Last summer I spent a couple weekends creating a new bed in my front yard. I tore out a sprawling jasmine that was probably quite stunning before I moved in and before the mulberry tree grew to the point of changing my yard from full sun to full shade.
I planted a couple hydrangeas, a hedge of Gumpo White dwarf azaleas and what I had intended to be the star of the show, a potted Japanese maple (JM) called ‘Kamagata.’ If you’re not familiar with this particular cultivar, I don’t blame you. There are over 400 JM cultivars and that number is steadily growing even if most garden centers continue to carry only the 15 or so most common cultivars like ‘Bloodgood’ ‘Crimson Queen,’ ‘Sango Kaku’ and ‘Garnet.’ To help keep track of all these trees with the hard-to-pronounce names, most JM enthusiasts turn to J.D. Vertree’s aptly (but boringly) named bible “Japanese Maples”. Vertrees is to JM fans what Stephen Hawking is to really smart people that like science and space stuff. Vertrees is to JM fans what Mr. Miyagi was to “Danielson”. So, when J.D. Vertrees selected ‘Kamagata’ as one of only two JMs that he would name and cultivate, you know it’s a good tree.
I was so proud of my little tree in its bright white pot. I felt like it was the keystone that held together the new bed I had just created. Unfortunately, as I wrote last July, someone else decided that they liked it too and they figured they would deprive me of my little tree.
In addition to blogging about this, I made the mistake of posting about it on Facebook. I wrote something along the lines of “Someone stole a fairly rare Japanese maple out of my front yard last night.” Now, my friends are good guys that I would trust my life with, but they are not the type of guys who will just let you say stuff and get away with it. Because they, in their foolish ways, do not consider gardening a very manly pursuit, the responses ranged from the sympathetic “someone once stole our bench” to the downright cruel: “Hey everybody, I just acquired a fairly rare Japanese maple. Send me a message if you’re interested in buying it.” Since then it’s become a bit of an inside joke (always at my expense) and it’s the most common refrain I hear whenever I mention something about working in my garden.
The bed hasn’t looked right to me since the ‘Kamagata’ was stolen, but I have been reluctant to replace it for fear that whomever took it would just do it again. But I have thrown caution to the wind! Stay tuned for Part II.
Doesn't that just take the wind out of your sails? I've had hostas stolen from our garden, too, nothing as fancy as a lovely Japanese Maple at all, but still, the fact remains, someone came in to my yard with a shovel and helped themselves. It's such an unsettling feeling. I would have given them the plant if they'd asked, but they chose to steal it. And I won't go into the morals of a person who stole the bleeding heart I planted on my father's grave site.
ReplyDeleteI got a chuckle out of your friends taunts, very clever, but oh, if they gardened, they'd know how you feel. I look forward to Part II.
Karen, as annoyed as I was about the JM theft, I think that what happened to you was worse. The fact that my tree was in a pot meant that it was basically wrapped up and ready to go in a spur of the moment. In your case, they actually had to plan ahead to bring a shovel . . . unless they just happened to have one handy. And, really, nothing good can be said for someone that would steal flowers from a grave site.
DeleteI'm sorry (glad?) to hear that your friends are building your character and definitely sorry about the theft of a fairly rare Japanese maple. When I lived in sweet, wholesome, crime-free Vermont, word on the street was not to put out hanging baskets and potted annuals until after Mother's Day, because people would steal them as gifts. (A thought which pretty well took my breath away.) Hope living dangerously turns out well. (There's no good reason why it shouldn't, after all.)
ReplyDeleteMy friends do a very good job at keeping me humble so I guess I'm thankful for that.
DeleteI have heard of people having flowers and other plants stolen right around Mother's Day. That makes sense in a really sad way. What would a mother think if she found out her son or daughter had stolen plants for them? I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
What is wrong with people? Honestly, heisting a JM out of the front yard? Sort of makes you wonder what sort of crook that would be? Did they really know the maple was relatively rare? A smart crook? Seems rather oxymoronic doesn't it? Perhaps it was the same person that recently stole the Lorax from the garden of Dr. Seuss...that one confounded me too. Who would steal the Lorax?!?!? Sheesh. I'm curious now to see if Kamagata 2.0 is about to appear in your garden...replete with a padlock and chain ;)
ReplyDeleteAlthough I really have no idea who would steal a tree, my two guesses are that it was either just a couple kids who were horsing around or it was someone from the landscaping crew that works my neighbor's yard. I thought in the latter case that they would be more likely to recognize a Japanese maple as a tree with at least some value and they would have unknowing customers that they could sell it to as part of their service.
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