Everybody remembers their first date with an Acer. Mine was in the middle of August, 20 or so years ago, in a newly rented accomodation, there it was, in a pot, as part of a garden the size of a handkerchief. It was miserable, un-loved, a poor excuse of a weeping twig, as dry as a drum, leafless and despite the obvious lack of care, it was quite dramatic. The challenge was to try and rescue it, see it through fall and winter and wait for the spring magic to reveal a beautiful Garnet, if it would live. We moved, and took it with us. It was theft, but since my husband had brought it back to life, we comforted ourselves in that it was a rightful robbery. We had revived it, won it, and deserved to keep it. It followed us, from one garden to the other until it was time to plant it in the soil for definite… and give it some acer and conifer friends.