Nine years ago, after Leo had died, people said to me. "I never knew he was your stepfather." You see, I never called him that. At first, he was no one special in my life. Then he became my friend. In time, I felt he was also my father.
Leo married my mother when I was eleven. Two years later we moved into a house in a new suburban development, where we put down roots. At first our lawn was just a mud with wild grass, but Leo saw bright possibilities. "We'll plant trees there to give us shade as well as some flowers," he said. And just these little touches made our house different from all the others. More important, a real family was forming. Leo was becoming a full-time parent, and I was learning what it meant to have a father.
Weekday mornings when the weather was bad, Leo often drove me to school. Having a father drop you off may have been something my classmates took for granted, but I always thought it was wonderful. Saturday mornings, we went to the hardware shop, then stepped into the five-and-ten, buying a sports magazine or something else. Some people might think that doing shopping together is nothing special, but I, who had ever before spent my childhood watching other families do their everyday activities, experienced them now with extreme delight. Looking back, I realized that Leo gave me what I needed most—the experience of doing ordinary things together as a family.
Soon after we moved to the suburbs, one of our new neighbors introduced herself to me. She had already met my mother and Leo. "You know," she said, "you look just like your father." I knew she was just making conversation--but even so... "Thank you", I said. Why tell her anything different?
The phrase “put down roots”in the second paragraph means  _______.

A．farmed

B．planted

C．settled

D．worked

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