An award no lizard can give

I have a confession. Before I started this garden blog, I had never read another one. The purpose of my blog? Here I am at the end of the road, and no one ever sees my garden, except friends and family and, of course, the mail carrier. I put a lot of work into my yard, and I want others to see it. 

I don't garden for glory. I garden because working the soil refreshes my spirit and tones my body, and there is deep satisfaction in nurturing a plot of land and watching plants grow. A scene like this photo, taken from my patio in the spring, gives me a little jolt of joy, no matter how busy or stressed I am.

 I garden because I like to be out there with the birds and squirrels and butterflies and bees.

I like to create a sanctuary for them, and in the process I make a place that's good for me, too.

I delight in the creatures of the garden, and sometimes I think they appreciate my efforts. I caught this guy sunning himself on a concrete ornament I had placed on my patio table.

But I am human. Occasionally I admire the featured "Yard of the Month" in the Helena news, and I know a lizard isn't going to nominate me for a landscaping award.

I thought there could be a few hundred garden blogs out there, but really I had no idea. I published my first post, Weed War, on October 5, less than two months ago. Nobody read it. I followed up with Weed War: part 2, and nobody read that either. I finally cajoled some relatives and friends to take a peek. I bribed my friend Virginia to leave a comment. Everyone gave glowing praise, except my son Mark, who said I should add more pictures. Good advice.

Then, on November 10, I discovered Blotanical. Wow. Now I had the gardening world available at the click of a mouse. I realized I was a tiny minnow in the ocean of garden blogs, many written by gifted writers and expert landscapers and horticulturists. There are professional photographers and computer whizzes who can put together amazing web sites. I gulped and kept swimming, wondering how long I could survive in in such deep waters.

Then something happened. Other little fishes, and big fishes, too, swam up and welcomed me. And they began to read my blog! I remembered what I have always known: gardeners from all over the planet are naturally warm souls who like to share. So I am very happy at Blotanical. I thank everyone who has visited my site and commented on my posts. I thank all these gifted people who have invited me to visit their own gardens and have offered encouragement and inspiration to me.

And this past week, I was nominated for Yard of the Month!

Well, not exactly. What happened was, Noelle, of azplantlady, (She gardens in another world, in a fascinating place called Arizona) presented me with the Best Blog Award. At first I thought it might be a mistake, and I had better take my award and hide it before someone said, "Oops! Sorry, but that was the wrong Deborah."  Then, a couple days later, Deborah (She spells it the same way I do, and she is a Canadian whose climate is also quite different from mine) of Green Theatre presented me with the same award. So it is really me, and I do get to keep it. Thank you, thank you, Noelle and Deborah!

The award has strings attached. First, I have to display it:

Looks nice, doesn't it? 

And I have to pass it along to somebody else. I have discovered that "Best Blog" doesn't mean THE best blog; it means another blogger thinks your blog has merit and is worthy of recognition. The problem for me is that almost all the other bloggers I know already have this award, well deserved. There is one blogger who is also new to Blotanical. He gardens in south Florida, and his wit has made me a fan. I think he needs encouragement to become more involved with the Blotanical community. So I hereby present the award to sanddune of South Florida Challenges..   Everybody check out his blog. Thanks!

my garden friend, the cat

This day is as fresh and crisp as one of those gala apples I bought the other day. Take a bite, and sweet-tart juice squirts out. I went down to the lady garden after lunch with plans to lounge in the swing and savor it all, but I couldn't sit for long. The clean air, the shimmering fall colors, and the song of birds enticed me from my comfortable spot, and I soon was strolling around the garden paths.

I checked out the shrubs I transplanted a couple weeks ago. They are doing well. I was admiring the purple foliage of a loropetalum bush when I heard a familiar mee-ow. A gray kitty, who has determined that I am her best friend, if not her owner, trotted toward me. This cat, always well-fed and taken care of - not a stray, first introduced herself to me last year, a few months after my mother passed away.

I do no believe in reincarnation, not at all, but if I did, I would be wondering. My mother was an animal lover, and she jokingly had said she was going to come back as a cat. This particular gray cat, the moment she saw me, came running to me like she had known me forever. I was sitting on the swing, and the cat hopped into my lap and began to purr and rub my neck.

"Cat, " I said, "I am a stranger to you. You do not belong to me. Don't you know that?" 

She purred all the louder.

Today the gray kitty accompanied me on my rounds, examining plants and helping me pull a few weeds. When we got to the woodland garden, she ran to the bench there and jumped up, expecting me to sit with her a while, which I did; and so the two of us enjoyed the fine day.

When it was time to head for the house, my friend stayed by my side until we reached the walkway leading to the front door. Whereupon she did a strange thing. She leaped in front of me, then turned and batted at my legs. Every time I took a step toward the house, she did this. She was clearly telling me she was not ready for our walk to end.

So I spent a few more minutes with her. I showed her the pumpkins and gourds I have placed in a bed of lemon thyme near the front door, and we discussed what a great time of year it is. Finally, she turned and headed down the road toward her own house. She was holding her tail high, the sign of a happy cat.This little pumpkin is resting in a bed of thyme near my front door.