If you read that old post about our maple, you already know part of this story. For everyone else, here’s the full version. In 2007, just before we got married and long before this blog existed, my parents gave us a tiny Japanese maple. It started as a small 24-inch offshoot near a large maple in their backyard. We planted the little tree in our first home, offered a few hopeful plant prayers, and watched it survive and grow—if only a bit—over the next few years. We don’t have many photos from that era, but the sentimental value was huge.
Because the tree felt meaningful—it tied into our wedding memories and came from my childhood yard—we dug it up before selling that house and carried it with us to our second home. That move was a little rough on the plant: we transplanted it in winter and worried we’d done it in. To our delight, the maple survived. It grew a bit more, though it tended to blend into the surrounding purple shrubs in photographs, so you rarely noticed it.
When my parents later moved out of my childhood home, the maple took on even more significance, so we decided to bring it along again. Practical note: if you plan to take plants with you when selling a house, remove them before listing or make sure the contract specifies they’re coming with you—anything in the ground during showings is usually expected to convey with the sale.
Digging up the tree the second time was fairly straightforward. I dug a wide trench around it, loosened the soil, and gently lifted the root ball. It was small enough to fit into a plastic bin I had on hand, though it had grown heavier since its previous move. Sherry captured one amusing moment of me hoisting the bin and getting smacked by a leaf, which was not my most flattering angle.
We moved the maple to our new house right after digging it up so it wouldn’t be in the way during showings. It barely fit into our car, leaving Sherry crowded in the back with maple leaves in her face. We half-joked about what onlookers might think—some drivers might have guessed something wild back there—but we made it without incident.
The maple sat in its bin in our new yard through the chaos of moving and settling in. We eventually decided we had to plant it before the limited root ball and temporary drainage could do it harm. Choosing a new location took some thought because our landscaping plans are still developing, but we settled on a spot at the edge of the woods around our deck. That placement keeps the tree visible from the house, gives it more room to grow than last time, and integrates it into a natural backdrop.
We planted it in summer, which felt risky, so we took extra care: we mixed compost with garden soil to improve root nourishment and used proper planting depth and backfill techniques. Recent rains have helped, and so far the maple seems to be settling in well. Our main ongoing concern is deer. If you follow our Instagram, you know we have frequent deer visitors. They like low shrubs, but so far the maple appears unappetizing to them. I even watched one deer cautiously sniff the tree and then walk away, which was a small relief.
Have you transplanted sentimental plants or objects between homes? We’d love to hear about your successes or learning moments. This maple has now lived in four yards, including the place where it first sprouted, and watching it survive each move has felt strangely emotional. It reminds us that small, living things can carry big memories—so long as you treat them with a little patience and some good soil.