I have a small weeping Japanese maple in my garden. I bought it as a rooted stick at the Philadelphia Flower Show twenty years ago. When we moved to St. Michaels ten years ago, the tree came with us. It liked the place I planted it and has thrived.
When I put in my raised vegetable beds there was plenty of room between the end of the bed and the small tree. Five years later the tree was encroaching on the bed and I was afraid I’d break something every time used that shortcut to get to other parts of the garden.
My husband and I looked at it and I decided we needed to move the garden bed. This required removing most of the dirt out of the bed. The drip irrigation system will have to be reworked as well. We started shoveling yesterday. It was warm and late afternoon and in the sun. We didn’t last very long.
This morning we worked again. Cooler, not in the sun, but we still had to sit down every once in a while. Sitting at the computer does not prepare you for this kind of work. I reminded myself it was that horrid cardio I’m supposed to get in every day. It had rained last night so the dirt stuck to the shovels like heavy, wet snow. We made a lot of progress and got the bed mostly emptied, levered up with bricks underneath.
Tomorrow we’ll see if we can move the wooden frame two feet away from the tree. At one point, on my knees in the mud, I said to my husband, “It would have been easier to move the tree.” He looked at me and said, “I didn’t know that was an option.” I rocked back on my heels and wondered. Was moving the tree really an option? Probably not. But at that moment, I might have been persuaded.