Our East Coast garden holds an eclectic mix of roots. And this is the season they'll be dug up by ourselves and by visitors from far and wide: archives, graveyards, historical societies and families will all be visited in the search for connections to the past.

Our roots have been transplanted from Ireland, Scotland, France, England, Portugal and other gardens of the world, and pieces of our branches have been carried to all corners of Canada and beyond, taking root elsewhere.

It seems like there's a pandemic of people needing to know where they came from, and why their ancestors settled on these shores. We often wonder about the lifestyles of our forefathers when they left their home fires to settle here. And those who have branched from here to elsewhere carry the folklore of life "back home."

Our past is important, no question. Knowing where we came from helps us to understand ourselves better. Sometimes it explains why we act the way we do. We often rationalize our behaviour by saying "it's in the genes." When a new baby arrives we search for family resemblances-are we trying to predict the future?

It's the rich mix of roots in our garden that gives us our special East Coast culture, that blend of beliefs and traditions and lifestyles that keep us bound together no matter where we land. When I'm away from the region for more than four days I get homesick for the smells and sounds that I left behind, but I think it's the quick wit and sense of humour that I miss most. And the music. And the rhythm of Atlantic Canadian life.