Tree Planting

About a year ago I attended a day-long seminar in Farmington with the Utah Master Gardeners.  It was an awesome day and my departure was paired with a list of must-haves and would-likes.  Among the must-haves was the PURPLE FOUNTAIN BEECH tree.  Buying a tree is a huge commitment.  One must first determine the perfect location in the yard, research the tree's characteristics, find a nursery with the tree, and dig a proper hole.  Digging the hole is a science in and of itself.

The mode of operation to keep my sweet hubby happy with my gardening gig is to dash off to the nursery early in the morning, make my purchase, plant the acquisitions, and then make sure that all of the evidence is neatly in the garbage can before he arrives home from work.  Years later his query usually is, "Is that new?" Pulling this off often involves super human powers.

Yesterday I decided to find my coveted tree.  After asking a helper in the nursery about the PURPLE FOUNTAIN BEECH tree, I was told that only the "tree expert" could help me.  I waited dutifully until he was finished dispensing his scholarly knowledge upon another gardener and asked my question.  I could see his eyes light up and detected a change in his posture as he answered in the affirmative.  He said that he would take me "out" and show it to me.  In nursery lingo this means you are going far from the regular customers, to mecca, tree heaven, with the "tree expert".  I felt giddy with excitement as we approached the targeted row of trees....and there it stood....magnificent....breath-taking.  The price tag on a tree with a name like PURPLE FOUNTAIN BEECH, will always contain three numerals, but one must not look, only forge forward.

The tree was wrestled into my Honda with much straining on the part of the "tree expert" and many worried glances from shoppers in the parking lot.  My mission at this point was to get the PURPLE FOUNTAIN BEECH home, into the ground, and all evidence removed.  I backed the car into the garage, fetched the old red wagon, lined it up under the tailgate, and used my super human powers to lift the 100 pound root ball into the wagon. 

Even with both feet straddling the root ball, fanny in the air, and controlled grunt and strain breathing techniques, I was unable to attain even a small degree of success. Undaunted, I grabbed a shovel to use as a lever and was able to raise the root ball the necessary 3 inches so it could slide out and into the wagon.  It ended up being more of a drag and drop technique, but it was in the wagon.  There certainly are better transporting vehicles than a child's little red wagon, but the super human powers kicked in and transport was complete.

After this, digging the hole was just too much, so sweet hubby agreed to do the job.  State of Utah Master Gardener Larry Sagers says to always get the tree in the ground the day you buy it.  So in the dark, with a spotlight, sweet hubby and Eddie dug the hole. 


When I awoke this morning, I dashed to the window and saw it standing there in its new home.  Scampering across the lawn to make sure that it had been placed correctly, Eddie and I are happy to report that all is perfect, but my back is killing me.