An Oklahoma Eden

Not only does Debby Kaspari create beauty on her drawing board and in her sketchbooks, but she creates it all around. Here's her Oklahoma deck, where she and I shared a bottle of Australian wine and talked about everything and nothing.

The water garden, just off the deck, astounded me. There was a biological filter of iris and other water plants, the roots taking the nitrates out of the water, aided by a recirculating pump. Obviously, it was working perfectly, in stark contrast to the cauldron of pea soup that my little water garden is this spring. Ploop, ploop.

Larkspur all around.


And later in the season, coleus and zinnias in perfect bronzy harmony. Debby is a colorist of the first rank.


Deb's garden was a painting in itself, ever-changing, an outward manifestation of the creativity and beauty within her.

On May 4, Debby posted this photo on Facebook, with the tagline:

Why spring in Oklahoma totally rocks!Lazuli and painted bunting at the feeder at one time. And she also had indigo buntings, plus an indigo x lazuli hybrid.


Her artwork celebrates the beauty of plants as much as it does that of birds and animals.
Irises from her own garden:
A jack in the pulpit found deep in the Harvard Forest:
When I visited in April, we took an evening walk around the circle of her rural subdivision. The honey locusts were in full bloom. It wasn't just the wine--we were drunk on the Oklahoma spring!

People are fond of saying that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes I believe that, and sometimes that platitude just doesn't fit. The tsunami that hit Banda Aceh, Indonesia in January, 2005 is one thing that didn't need a reason, and can't be glorified or justified with a reason anybody could come up with no matter how convoluted their thinking.

But I would like to think that my trip to Oklahoma to appreciate all that Debby and Mike have done to make the world more beautiful had a reason. I feel blessed that I experienced that, blessed to have seen the gardens and listened to the waterfall and slept under their roof, blessed to have nosed around her upstairs studio and peeked into the flat files full of her paintings and drawings.

Blessed to have walked out that evening to put our noses to the honey locust blossoms, blessed to have witnessed it all.

The ToadPond

It was supposed to be a fishpond, a water garden, but it's really a toadpond for the first couple of months of spring. No matter--we love toads around here, and we have more every year thanks to the breeding place we've made for them.

I can always tell it's spring when Phoebe goes around wearing toad jewelry--rings and bracelets of horny male American toads, amplexing her for all they're worth. Or would that be horny American male toads, or male horny American toads? I do not know.                                                 

I love redheads. You got a pretty mouth on you. Mmmf!  You look very very pretty tonight. Erp!

Urgg. This guy is such a TOAD.
Phoebe spends many hours playing with the toads, trilling to start them singing, staring into the depths of the pond, tickling the shubunkins and listening to the trickling fountain. I spent hours like that as a kid, too, but I never had a water garden, or living amphibian jewelry. We always want more for our kids than we had ourselves.

I am grateful to have a daughter, red-headed, limber elf, who finds the same things funny and beautiful as do I. It is hard to resist telling her absolutely everything, because she feels like my best friend.