time we finally had a chance to plant it—about seven weeks after moving—we worried it might be dead.
We planted it carefully, watered it a little, and hoped for the best. When spring arrived the other maple on our property burst into life and looked lush and healthy. Meanwhile our little transplanted tree still looked like it had been frozen in time, with tiny buds on the tips of its branches that hadn’t changed since winter.
At first it didn’t look rotten—just dormant. We debated whether to do anything or simply wait. John half-joked that maybe it would rebound next spring after a year of rest. For a while we tried not to read too much into it and left the tree alone to see what would happen.
Then one afternoon John came inside after mowing and announced, with dramatic pause, that something exciting had happened. I guessed wildly—squirrel sightings, hidden treasure—but the reveal was better: the maple was budding. The little tree had sprouted tiny red leaves. I couldn’t contain my excitement.
I got a little silly with happiness—danced outside and chanted things like “Go maple, it’s your birthday,” which later shifted to “Grow maple, grow maple, grow!” I may have made a memorable first impression on our new neighbors. It felt natural, though—those small signs of life after a period of uncertainty feel worth celebrating.
We know resiliency isn’t guaranteed. Trees can look fine one day and decline the next, and we recently learned how quickly leafy branches can fail. Still, the fresh growth feels promising. The thought of looking out the window over the years and seeing that little wedding maple—a living piece of John’s family history—thriving in our backyard is heartwarming.
So for now we’ll keep watering when needed, give it some time, and celebrate each new leaf. Go maple—may you grow strong and steady.