Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Thrice blessed on a Sunday May 5, 2013

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DO YOU EVER EXPERIENCE one of those days when you feel blessed, just blessed?

This Sunday would be such a day.

One of those blessings came in a shoebox, carted to church this morning by my friend Joanne. She spotted two vintage drinking glasses at her son-in-law’s mother’s garage sale yesterday and mentioned my glassware collection. The mother told Joanne to take the two glasses and give them to her friend. That would be me.

And so this morning after the 8 a.m. church service, Joanne handed me that shoebox with two outrageously cheerful glasses, unlike any others in my collection.

Vintage glasses

While I absolutely adore the vintage 70s glasses, I value even more Joanne’s thoughtfulness in giving me something she knows I will use and appreciate. It’s not my birthday, not any special day for me…

The second blessing of the morning came when 2 ½-year-old Mia, who wasn’t feeling well, arrived at my house around 9:30. Her mom, my friend Tammy, had phoned earlier wondering if I could care for Mia while her family attended the confirmation of their eldest son. I didn’t hesitate. The rite of confirmation is too important for parents to miss.

Tammy thought I was doing her a favor. But she was also doing me a favor. Years have passed since I’ve “played dolls” and read picture books to a child. And let me tell you, such child’s play is good for the soul.

Finally, my third blessing of the day came from Cecilia, one of my favorite bloggers, who writes from her “little farm on the prairie” in Illinois. I can’t even tell you how long I’ve read “The Kitchens Garden,” but I cannot imagine my day without a trip to Cecilia’s “farmy.”

She takes me back to my childhood on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, reconnecting me to my roots via her insightful, creative and splendid writing and photography. But more than C’s ability to write well are her compassion and care for both people and animals.

Rather than try to explain, just read this comment posted by Cecilia on my “Hope Unfurls” post published Saturday:

I was out collecting trees the other day and Sandy (The Matriarch) said how she always enjoys your comments, she is so worried about you out there in this infernal snow.. a winter that will not let up is not good for a woman she said, it wears on her, but you have stood up to it with grace and fortitude, not long now I hope, and you will have some flowers. Love from all of us! So proud to be your friend, Audrey. c

Thrice blessed I am this Sunday, dear readers. Thrice blessed.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sweet finds in Montgomery, Part IV: Discovering LaNette & Carol’s shops April 13, 2013

A shot of First Street in Montgomery with LaNette's on the right.

A shot of First Street in Montgomery with LaNette’s on the right.

YOU NEED ONLY STEP inside LaNette’s Antiques ‘N Lace to experience her passion for antiques, window treatments, chocolate and coffee.

Shoppers can relax with a cup at a table and then buy the table and chairs if they wish. Note the beautiful wood floor, which is not original to the store. LaNette bought some pine planks at the lumberyard to recreate the vintage look.

Shoppers can relax with a cup of jo or other treat at a table and then buy the table and chairs if they wish. Note the beautiful wood floor. LaNette bought pine planks at the lumberyard to stain and seal in creating the vintage look. Also notice samples of LaNette’s custom window treatments.

They’re all there in her inviting corner shop in downtown Montgomery which features everything from her customized window treatments to local artisan products to antiques and collectibles, plus coffee, tea, ice cream and chocolate.

That's LaNette behind the counter.

That’s LaNette behind the counter.

Add owner LaNette Kuelper’s friendly welcome—she’s a genuine people person—and you’ll feel like you’ve known her for years, although you’ve only just met her.

Shoppers can settle in and watch activity along First Street in this cozy corner of LaNette's shop.

Shoppers can settle in and watch activity along First Street in this cozy corner of LaNette’s shop.

Colorful comic books found in a tiny back room of the store.

Colorful comic books found in a tiny back nook at LaNette’s.

Vibrant handcrafted clothespin bags and glassware are among the merchandise offerings.

Vibrant handcrafted clothespin bags and glassware are among the merchandise offerings.

LaNette's delightful vintage cash register.

LaNette’s delightful vintage cash register.

LaNette is among the array of hospitable shopkeepers my husband and I met on a recent Saturday visit to this south-central Minnesota community of some 3,000 known as The Kolacky Capital of the World, tracing to the area’s rich Czech heritage.

The presence of the Czech heritage is so strong here that Montgomery celebrates with an annual summer Kolacky Days celebration, hosts the annual Miss Czech Slovak MN Pageant and is home to a Czech import shop.

Cjay's Czech Imports, 506 Fourth St. S.W.

Cjay’s Czech Imports, 506 Fourth St. S.W.

At Cjay’s Czech Imports, we met owner Carol Kotasek, raised by her Czech grandmother and fluent in Czech. You can hear a hint of dialect in her speech, a comforting connection to The Old Country.

Beautiful glassware imported from the Czech Republic.

Beautiful glassware imported from the Czech Republic.

Carol regularly travels to the Czech Republic to purchase the handcrafted artisan merchandise which graces her cozy shop on the southwest side of Montgomery along Minnesota State Highways 13/21. She knows her artists by name—Bohunka, Myška, Krupička…

Being 100 percent German, and once fluent in Deutsch, I find the names foreign. Carol must spell the names, pointing out the accent marks above consonants.

There’s something particularly endearing in this exchange—the spelling of unfamiliar names, the hint of dialect, Carols’ appreciation of fine Czech craftsmanship—that touches my soul. That we should all cherish our heritage with such passion.

Caps popular with Czech girls.

Caps which are very popular with little girls in the Czech Republic.

Handcrafted toys and information about the craftsman from the Czech Republic.

Handcrafted toys and information about the craftsman from the Czech Republic.

More stunning Czech artisan glassware.

More stunning Czech artisan glassware.

FYI: Cjay’s Czech Imports, 506 Fourth St. S.W., is open daily from 10 a.m. – 7 p.m. Click here to link to the store’s website.

LaNette’s, 225 First St. S., is open from 6 a.m. – 6 p.m. Monday – Thursday and from 6 a.m. – 3 p.m. Friday – Saturday. Closed Sunday. Click here to reach LaNette’s Facebook page.

Please check back for one final post from Montgomery. I’ll take you to a local pizza place and inside a one-of-a-kind museum. If you have not read my earlier posts, go back to Sunday and start reading about Montgomery. Also check my March 4 – 8 archives for stories published after a previous visit.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sweet finds in Montgomery, Part II: Thrifting April 11, 2013

LONG BEFORE REPURPOSING, upcycling and recycling became fashionable, I realized the value in shopping second-hand.

Sweet Repeats, a thrift shop in downtown Montgomery, Minnesota.

Sweet Repeats, a thrift shop in downtown Montgomery, Minnesota.

Thus you can imagine my excitement when I discovered not one, but two, thrift stores in downtown Montgomery during a recent visit.

In this second installment focusing on the businesses my husband and I perused in this small south-central Minnesota community on a recent Saturday, I highlight those two thrift stores.

A sampling of the merchandise inside Sweet Repeats.

A sampling of the merchandise inside Sweet Repeats.

First stop was Sweet Repeats, which offers a wide variety of merchandise ranging from furniture to glassware, old tools, books, clothing and everything in between. Sifting through all the merchandise takes considerable time; I’m certain I missed some gems. But, because the building wasn’t heated—or at least it felt that way to me—I shopped at a faster speed.

I kept circling back to this chair, one of four paired with a rectangular glass-top table. I love the bones, the artsy design of this chair as well as the fabric. But I walked away from it, but not before testing the chair, which was too hard for my comfort.

I kept circling back to this chair, one of four paired with a rectangular glass-top table. I love the bones, the artsy design of this chair as well as the fabric. I walked away from it, but not before testing the chair, which was too hard for my comfort.

How well I remember S & H and Gold Bond stamps.

How well I remember S & H and Gold Bond stamps.

I stopped long enough, though, to reminisce when I saw an S & H Green Stamps book, recalling my mom saving, licking and pasting those stamps into books to redeem for merchandise. Funny I can’t remember a single item she got with stamps, only the stamps and the booklets.

Just like the camera my mom used when I was growing up.

Just like the camera my mom used when I was growing up.

I also admired a Brownie Hawkeye Camera while Randy eyed a set of poker chips like his grandparents pulled out on Saturdays.

Sweet pieces of Frankoma pottery.

Sweet pieces of Frankoma pottery.

For the collector, Sweet Repeats offers some sweet pieces of Frankoma pottery. I don’t know going prices on such collectibles. But the owners of this thrift store seem quite aware of value, meaning if you expect to score a steal simply because this is small-town Minnesota, you likely would be wrong.

Love the name, Bird's Nest, of this thrift store.

Love the name of this thrift store: Bird’s Nest.

Just up the street at The Bird’s Nest Thrift Store, a cozy non-profit shop that supports local projects, the merchandise offerings are mostly clothing and basic household necessities. I scored a summery straw purse for $2, perhaps a gift to an aunt or maybe I’ll just keep it for myself.

A nice selection of purses at the Bird's Nest.

A nice selection of purses at the Bird’s Nest.

The "make-an-offer" wedding dress.

The “make-an-offer” wedding dress.

Randy and I also examined a wedding dress as our eldest is shopping for a gown. The volunteer male tending the store was totally clueless as to any details about the unmarked, unsized dress stained with wine on one sleeve. But he offered to call Myrna while I photographed the gown.

You simply have to appreciate such a nicety which reflects the overall friendliness that prevails in Montgomery. These people are just plain nice, friendly folks. Exactly what I’d expect in a small town.

CHECK BACK for the next installment featuring downtown Montgomery businesses my husband and I visited. To read previous posts, click here and then click here.

And if you missed my first piece on an old-fashioned barbershop in Montgomery, click here.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Shopping for antiques in St. Peter is like way cool March 14, 2013

IF YOU HAD PREDICTED 40 years ago that I would be poking around antique stores someday, celebrating the past, remembering the days of my youth, I would have rolled my eyes.

The mere suggestion of such behavior would rate as totally uncool.

But long ago I discovered that antiquing is, indeed, cool, if not downright groovy. Just to be clear, I categorize 1970s merchandise as collectibles, not antiques.

Patrick's on 3rd anchors the corner on the left with Diamonds in the RUST on the right. Diamonds sells merchandise from antiques to present. Love that name.

Patrick’s on 3rd (bar and restaurant) anchors the corner on the left with Diamonds in the RUST on the right. Diamonds sells merchandise from antiques to present. Love that name.

That said, when I entered the charming Diamonds in the RUST shop along Park Row Street three doors down from Patrick’s on 3rd, which I’m told makes the best burgers in St. Peter, I automatically fell in love with the place.

Diamonds in the RUST, looking toward the front of the store.

Diamonds in the RUST, looking toward the front of the store.

See how the sunlight streams through those windows and onto the floor and merchandise.

Love how the sunlight streams through those windows and onto the floor and merchandise.

Light flooding through a street-side bank of tall windows, patches of sunlight slipping across the wood floor, artfully arranged merchandise and then, that most fabulous find of all, a Joseph’s coat of many colors sweater, defined this as one happin’ place.

Seventies coming of age child that I am, my eyes connected with that multi-colored sweater like a hippie drawn to a peace symbol.

The sweater similar to one I wore in the 70s.

The sweater similar to one I wore in the 70s.

“I had a sweater just like that,” I shared with the shopkeeper, although, on closer inspection, I discovered this to be a Tommy Hilfiger replica and not exactly like the sweater I paired with my hip huggers. Oh, well, I thought, and then wondered aloud if my mom, the keeper of everything, had saved that groovy sweater from my teen years. It’s possible; I recently retrieved lime green cuffed, flared pants, with about a size 18-inch waist (was I really that tiny once?), from her basement.

Ah, how antiquing prompts memories…

I own a vintage Chinese checkers board similar to these, found at a garage sale 30 years ago.

I own a vintage Chinese checkers board similar to these, one I found at a garage sale 30 years ago.

Then I spotted two Chinese checkers boards flaunting their psychedelic hues. I always connect Chinese checkers with my farmer dad, gone 10 years now. He never had time for board games. But pull out the metal Chinese checkers game and he was right there with the rest of us gathered around the Formica kitchen table, his clumsy fingers guiding marbles into place.

I would never buy a dead (or live) pheasant, but someone might.

I would never buy a dead (or live) pheasant, but someone might.

More memories of my dad surfaced when I sighted a taxidermy pheasant perched on a slip of wood set upon that beautiful wood floor. I am not a hunter. But, as a child, I would occasionally accompany Dad on his way to the slough—a grassy waterhole long ago drained and converted to farmland—to hunt for pheasants. It wasn’t the actual act of walking the land, searching for pheasants, that appealed to me. Rather, it was the rare opportunity to be with Dad when he was not in the barn or field that drew me to the hunt. I did not understand that then. But I do now.

Pheasant glasses like this are coveted by some members of my extended family.

Pheasant glasses like this are coveted by some members of my extended family.

I didn’t purchase any of those memory items at Diamonds in the RUST, only snapped photos, including one of a set of pheasant glasses that would interest my middle brother or niece’s husband.

A snippet of downtown St. Peter, along Highway 169.

A snippet of downtown St. Peter, along busy U.S. Highway 169.

Down the block and around the corner, walking St. Peter’s main drag, I slipped into a memory lane high when my husband discovered copies of Tiger Beat magazine in another antique store. Oh, my heart. The Beatles. The Monkees.

My beloved Tiger Beat magazine.

My beloved Tiger Beat magazine.

Cousin Joyce, who was two months younger than me, but way more worldly because she had two older sisters and therefore knew about stuff like boys, green eye shadow, David Cassidy and fishnet stockings long before me, introduced me to Tiger Beat. Back in the days when relatives still “visited” each other, Joyce and I would stretch out on her bed stomach side down, knees crooked, feet rocking, paging through the pages of Tiger Beat. And for a few hours I felt like I was hip and, mostly, totally, in love.

BONUS PHOTOS:

Another 70s find in an antique store that was closing for good on the day we shopped there.

A 70s bridal gown found in an antique store that was closing for good on the day I shopped there.

Love that cobalt blue in glassware showcased at Diamonds in the RUST.

Love that cobalt blue in glassware showcased at Diamonds in the RUST.

The whimsical design of these elephant glasses (shot glasses/juice glasses?) caught my fancy at Diamonds in the RUST.

The whimsical design of these elephant glasses (shot glasses/juice glasses?) caught my fancy at Diamonds in the RUST.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Strange but true: Abolish the privy-pit & use the dry earth closet March 13, 2013

DURING THE FIRST 11 years of my life, I lived in a cramped three-bedroom farmhouse in southwestern Minnesota with my parents and four siblings, my third brother not yet born.

The house, albeit aged and plain, provided necessary shelter for our family. But, unlike most rural homes in the area, ours did not have a bathroom. Instead, we used a two-hole outhouse during the warm months and a pot on the porch during the winter.

It was not the outhouse, but rather the red-rimmed white enamel porch pot which I remember with particular disdain. Cold nipped at my butt in the frosty uninsulated and unheated porch. And the pot, naturally, reeked of feces and urine. I couldn’t remove the lid and slap it back on fast enough.

Stone Valley General Store, 110 Pine Street, located in the old Engesser Brewery on the south side of St. Peter.

Stone Valley General Store, 110 Pine Street, located in the old Engesser Brewery on the south side of St. Peter.

With that memory, you will understand why I was especially fascinated by the Heap’s Patent Dry Earth Closet I found recently at the Stone Valley General Store, an antiques/collectibles/consignment shop in St. Peter.

And we’re not talking clothes closet here.

We’re talking water closet, minus the water.

Not just a fine piece of furniture, but a toilet. The door opens to reveal a urine receptacle on the inside of a door and a pail tucked underneath.

Not just a fine piece of furniture, but a toilet. The door opens to reveal a urine receptacle on the inside of the door and a pail tucked underneath.

William Heap & Sons of Muskegon, Michigan, so my research reveals, patented this stylish bedroom commode in 1886 and promoted it as “perfectly inodorous.” The idea was to sprinkle odor absorbing ash or earth into the galvanized bucket which came with the unit before doing your duty. A separate porcelain receptacle on the closet door collected urine.

The urine collector which hangs on the door.

The urine collector which hangs on the door.

In theory it all sounds so wonderful:

No water! No drain! They are simply invaluable… ABOLISH THE PRIVY-PIT!…Secure health, comfort and cleanliness…

You can almost hear the infomercial, can’t you, with these units priced from $8 – $13 and “25,000 already in use.” That’s the pitch in an ad placed in the “Household Necessaries” section of The Cosmopolitan.

Jackie posted these instructions with the dry earth closet.

Jackie posted these instructions with the dry earth closet.

According to Jackie Hoehn, owner of the Stone Valley General Store, the Heap’s Dry Earth Closet she is selling for $1,500 was used at the Mayo Clinic and the State Hospital in St. Peter.

No trying out the dry earth closet in Jackie's shop.

No trying out the dry earth closet in Jackie’s shop.

Now, I didn’t ask Jackie how she acquired this toilet or when. But I expect she may be sitting on it for awhile. Not literally, of course.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Stitches of the past February 10, 2013

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DECADES LATER I can still feel the slight resistance as I draw yarn through holes punched into light-weight cardboard.

I can hear, too, the grating of thread against pulp, as deplorable to me as chalk squeaking across a blackboard.

Yet, my remembrances of stitching yarn into sewing cards rate mostly as a favorite childhood activity I had long forgotten until recently rediscovering those cards tucked away in a chest of drawers.

I pulled out the cards and studied them, for the first time, as vintage works of art.

The cards are smudged and grimy and creased, corners bent, one even torn. But that adds to their character, to their nostalgic  folk art appeal.

It is during these years of aging, of realizing less of your life lies ahead of you than behind, that the past rushes back.

These sewing cards opened the doors to memories of nursery rhymes…

"There was an old woman who lives in a shoe..."

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe…”

…and frightening stories of goats crossing bridges where trolls lurk…

"Three Billy Goats Gruff"

“Three Billy Goats Gruff”

…and Cinderella fairy tales with happily-ever-after endings…

...where frogs turn into princes

…where frogs turn into princes

…and vivid recollections of evil roosters that pursued and pecked (for real, not in any fairy tale)…

The real, pecking, children-chasing roosters were not at all this pretty.

The real, pecking, children-chasing roosters were not at all this pretty.

…and calves that needed to be fed and certainly didn’t smell of daisies.

The calves I fed were black-and-white Holsteins smelling of barn.

The calves I fed were black-and-white Holsteins smelling of barn.

Powerful memories are stitched into these time-worn cards that I now prop as rotating art on the chest of drawers once shared by my dad and his oldest brother.

It seems some days that my thoughts dwell more on memories than the future.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Do you have a particular possession that evokes strong childhood memories?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A chicken even I can love December 14, 2012

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SOMETIMES I TAKE photos and then have nowhere to weave them into the fabric of a blog post. So you never see them.

Take two images I shot last Saturday afternoon at the Faribo West Mall in a store selling a hodge podge of collectibles, clothing and other, well, stuff. I can’t tell you the name of the place because I don’t recall seeing a business sign. And when I purchased two items (not these), the shopkeeper simply stuffed my five $1 bills into his pants pocket.

All of that aside, I spotted so many objects that I wanted to photograph simply for the color, the art, the shape, the uniqueness, the nostalgia. But, I also did not feel comfortable clicking away unfettered while other shoppers browsed.

Thus, I focused my camera on only two pieces of colorful merchandise—a rainbow-hued glass elephant and a vibrant wind-up chicken.

When I show you those two unedited images, you might be impressed. But probably not. Here are the original untouched photos:

Except for resizing, I've done nothing with this photo of a glass elephant.

Except for resizing, I’ve done nothing with this photo of a glass elephant.

The original chicken photo, only resized.

The original chicken photo, only resized.

Then I opted to play with my photo editing tools, of which I understand little. I once edited and posted some winter photos here and then a reader asked “How did you do that?” Seems she wanted to duplicate what I had done. I could not tell her.

But this time, oh, this time, I am going to exercise my smartness by telling you I simply clicked on the “posterize” editing tool and these were the results:

I clicked on "posterize" and this was the result.

A bolder and more modern looking posterized chicken.

Isn’t this fun?

Ta-da, the posterized elephant.

Ta-da, the posterized elephant.

I took plain ordinary images and, with the click of my mouse, transformed them into works of art that really don’t resemble photos at all.

I’m especially smitten with that chicken. And for me to admit any fowl love…

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS on these two transformed photos or photo editing in general? Do you use photo editing tools to enhance your photos and/or create art?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My adventure at a Minnesota “antique theme park,” Part II September 18, 2012

Would you follow this driveway into the woods? I did. And what an adventure.

“I’M A LITTLE SCARED,” I admitted as we turned off Pillsbury Avenue just south of Lakeville, Minnesota, onto a narrow, hard-packed gravel road. Thick dark woods crept to the edge of the driveway and my imagination ran wild with fairy tales that ended badly.

What lurked in those woods? I glanced toward my husband, who was guiding our van into the unknown. “I hope there’s not a big dog.” I imagined a ferocious canine, teeth bared, legs planted in a defensive stance.

A dog-themed sign, one of many signs on the property. And, no, spelling is apparently not a priority here.

There were no guard dogs—unless you count the little dog interested only in pursuing a baby bunny and not humans. There were no bad endings.

But I wanted to warn you, lest you initially think like me and consider backing out even before you enter the wonderment which is Hot Sam’s Antiques.

Junk cars line the driveway, left. And, yes, that’s a Statue of Liberty standing in that red junk car in the background.

This place is part junkyard, sculpture garden and antique shop.

If you like your picking places all nice and neat and tidy, then this may not be your shopping venue.

Under construction in the woods, an over-sized motorcycle sculpture currently lashed to a tree limb among the junk.

But if you are adventuresome, don’t mind scuttling around junk (aka art/fabulous finds/treasures), have lots of time to meander and appreciate a one-of-a-kind place bursting with creativity, then, welcome to Hot Sam’s Antiques.

FYI: Click here to read my first post introducing you to Hot Sam’s Antiques. I have so much to show you that I will be writing a third post.

Along the driveway, you’ll see this fence decorated with an eclectic collection of stuff.

Just more abandoned vintage cars along the side of the driveway.

One of two planes on the property; the other one’s nosedived into the swampland. Yup, that’s a train in the background, behind the gigantic sunflower and to the left.

Following its theme park theme, Hot Sam’s pays tribute to the 1960s television sitcom, “Petticoat Junction,” via several on-site train cars (including this caboose) and a water tank. You’ll find antiques and collectibles inside the boxcars.

Anyone who knows me and how much I fear chickens will appreciate that I actually photographed these fowl roaming at Hot Sam’s.

This log cabin is simply bursting with antiques and collectibles, inside and out.

The hippie van, parked along the beach in the theme park area of Hot Sam’s.

I was tempted, quite tempted, to disobey these signs. Next visit…

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Touring Hot Sam’s, an “antique theme park” near Lakeville September 17, 2012

Northbound on Interstate 35 just south of Lakeville, you’ll see this roadside art marking the location of Hot Sam’s Antiques.

YOU’VE SEEN THE ECLECTIC COLLECTION, I’m sure, if you’ve ever traveled Interstate 35 northbound near Lakeville.

Just another view of the eclectic art collection, shot while traveling the interstate. No stopping for this photo.

You’ll see the fearsome shark first as you’re driving north on I35.

Just south of exit 81 atop a hill on the east side of the interstate, a red ANTIQUE sign draws your eye to a mish-mash of stuff. Several rusting cars. A rather vicious looking blue shark (although I’m sure you don’t notice the detailed sharp teeth while racing along the interstate at 70 mph). A lady bug. A rocket and a submarine. And, heck, there’s an oversized guitar, too.

At the north end of the line, the ginormous guitar.

A view from atop the hill, in the middle of the eclectic collection.

For 30 years I’ve seen the changing collection and always wondered about Hot Sam’s Antiques. Now, after a recent Saturday afternoon visit, I need wonder no more.

Kathy Sakry, left, and Aina Puritis on the front porch of the log cabin.

Honestly, how to begin to describe this place seems an impossibility, until I meet Aina Puritis—pronounce that Latvian first name with a silent “A” and a long “i”—a part-time employee of three months. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” I tell Aina.

“You got that right, honey,” she agrees, then offers her definition. “It’s an antique theme park, a mix of this and that.”

The log cabin, back and to the right, is packed with antiques and collectibles. I spotted the charming, cottage style treehouse, left, but didn’t even check to see if I could explore inside. I was running short on time.

Aina nails Hot Sam’s with that description because, in addition to thousands of antiques and collectibles crammed inside and outside a log house, outbuildings and train cars and scattered upon the grass and through the woods and along the sides of the narrow gravel drive, you’ll discover a wonderment of creations fitting a theme park.

Barry was painting a giant sunflower when I came upon him among the junk in the woods.

You might find Barry (no last name offered), a retired laser cutter turned artist, back in the woods among all the junk working on his latest sculptures—painting a giant sunflower or building an oversized motorcycle roped and suspended from a tree limb.

Nemo from the back, looking toward the log cabin on the hill, center, a boat on the left and train cars in the distance to the right.

He takes credit for transforming a vintage car into the Disney cartoon fish Nemo via orange paint, the addition of fins and eyes and some major interior redecorating. Nemo’s beached in sugar fine sand along a ribbon of water which meanders into the 10-acre property.

Inside Nemo, my absolute favorite part of the entire antique theme park. Who would ever think you could turn an old car into something so incredibly magical?

The tropical beach scene seems oddly out of place given the native swampland grass and surrounding woods and the autumn leaves littering the sand. But no one claims anything’s exactly as it should be at Hot Sam’s.

A close-up of the hippie van parked in a beach setting with fine white sand and even a hammock.

That’s part of the appeal, to see a peace-out hippie van parked on the beach; the wreck of the S.S. Minnow from the 1960s T.V. sitcom, Gilligan’s Island, hugging the shore; the canary yellow tail of a crashed airplane poking through the swampland grass across the water.

“It became a labor of love,” Kathy Sakry says of this whole intriguing place. She’s the significant other of Jake Hood, who, along with his mother, Gladys Hood, 26 years ago transformed a field with a two-car path into Hot Sam’s Antiques. Nine years prior to that, the business was located in Burnsville. Gladys died in December 2010.

Kathy prefers not to explain the story and inspiration behind the antique theme park, choosing instead to hand over a reprint of an article written by Gladys and published in Reader’s Digest. To summarize, Gladys’ father, Hyreeg, an Armenian immigrant living in Detroit, collected scrap metal to raise money for a flagpole upon which he flew a U.S. flag symbolizing his pride in becoming an American.

Inside the log cabin, I found this collectible glassware and this welcoming sign, which seems to exemplify the welcoming spirit of Hot Sam’s Antiques.

Gladys wrote in 2002 that she acquired her father’s love for hard work and collecting (she would go “picking” with him as a child) and continued his legacy via her business. She collected for practical and recycling reasons and for the joy of sharing in the memories of those who visit Hot Sam’s.

I saw at least three Statues of Liberty on the property.

Whether a tribute to her father’s patriotism or not, numerous replicas of the Statue of Liberty are planted on Gladys’ tangible slice of the American dream.

About that business name… Kathy says Hot Sam was Gladys’ nickname, a name she preferred to her given Gladys, which taunting youngsters reinvented into, well, you can figure that out, during her childhood.

Then Kathy shares more about Gladys and a clearer picture emerges of this strong woman. She once raced cars, breaking the land speed record on Daytona Beach in 1956.

This mock, crashed airplane is positioned across swamp grass on the property.

Despite her prior days of daring, competitive racing in a man’s world and of traveling, Gladys seldom left Hot Sam’s once established, Kathy relates. And when she did, it was to attend air shows with her adopted daughter, airline and aerobatic pilot Julie Clark. The bi-plane and staged, mock plane crash at Hot Sam’s are perhaps visual connections to Julie, whose birth father was murdered in 1964 while piloting a plane which subsequently crashed, killing all 44 aboard. Or perhaps the planes reflect Gladys’ general affection for air shows.

While wandering the grounds of Hot Sam’s, you have to wonder where Jake and Gladys acquired all this stuff and Kathy says only that they are buyers and sellers. She wants me to talk to Jake and sets off to find him. But I am anxious to photograph this magical antique theme park in the perfect, golden hour around sunset. I never do connect with Jake.

I am not the only photographer here on this late Saturday afternoon. I meet a young couple and their two children primping for a family photo shoot with St. Louis Park-based portrait photographer Jess Sandager of Olive Avenue Photography. Later I meet up with the family and photographer near the beach. Jess tells me Hot Sam’s is well-known in the photo industry.

Although I’d like more details, I won’t keep Jess from the waning, perfect light.

I watch for a minute as Jess works her camera, photographing the little boy on a tractor and then mom and baby.

The beached Nemo.

Father and son, in the meantime, are now heading toward the orange fish on the beach, toward Nemo—dad walking, son running…

Watch for this sign at 22820 Pillsbury Avenue South directing you onto the narrow gravel road into Hot Sam’s Antiques.

FYI: To get to Hot Sam’s Antiques from Interstate 35, take exit 81 near Lakeville and go east on Dakota County Road 70 about half a mile to the stoplight. Then turn south onto Kenrick Avenue/County Road 46. Continue approximately 1 1/2 miles on Kenrick, which turns into Pillsbury Avenue. Hot Sam’s is located on the west side of the road at 22820 Pillsbury Avenue South, Lakeville. You’ll see a sign.

Hours are from 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. weekdays (except closed on Thursday) and Saturday and from noon to 6 p.m. on Sunday.

Check back for more photos from Hot Sam’s because there’s so much more I need to share with you.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Antiquing with my husband in Kenyon and Lake City July 17, 2012

A sweet little gallery and antique shop, The Kenyon Gallery in Kenyon.

I AM ONE OF THOSE ANTIQUE SHOPPERS, emphasis on the word those.

Allow me to explain. I enjoy browsing through antique stores, but I seldom buy. Why? I am cheap and prefer to find my collectibles and antiques at thrift stores and rummage sales.

Perhaps that word cheap isn’t quite right. Let’s change that to budget conscious. Yes, that’s better.

It’s not that I haven’t ever made an antique store purchase. I have. Just not that often. I am sorry, antique dealers. I do appreciate you and all the effort you put into finding, displaying and selling your merchandise.

Loved this unassuming casual country style table setting inside The Kenyon Gallery.

I’ve always wondered, though, how can you bear to part with your treasures? If I had to give up one of my two dozen or so vintage tablecloths, I would struggle. Oh, yes, I’ve done that, loaning several to my eldest daughter. The emphasis here would be on the word loan.

Recently my husband and I took a day trip to Lake City, which is on Lake Pepin (aka a wide spot in the Mississippi River). But before we reached that southeastern Minnesota town, we stopped in Kenyon at The Kenyon Gallery, a shop that markets a mixture of merchandise including $5 frames, framed prints, antiques and collectibles.

Here are three particularly interesting items I eyed up with my camera until my husband said, “We’ve gotta keep moving along here.” He was right and out the door we went, still aiming for Lake City.

The design on these chair backs intrigues me; I’ve never seen anything like these chairs. Readers, do you know anything about these chairs or their value?

I call it art although both pieces really have to do with something involving the making of furniture. I think.

I grew up on a dairy farm. What can I say?

Before we got there, though, we had to stop in Bellechester and check out a cornfield.

And then we were back on the road to Lake City. The husband might have repeated, “We’ve gotta keep moving along here.”

The Lake Pepin Pearl Button Co, a must-stop antique store in Lake City.

If you’re into antiquing, you’ll like the shopping in this riverside town. The Lake Pepin Pearl Button Co., located in a former button factory and dry goods store and with around 40 antique dealers, will easily occupy you for hours, if your spouse is patient. Not that I window-shopped for hours. But I could have.

A nickel for your fortune and a nickel for the foodshelf at the Button Co.

Pop art style graphics and my childhood fondness for 7-UP made this sign a tempting purchase at the Button Co.

So onward we traipsed in the heat and humidity.

A 1957 pen and ink drawing print by M.M. Swanston.

In the basement of Mississippi Mercantile (don’t you love the names of these antique stores?), I spotted this unusual portrait of Abraham Lincoln.

On to the Antique Shopper, I found plenty of appealing merchandise on the main level and in the basement of this multi-dealer venue.

My mom used snack sets to serve company when I was growing up, the reason I am typically drawn to these fancy dishes.

I had a tough time passing up these vintage bowls in the Antique Shopper. I have this thing for bowls, as my husband and kids will tell you. And these are beauties, unlike any I’ve seen.

Simply a graceful display highlighted by that Greta Garble photo.

Just as we were heading for the door, my spouse spotted an antique Grain Belt beer cooler under a table and paused to admire it.

My husband lingered at this Grain Belt cooler in Antique Shopper.

The oppressively hot, humid and smothering weather coupled with a strong desire to swig a cold one compelled both of us to just stand there for a few seconds and stare.

But then I snapped out of my heat-induced stupor. “We’ve gotta be moving along,” I muttered and out the door we went.

CLICK HERE TO LINK to a previous post about Lake City, specifically its pearl button-making history.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 
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