I HAVE SHOPPED many local flea markets and countless garage sales. And I’ve seen a lot of quirky, odd, unusual, unique, weird merchandise. Like doll heads in a colander.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Assorted tools that appeared more art than tool collection.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
A doll in a coffin.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Buttons galore.
A typo, “kids” instead of “kinds,” had me laughing aloud. (From the Faribault Daily News Community Calendar)
And then there is this: Sellers of all kids will be at the annual “anything goes garage sale and flea market.” Now that’s different, I thought in decidedly Minnesota terms.
Clearly, kids will not be sold at the flea market from 10 am – 4 pm this Saturday, April 27, at the Faribo West Mall in Faribault. But the typo in the community calendar listings in the Faribault Daily News made me laugh. And, goodness, how we can all use a bit of laughter in our lives.
Happy shopping at the anything goes, sans kids, garage sale and flea market.
A tractor pulling a manure spreader fuels up at the local co-op. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
LIVING IN FARIBAULT, a city of some 24,000 surrounded by farm fields, I sometimes see ag machinery pass through town. I live along an arterial route. Tractors pulling implements or solo tractors and combines occasionally roar by my house, especially during spring planting and fall harvest.
But the sighting of a tractor with attached manure spreader spotted several blocks from my house at the local Faribault Community Co-op Oil Association on a recent afternoon proved a first. I’d never seen a manure spreader, marketed as a box spreader, within city limits. But there the New Holland brand spreader sat, linked to a Case International tractor. Right there aside the co-op fuel pumps along Division Street in the heart of downtown.
Leaving the co-op. The historic Alexander Faribault house can be seen on the other side of the hedge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
My mind asked, “Why? Why wouldn’t you unhook a manure spreader before driving a tractor into town to fuel up?” I’ll never know.
Whatever, the scene drew my eyes and reminded me of the importance of agriculture in this region. Although farming has changed from mostly small family farms with livestock to much larger acreages minus the animals, the importance of agriculture to the local economy remains. All I need do is drive into the country to observe farmers busy in the fields, planting corn and soybeans.
Back in the 1860s and 1870s, wheat was the primary crop in this area. Flour mills populated the region. None remain here today.
But what remains are memories and history, including the Alexander Faribault house, which sits next to the co-op, on the other side of a hedge row. The house, built in 1853 and thought to be the oldest woodframe house in southern Minnesota, served as a fur trading post for the town founder. He also farmed, on land that is today within the city limits, and sheltered Indigenous Peoples on his farm.
After waiting at the Division Street/Minnesota State Highway 60 stoplight, the tractor continued east across the historic viaduct, presumably heading back to the farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Community Co-op has been in Faribault since 1925, closing in on 100 years in business. That’s remarkable really. Good customer service and loyalty withstand the tests of time. And no one seems to mind a tractor with attached honey wagon pulling up to the pumps on a Sunday afternoon in April.
Green is slowly tipping trees, coloring the ground as we bridge into spring. This hillside scene was photographed in Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
THIS TIME OF YEAR in Minnesota—this early spring—everything appears more vibrant. At least to my winter weary eyes. My eyes, which have viewed mostly muted shades of brown and gray for too many months, can’t get enough of this landscape edging with color.
Bold blue skies blanket River Bend’s prairie, which will soon be lush with new growth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Intense green in buds and lush lawns, thriving with recent rains and then sunshine and warming day-time temps, layer the landscape. Sometimes the sky is such a bold blue that my eyes ache with the beauty of it all. Green against blue, the natural world a poem, a painting, a creative story.
Buds emerge against the backdrop of the creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Like most Minnesotans, I find myself emerging, getting outdoors more, immersing myself in nature. Not that I don’t spend time outside in winter. But now, in late April, I’m out more often.
The Straight River twists through River Bend Nature Center, winding through Faribault to connect with the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Parks and trails and the local nature center draw me into woods, along prairie, aside replenished wetlands and ponds, by rivers and creeks. Even a walk through a neighborhood to observe tulips flashing vivid red and yellow pleases me. There’s so much to take in, to delight in as this season unfolds.
Inspirational signs are scattered throughout River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” reads a quote from William Shakespeare printed on a memorial plaque placed on a bench at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. I’m no Shakespearean scholar, but I interpret that to mean nature connects us.
Turtles galore lined logs at River Bend’s Turtle Pond on a recent sunny afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
That happened recently at the Turtle Pond. I paused to photograph three turtles lining a log, still as statues in the afternoon sunshine. Then a passing friend noticed and asked what I saw. And then he pulled out his cellphone to photograph. And then the photographer who was shooting senior photos on the boardwalk bridge over the pond, noticed the turtles, too. We were, in that moment, kin in nature, touched by the countless turtles perched on logs in the water.
This bridge spans a creek in Falls Creek County Park, leading to hiking trails in the woods on one end and an open grassy area on the other. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Nature also connected me with others at Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. A family picnicking by the park shelter prompted memories of long ago picnics there with my growing family. I walked over to tell the young parents how happy I was to see them outdoors, grilling, enjoying the beautiful spring day with Ezra in his Spider-Man costume and Millie in her stroller. Nature makes us kin.
Wildflowers are blooming, including these at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
People simply seem nicer, kinder, more open to conversation when they’re outdoors. It’s as if the wind whispers only good words into our thoughts. It’s as if clouds disperse to reveal only sunny skies. It’s as if sounds are only those of silence or of birds, not of anger and hostility. Nature calms with her voice, her presence.
Water mesmerizes as it flows over stones in a clear-running creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
I love to stand aside a burbling creek, to hear water rushing over rocks. In that moment, I hear only the soothing, steady rhythm of music and none of the noise of life. Peace, sweet peace, consumes me.
Trails at Falls Creek County Park are packed dirt, narrow, rugged, uneven and sometimes blocked by fallen trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
The same goes for walking within nature. Trees embrace me. Wildflowers show me beauty. Dirt beneath my soles connects me to the earth, filling my soul.
On a recent afternoon at River Bend, geese searched the prairie for food. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
And then there are the creatures. The Canadian geese wandering the prairie, searching for food, their long necks bending, pilfering the dried grass while I dodge the droppings they’ve left along the pathway. They are fearless, a lesson for me in standing strong.
Deer at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Deer gather, then high-tail away when they grow weary of me watching them. They’ve had enough, even if I haven’t.
A nesting mallard hen and drake, nearly camouflaged on a wetland pond at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
And at the pond, mallards nest. Unmoving. Determined. Heads folded into feathers. Settled there among dried stalks, water bold blue, reflecting the sky. Spring peepers sing a symphony of spring. It is a scene, a performance that holds me.
Rustic signage, which I love, marks landmarks and trails inside River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Shakespeare was right. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”
Pick a poem from a box at Mercado Local (and other locations) as part of a poetry initiative rooted in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
PRINTED POETRY PLACED in public pleases me. Pleases me because putting poetry out there places this literary art into hands that might not otherwise pick poetry. I mean, if we’re honest, how often do we purchase a poetry book or pull a poetry volume from the 811. section of the library? Probably not all that often.
Among colorful merchandise sold by immigrant vendors at Mercado Local in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
That is why I love the latest poetry project in my area—“Poem in a Bag.” Rice County Neighbors United, an advocacy group for low income and immigrant community members, recently launched this project in Northfield, a city rich in the arts, including poetry. Mar Valdecantos, RCNU advocate director and also a poet, writer, visual artist and art teacher, is leading this endeavor.
Grab a poetry scroll from the box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
The concept is simple. Collect, translate, print and place poems inside a box (not a bag) in locations accessible to the public. The poetry, both original and favorites, is paired with local original art, including that of Valdecantos. Anyone can grab a poetry scroll and have instant access to literary and visual art.
Northfield is home to a sizeable Hispanic population. Immigrant vendors sell their art and more at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
But there’s more. The poems are printed in Spanish and in English. I can’t read Spanish. (My second daughter can; she’s a former Spanish medical interpreter and translator.) That doesn’t matter. What matters is that each poem is printed in two languages, reflecting, respecting and celebrating cultural diversity in our region of southern Minnesota.
The merchandise inside Mercado Local, including this woven tote, is a colorful, visual delight. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Rice County Neighbors United aims to raise cultural awareness via events and activities like “Poem in a Bag,” funded by a grant from the Minnesota Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund. The arts have always been a way to connect peoples, to communicate, to inspire and more. Whatever our differences, art is universal, linking us in our humanity.
A portion of the poem, “Streetlight at Night,” and art by Mar Valdecantos. All poems are printed in Spanish and in English. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Poems submitted for this National Poetry Month project cover a range of topics, some specific, others broader. Sunrise, empanadas, children, cancer, loneliness, life, winter, salmon, even a dead mouse, are among the subjects of original poems. I’ve lent several poems for the project.
More cultural offerings at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
And then there is the poetry of renowned poets—Latin American, Cuban, American—selected and submitted as favorite poems. Nature, the mother-child relationship, a white rose and service to others theme these. They, too, are accompanied by art.
Mercado Local is located in the heart of downtown Northfield, just off Division Street. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Art in all its forms is powerful. Rice County Neighbors United recognizes that, celebrating creativity and entrepreneurship at Mercado Local, a marketplace for immigrant vendors and also an art center, community room and education space located at 108 5th Street East in Northfield.
Mercado Local explodes with color. The “Poem in a Bag” box is on the cashier’s counter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“Poem in a Bag” poems are available at Mercado Local and at other Northfield businesses (currently Content Bookstore, Imminent Brewery and radio station KYMN) and at the Northfield Public Library. Valdecantos aims to get poetry boxes into more Northfield businesses. In Faribault, “Poem in a Bag” can be found at Books on Central, a used bookshop run by the Rice County Area United Way.
This is an ambitious undertaking, one Valdecantos hopes to repeat next April during National Poetry Month. She intends to extend this year’s “Poem in a Bag” into May with a poetry reading set for 6:30-8 pm Thursday, May 23, in the community room/art space at Mercado Local. I appreciate all of this. To place poetry in public places, to use art to connect cultures, is truly a welcoming, neighborly gift to our culturally diverse communities.
Just-published, a 116-page anthology featuring the poetry of five Northfield, Minnesota, poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
ON AN APRIL AFTERNOON when gray skies reverberated thunder and unleashed sheets of rain upon parched southern Minnesota, I read their words, table-side lamp pooling light onto pages. It felt right, to cozy under a fleece throw, to immerse myself in the poetry of Becky Boling, Heather Candels, D.E. Green, Steve McCown and Julie A. Ryan on a day meant for sheltering indoors.
Outside the Northfield Public Library during a 2019 celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)
Antiques on 4th in Cannon Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2021)
Youthful memories of grandmothers, homemade ice cream, small towns as they once were and much more flow through the pages. At times I feel as if I’m reading about “the dusty excess of nostalgia” of my life, as Steve McCown writes “In an Antique Store.” His mention of a Tom Thumb toy cash register sends me back to a long ago Christmas. His poems are sparse, yet fully-descriptive in the way of language carefully-culled by a man who taught high school and college English.
An Elvis impersonator performs during Bean Hole Days in Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)
Likewise, Julie A. Ryan, has me reminiscing with “Candy Cigarettes,” the chalky white sticks of fake cigarettes that I, too, “smoked” in the 1960s. Ryan paints with her words, revealing the visual artist side of her creativity. She mentions Van Gogh and painting and also leans into music within her poetry. Especially powerful is her poem, “’68 Comeback Special,” in which she shares about a near-death experience, of almost meeting Elvis. Her final poem, “We Look West,” titles the book, summarizing well the transition of life from sunrise/birth to sunset/death. That themes the anthology, the movement of life from east to west.
Performing at The Contented Cow in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
In her poetry, Becky Boling moves readers through life from playground monkey bars to motherhood to contemplating old age. I am particularly drawn to “Violin Lesson,” in which Boling observes her young son learning to play the violin. From a deep cushioned armchair, she is caught up in the artistry, the beauty, the movement as am I through her observational writing. And then she closes with the emotional thought of not wanting the moment to end, of understanding that some day she will let her son go. As the mother of three, I feel her sadness at the lesson completed. I expect in her 36 years of teaching Spanish and Liberal Arts at Carleton College in Northfield, Boling has observed the movement of young people whose parents let them go to learn and grow their independence.
A southwestern Minnesota prairie sunset between Redwood Falls and Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
D.E. Green, who taught English for 33 years at Augsburg University, has likely seen the same. His poems reflect life and love. Particularly endearing is his poem, “For Becky: Love Sonnet after Neruda,” written for Boling, to whom he’s married. (They also share the position of interim co-poet laureates in Northfield.) His appreciation for and study of Shakespeare show in this love poem, as touching as any love poem I’ve read. “I love you unthinkingly/like a deep breath, a careless yawn, a sigh,” he writes. Beautiful. Green also reflects on his life lived “good enough” and on life during retirement. His poetry should be required reading for anyone closer to west than to east.
My mom lived in a care center, confined to a wheelchair in the end years of her life. I took this photo of her hands about a year before her January 2022 death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2020)
Heather Candels, too, reflects on her passing life in a poem aptly titled “Passing.” But it is “Situation Comedy,” a poem about a 104-year-old woman living in a care center, which elicits an especially emotional reaction from me. I can picture the centenarian shoving her walker (as my octogenarian mom did) to the dining room, then sitting with Grace and Lloyd, whom she secretly calls Grease and Lard. “Something has to be funny about all this,” Candels writes. The former English teacher is a gifted storyteller who brings unexpected emotional lines to her writing.
In “A Sign,” Heather Candels writes about racial injustice via white lilies of the valley and “their colonies spreading underground/roots nurtured by the rich dark soil…” This poem alone is reason enough to buy this anthology. Photo taken in Madison, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2020)
And then there are the poems that touch on tough topics, on social issues, on disparities. Climate change. Evidence in the Nuremberg Trials. Racial injustice. Poetry doesn’t right life. But it opens our minds, causes us to think, reflect, perhaps take positive action as we move from east to west.
Mention poetry and many people likely stop listening. In a way, I understand. To their ears, they hear the stuffy, rhyming, difficult poems of yesteryear. The poems that made no sense to many of us. The poems that had to be read as part of a high school English class.
A close-up of lines in the poem steps along the River Walk in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
While I’m not privy to how poetry is taught today, I do recognize that it’s, overall, much more approachable, at least in Minnesota. We are home to a talented array of poets with their writing published not only in anthologies and literary journals, but also presented in widely-accessible, public ways.
A poem by Patrick Ganey is stamped into the sidewalk near the Northfield Public Library: still winter thaw/tall pines bend, grey sky drops rain/even at midday/a train whistle sounds lonely (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Nearby Northfield, for example, prints poetry into sidewalks. In 2011, the Arts and Culture Commission launched Sidewalk Poetry. Through that annual competition, selected poems are stamped into sidewalks in the historic downtown, along routes to schools and in residential neighborhoods. I always enjoy walking in downtown Northfield and pausing to read poetry. As a poet myself, I appreciate how much this community values this literary art.
This month, National Poetry Month, and into May, Northfield-based nonprofit Rice County Neighbors United is offering “Poem in a Bag.” Submitted original and favorite poems were printed, rolled and placed in poetry boxes (not bags) set out at select Northfield businesses and at the Northfield Public Library. Poems are printed in both English and Spanish and paired with original art by local artists. What a fun idea, to give away poems, perhaps reaching people who would not otherwise read poetry. I’ve submitted several poems for this project.
My poem, “Lilacs,” inspired “Lilacs on a Table,” an oil on linen painting by Jeanne Licari. This was part of an poet-artist collaborative exhibit at Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota ten years ago. Today my poem is part of Northfield’s “Poem in a Bag.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2014)
A portion of a poem by Rob Hardy, former Northfield Poet laureate, in the Northfield Library atrium. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
At the Northfield Public Library, Open Mic Poetry is held monthly in the atrium for poets to share their writing with an appreciative audience. The next event is at 6:30 pm Wednesday, May 8.
Poem steps in Northfield along the River Walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
Northfield also has a poet laureate actively promoting poetry and poetry events within the community. A new laureate will soon be named to replace past laureate Rob Hardy and current interim co-poet laureates Becky Boling and D.E. Green.
This new anthology features the poetry of five Northfield poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
This sidewalk poem in Mankato’s Riverfront Park references the mass hanging of 38 Dakota (plus two) in December 1862 in Mankato. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)
I also have two other recently-released poetry books to read: Broad Wings, Long Legs, A Rookery of Heron Poems in which Minnesota writers (including Larry Gavin of Faribault and many other recognizable poets) contemplate a regional icon, and Songs, Blood Deep by Poet Laureate of Minnesota, Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato. Westerman is Minnesota’s first Native poet laureate and teaches English, humanities and creative writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato, my alma mater.
My poem, posted along the West Mankato Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited & copyrighted photo November 2023)
Mankato is a community rich in poetry. I’ve found poems stamped into concrete at Riverfront Park as part of WordWalk. But it’s a project of the Southern MN Poets Society which really puts poetry out in the community. Through the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride, winning poems are printed on signs and posted along walking and biking trails in Mankato and North Mankato. My poems have been included perhaps half a dozen times—I’ve lost count—with one, “The Mighty Tatanka,” a poem about bison, currently displayed along a trail in West Mankato.
A sampling of poetry books, right, for sale at Books on Central in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Poetry is seemingly everywhere these days, unconfined to the space between book covers. Yet poems printed upon paper remain the primary place to find poetry. I recently picked up a stash of poetry books from my local library. I also perused poetry offerings at Books on Central, a Rice County Area United Way bookshop selling used books in downtown Faribault. In Northfield, independent bookseller Content Bookstore not only sells poetry books, but regularly hosts book signing events with writers, including poets.
An especially thought-provoking poem in Northfield’s Sidewalk Poetry project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
How we access poetry has certainly changed over the years. It is my hope that, even if you think you don’t like poetry, you open your mind to this creative art form. There’s much to be learned about nature, about ourselves, about life through the carefully-selected, sparse words of gifted poets, many of whom call Minnesota home.
FYI: Please check back for a more in-depth look at “Poem in a Bag” and reviews of poetry anthologies referenced in this post. Now, tell me, do you read poetry, have a favorite poem?
In April 2018, this robin huddled in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)
THIS TIME OF YEAR, birds sound louder, their voices amplified. Birds are marking territories, seeking mates. Or perhaps they are announcing their return to Minnesota or their survival of winter, even the mild one of 2023-2024.
A cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)
Cardinals trill. Red-winged blackbirds and robins sing in their distinguishable voices, which I can’t quite describe. But I know them when I hear them.
Red-winged blackbird among dried cattails in a pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2017)
When I step out my backdoor to hang laundry on the clothesline, I hear the morning birdsong, even above the drone of traffic along my busy street. When I walk at the local nature center, I hear birdsong rising from the woods, the marshes, the prairie. To hear birds singing is to hear the refrain of spring.
From the pages of a children’s picture book… Birds announce spring’s arrival in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)
It’s lovely and uplifting and hopeful. And in many ways remarkable. Here are these small feathered creatures singing spring songs that captivate us with their boldness, their melody.
Soon the grass will be lush and long, like a carpet for robins and other birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Each spring, without fail, I find myself listening intently to birdsong as if the song is a new release. In a way, it is. A release from winter’s grip. A release to days that are warmer and greener and teeming with life. Those are the signs, the hopes, of spring in Minnesota.
Jeff Jarvis shows an artifact while talking about the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“WE’RE ALL CONNECTED. We’re all one.” Those closing words by local historian and artist Jeff Jarvis as he ended an hour-long presentation on “The Faribault Dakota” at Books on Central Thursday evening resonate. I’ve long been geographically-connected to Indigenous Peoples, first in my native Redwood County and now in Rice County. But Jarvis’ definition of connection stretches well beyond geography to the connection we all share simply via our humanity.
Jarvis, who is also an artist and graphic designer, handed out this mini guidebook at Thursday’s presentation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Jarvis spoke to a standing room only crowd packed into the Rice County Area United Way used bookstore on Faribault’s Central Avenue. The third speaker in the popular literary event series hosted by the bookshop since its fall opening, his talk was more history than literary. Interest ran high.
My interest in the Dakota traces back to the southwestern Minnesota prairie, where I grew up between the Upper and Lower Sioux Indian Reservations. Today the word “community,” references these homes of the Mdewakanton Dakota. When I moved to Rice County 42 years ago, I moved onto land once inhabited by the Wahpakute Dakota. But it wasn’t until I listened to Jarvis speak that I learned even more about the place I initially called home on the southeastern tip of Cannon Lake west of Faribault.
Long before fur traders and settlers moved to this region of southern Minnesota, the Dakota called this land home, typically living along the area’s lakes and rivers, including the Cannon. I knew this; I’ve attended many presentations on the Dakota by local historians. But I wasn’t aware that the former Ackman Store, the rental home where Randy and I lived for 2 ½ years after our 1982 marriage, was near the site of a trading post opened by fur trader and town founder Alexander Faribault.
Native American artifacts found in Rice County and displayed at the Rice County Historical Society. These are not the artifacts shown by Jarvis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
Jarvis asked me after his presentation whether I saw ghosts while living there. I didn’t. And in a conversation with Lou Ackman, who grew up and lived along Cannon Lake and loaned Indian artifacts for Jarvis to show Thursday evening, I learned that people often searched the Ackmans’ farm fields for artifacts.
When Randy and I moved into Faribault, our geographic connection to Indigenous Peoples continued. We purchased a house below Wapacuta (sic) Park, where we still live today. It was upon this now park land that the Dakota placed their dead, (wrapped in buffalo robes or blankets) upon scaffolding until later burial. Jarvis also shared that the Dakota sometimes suspended wrapped bodies from trees to catch the spirits in the windy hilltop location prior to burial 1-2 years later. I’d never heard this prior to Thursday.
Peace Park, an unmarked Dakota cemetery near Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
But I was aware that Peace Park, a triangle of land near Buckham Memorial Library, is an Indian burial grounds. Jarvis termed it an unfenced and unrecognized cemetery marked by a faith-based WW II monument and nothing indicating this is sacred ground of the Dakota. Several bodies were discovered buried there in 1874, he said, not wanting to delve deeper into that troubling topic at Thursday’s event.
Jarvis covered a lot more in his one-hour presentation. Most I knew. Some I didn’t. I always appreciate learning local history, especially about the 300-400 Dakota who relocated from Cannon Lake to live in elm bark huts and teepees in the area along the Straight River from Division Street to the wastewater treatment plant.
The community of Faribault, Jarvis said, had/has a lot of color and was/is “a beckoning place” to many peoples. He referenced the Indigenous Peoples of yesteryear and the immigrants of today. “We’re all connected. We’re all one,” Jarvis said. He’s right.
One of two rainbows arches over Faribault Thursday evening. (Copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling April 2024)
As I stepped outside the bookshop after Jarvis’ talk, cloudy skies opened to reveal stunning double rainbows—a symbol of promise and of hope. A symbol that we all live under the same sky, that we’re all connected.
A sign in the produce section of a Faribault grocery store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
I’M DRAWN TO SIGNS. Business signs. Roadside signs. Homemade signs. Nearly all signs, except political signage, attract my interest. The campaign signs I can do without, especially those that are in place too early and well beyond allowable time-frames (as in my neighborhood). But I digress.
Perhaps it’s the creative in me that leads my eyes to appreciate the artistry of signs. I consider fonts, color, design, art—all the pieces that come together in conveying a message. Sometimes the individual parts work. Other times, I’m left wondering.
That’s exactly how I felt upon viewing a sign recently in the produce department of a local grocery store. It was the sloth art which caught my eye. I’ve always thought sloths to be ugly-cute. Except for their sharp claws, they appear cuddly. I just want to wrap one in a hug, feel its long, furry arms embracing me.
Considering the hand-drawn grocery store sloth art snagged my interest, the sign accomplished its original intent—to make me look. But I felt confused. What’s the connection between a leaf, twig, bud-eating sloth and vegetables in a produce section? There is none, as far as I can determine. The slow-moving mammal eats neither corn nor Brussels sprouts. I do.
And sloths live in the tropical rainforests of Central and South America, far from the cold and snow of Minnesota, which can feel tropical in the heat and humidity of summer. Sloths can be found in Minnesota hanging on trees inside the Tropical Encounters exhibit at Como Park Zoo and Conservatory in St. Paul. Perhaps Chloe from Como inspired the grocery store artist. Who knows?
Whatever the story behind the produce section sloth sign, I appreciated it. But not enough to purchase corn or Brussels sprouts on this April day in southern Minnesota.
The moon rises while the sun sets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
SUN. EARTH. SKY. MOON.
Monday, April 8, marks the date of much hype, intense interest and eyes focused skyward for an afternoon solar eclipse. Here in Minnesota, we will witness a partial eclipse with the moon covering about 75 percent of the sun around 2 pm.
Solar eclipse glasses overlay a Minnesota Public Radio News article published in the Faribault Daily News. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
But…the weather forecast is for cloudy skies, meaning disappointment for many in Minnesota who hope to view the solar event through special eye wear. I picked up free eclipse glasses at my local library. So I’m set, just in case the cloud cover lifts.
Carleton College in nearby Northfield is also set to celebrate at Goodsell Observatory, where small telescopes will be placed outside the building for solar viewing beginning at noon. That is if the weather cooperates. (Check the website for updates.) The event is open to the public.
The total solar eclipse will cut a diagonal across the country from Texas through Indiana to New York and beyond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
No matter, I expect to notice visible changes in daylight as the moon passes between the sun and earth from 12:45-3:15 pm in Minnesota.
Isaac’s solar system art, created several months before he turned five. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited photo April 2024)
A half hour to the north of my southern Minnesota home, my 5-year-old grandson Isaac likely will be all-a-chatter about the eclipse. He can rattle off facts about the solar system with the knowledge of an expert. Plus he loves art and has created enough solar system drawings to fill a gallery or at least plaster my refrigerator. I expect many other kids share his excitement. And that is a good thing—anytime kids (and adults) get excited about science.
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