There is wonder and welcome at the sight of new leaves unfurling each spring; there is added awe in the evidence of survival in the plants I have transplanted. The catalpa tree, f”r’instance. It was a seedling underneath a full grown tree just down the block whose owner agreed I could dig it up and take it home. It did well last year and formed a miniature of what grew outside my Polish grandma’s house in St. Thomas, Ontario, on the Main Street, where a Mac Donald’s is now. The memory of Baba’s tree prompted my trekking the ‘baby’ home. Well, there are teeny new green shoots on it now. I gave a hoot of joy when I noticed and touched them gently. It’s not that I don’t trust trees to get on with life – but – even in what passes for winter here in Victoria involves months when the garden is not daily observed and how would I know if that little catalpa tree had its roots miserably in water for days or weeks on end……… But, all is well. It waves tiny leaves as I walk by.