Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

With gratitude to my husband on Father’s Day June 19, 2016

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Randy walking along the shore of Lake Erie on a recent road trip to the East Coast.

Randy walks along the shore of Lake Erie on a recent road trip to the East Coast for his son’s graduation from Tufts University.

MY HUSBAND ISN’T ONE to get all gushy, to be right out there with his emotions. He’ll choose the humorous greeting card over the flowery one any day. A bit stoic even at times, not much rattles him.

He’s a great dad and grandpa, in his own reserved way. He’s the calm to a storm, the quiet in the noise, the light in the darkness.

Randy is a gentle spirit, steady and strong. I can count on him. So can his three “kids,” now grown. He’s always been there for all of us, as trite as that may sound. But it’s true.

He’s guided wobbling bikes down sidewalks, waited in hospital emergency rooms, played Monopoly way too often, read Sunday comics with kids sprawled on the living room floor, painted his young daughters’ toenails, repaired kids’ cars, toured college campuses, ironed his son’s college graduation gown…

For 30 years now, Randy has been a dad. A strong, steady and loving one. I am so appreciative of my husband as a father.

Today, when I watch Randy with his first grandchild, I see that same fatherly love extending to the next generation. He cradles baby Isabelle with such tenderness that my heart aches. She is deeply loved, just like her mama before her.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Joy pitches farm fresh eggs June 17, 2016

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Eggs

 

WHEN MY FRIEND JOY, whose name matches her joyful personality, approached me after church last Sunday about buying farm fresh eggs, I hesitated. I didn’t really need eggs. And if I did, I could buy them at the grocery store for half the $2 price Joy was charging.

 

Chickens, coop

 

But I bought the eggs anyway, because, well, Joy is a persuasive saleswoman. She touted the better taste, the yellower yolks, the free-range aspect of her primarily bug-eating and grass-munching chickens, and the reduction in her cholesterol from daily consumption of her chickens’ eggs. Sold. Yes, please, I’ll take a dozen.

 

Chickens, black chicken

 

I have yet to try the eggs, which come from varieties like Rock Island and Buff. I am certain Joy spoke the truth in her sales pitch. She’s no snake oil salesman. I can already predict what will follow. The farm fresh eggs will taste so great that I will no longer be able to eat mass-produced eggs packaged for mass public consumption.

 

Chickens, buff colored chicken

 

How about you? Have you eaten and noticed a difference between eggs direct from a small farm vs. those sold by major egg companies?

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In a Minnesota cemetery: Oh, sweet baby, who were you? June 16, 2016

 

Emmanuel Cemetery, Aspelund 169 baby grave marker

 

I’VE TOURED MANY RURAL CEMETERIES. But never have I seen a grave marker that so saddened me as the one I spotted on the edge of the Emmanuel Lutheran Church Cemetery in Aspelund on Sunday afternoon.

 

Emmanuel Cemetery, Aspelund, 172 baby grave & flip flop

 

Smaller than the length of my size eight flip flop, the simple slab of concrete tilted barely above the earth. Inscribed thereon, in cursive, was a single word—Baby.

 

Emmanuel Cemetery, Aspelund 170 baby grave marker close-up

 

Certainly I’ve seen grave markers of many babies. But this one, because of its minimal size and placement under trees along the cemetery boundary and its simplicity of design, caused me to pause. I am a mother and a new grandmother. And I suppose in the humanity of that, thinking of my own love for my daughters, son and granddaughter, I empathized with the grief of such a loss.

A section of the cemetery that lies next to Emmanuel Lutheran Church and next to a field.

A section of the cemetery that lies next to Emmanuel Lutheran Church and a field.

Aged tombstones, which I assume once stood vertically, are now cemented flat into the ground.

Aged tombstones, which I assume once stood vertically, are now cemented flat into the ground.

The names reflect the ethnicity of the immigrant families who settled in the Aspelund area.

The names reflect the ethnicity of the immigrant families who settled in the Aspelund area.

Dates are missing from the in-ground marker of Hans, whom I believe to be an early immigrant.

Dates are missing from the in-ground marker of Hans, whom I believe to be an early immigrant.

A beautiful sheltered gravesite

A beautiful sheltered gravesite for John and Maren.

Love the immigrant names of Johannes and Engeborg. So poetic.

Love the immigrant names of Johannes and Engeborg. So poetic.

As I further explored the cemetery—reading the Scandinavian names, studying tombstones and admiring the meticulously kept grounds—I couldn’t shake the image of that baby’s gravestone. Who was he/she? Who were the parents? Why did he/she die?

Next to this list of rules is a graveyard directory, which we couldn't decipher.

Next to this list of rules is a graveyard directory, which we couldn’t decipher.

Hoping to find answers on a posted cemetery directory, neither my husband or I could figure out how to match names with platted marker locations. So I left, still wondering about this precious baby buried here beneath trees in rural Goodhue County, Minnesota.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Aspelund: More than a southern Minnesota ghost town June 15, 2016

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A lovely sprawling home in Aspelund.

A lovely, sprawling farm home in Aspelund.

TECHNICALLY, ASPELUND is classified as a ghost town by the Goodhue County Historical Society. There’s no longer a post office in this spot along County 1 Boulevard in west central Goodhue County, apparently the reason for the ghost town tag.

The community's church, Emmanuel Lutheran.

The community’s church, Emmanuel Lutheran.

But my observations, and thus definition, of Aspelund differ. People still live here—on at least two farms—and worship here and attend to local government business in the Wanamingo Town Hall.

The area around Aspelund is beautiful Minnesota countryside with a mix of fields and woods, flatland and hills.

The area around Aspelund is beautiful Minnesota countryside with a mix of fields and woods, flatland and hills.

Aspelund doesn’t appear ghost townish to me. Rural, yes.

Making hay on the outskirts of Aspelund.

Working an alfalfa field on the outskirts of Aspelund.

One of two barns in Aspelund.

One of two barns in Aspelund.

Traffic through Aspelund on Sunday afternoon.

Traffic through Aspelund on Sunday afternoon.

On Sunday afternoon, I observed farmers in fields, a youth group meeting in Emmanuel Lutheran Church, and a biker, motorists and farmers passing through this settlement.

Inside Emmanuel Lutheran Church.

Inside Emmanuel Lutheran Church. Local churches centered the community, especially during the days of early settlement.

Places like Aspelund impress upon me their historical and current value in rural Minnesota. Mostly Norwegians settled here to farm the land, to re-establish their lives in a new land of opportunity. I admire their strength and determination. They endured much—poverty, isolation, disease, homesickness and more. They persevered. Just like their descendants who remain 150-plus years later.

The old Wanamingo Township Hall, built in 1862, stands next to the church.

The old Wanamingo Township Hall, built in 1862, stands next to the church.

Aspelund’s ethnic roots are documented in family names on gravestones, in the records of churches like Emmanuel and nearby Holden Lutheran, and in current voter registration rolls.

The current town hall.

The current town hall.

Even the name of the settlement itself, Aspelund, comes from a town in Norway. Oh, how those early immigrants must have missed their homeland. And how their descendants still appreciate the Mother Land today.

Photographed in Aspelund.

Photographed in Aspelund.

FYI: Check back tomorrow as I take you into the Emmanuel cemetery. Click here to read yesterday’s post about Aspelund Winery and Aspelund Peony Gardens.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In rural Aspelund: Passionate about peonies & wine June 14, 2016

These peonies have been growing for seven years now on the Rohl property.

These peonies have been growing for seven years on the Rohl property.

WIND WHIPPED THOUSANDS of past their prime peonies, their crimson, pink and white blossoms dipping, dancing to the rhythm of summer.

Peony fields line both sides of the gravel driveway and spill into the yard near the tasting room.

Peony fields line both sides of the gravel driveway and spill into the yard near the Rohl’s home and wine tasting room.

With temps in the seventies under clear skies, it was a perfect mid-June Sunday afternoon to tour the Aspelund Peony Gardens in west central Goodhue County, just east of Aspelund/northwest of Wanamingo/northeast of Kenyon.

The entry to the small tasting room.

The entry to the small tasting room.

Paired with Aspelund Winery, also owned by Bruce and Dawn Rohl and on the same rural acreage, this makes a great southern Minnesota day trip destination. It’s peaceful and lovely, educational and relaxing. You can learn about peonies and wine while enjoying both with a couple passionate about both.

While strawberry wine is the best-selling wine, my favorite is Neighborhood Apple, the top-selling of the three apple wines.

Strawberry wine is the best-selling wine. But my favorite is Neighborhood Apple, the top-selling of the three apple wines.

While the Rohls have been in the business of growing, hybridizing and selling peonies for awhile, they opened their winery just a year ago—on June 13. A taste-testing of their six wines—three apple, one grape, another elderberry and the sixth, strawberry—made it difficult to choose a favorite. They’re that good. But, after some thought, I’d select Neighborhood Apple as my favorite. It’s their best-selling apple wine, a blend of their apples and apples gathered from neighbors. I like the neighborhood name and concept as much as the wine. The outgoing and welcoming Rohls are the type you’d want as next-door neighbors.

Inside the tasting room, peacock decor prevails, here next to the wine rack.

Inside the tasting room, peacock decor prevails, here next to the wine rack.

Their employee, Anders Lars, is a neighbor, whom I mistook as their son. And, yes, he goes by the Swedish Anders, not Andy. I asked. This is an area proud of its Scandinavian heritage. Bruce’s ancestors, however, trace to France where they were vintners.

So many lovely peonies in multitudes of colors, shapes and scents.

So many lovely peonies in multitudes of colors, shapes and scents.

Interestingly enough, it is memories of Bruce’s grandma’s peonies that led him into the peony business. But not how you would expect. He didn’t like her flopping-over peonies and vowed never to plant peonies. That changed on the day he and Dawn visited Bob Tischler, a now-deceased Faribault peony grower. Bob introduced them to other varieties and the couple left Tischler Peony Garden with 13 plants. And, yes, despite his initial dislike of the flopping-over peony, Bruce now has his grandma’s peony from her Hudson, Wisconsin, garden.

Peony lovers shop and admire the gardens.

Peony lovers shop and admire the gardens.

Today the Rohls grow 150 types of peonies. Visitors peruse the offerings online or visit the farm during bloom season to select specific bushes. Then, in the fall, the plants are divided and customers get their plants. Average cost is $20, with some going as high as $70.

There are rows and rows and rows of peonies.

There are rows and rows and rows of peonies.

Buyers range from grandmothers purchasing plants for family to people beautifying landscapes as they focus on staycations rather than vacations to serious peony lovers, Bruce says.

Bruce's hybridized peonies are growing by the tasting room.

Bruce’s hybridized peonies are growing by the tasting room.

He has hybridized seven peonies, giving them identifying local town names like Aspelund, Wanamingo and Zumbrota. It will be awhile before those are ready to sell, Bruce said, noting the entire process from hybridizing to sale-ready takes about 20 years.

The grapevines grow atop a hill overlooking the countryside.

The grapevines grow next to an aged outbuilding atop a hill overlooking the countryside.

A design engineer by full-time profession, Bruce hopes to some day make the flower and wine business his sole focus. The couple also makes maple syrup and tends their small vineyard of 80 vines in seven varieties of grapes, their 450 elderberry bushes and 150 apple trees.

There are two red wines--Elder-bry (elderberry) and Stra-bry (strawberry).

There are two red wines–Elder-bry (elderberry) and Stra-bry (strawberry).

They are clearly passionate about their peonies and wine. Like the hybridizing of peonies, the couple is also always working on new wines. They hope soon to release a tomato wine that tastes like a Bloody Mary (200 tomato plants are growing on their farm); a cucumber wine flavored with lemons and oranges and with ginger roots; and a fennel wine tasting of black licorice.

Dawn meets with customers who are perusing a peony catalog in the wine tasting room.

Dawn meets with customers who are perusing peony choices in the wine tasting room.

It will be interesting to see what they name these new wines. Dawn explains that Mingo Red, for example, is like a Minnesota hotdish, a mingling of their seven Minnesota cold climate grape varieties.

The memorable symbol of Aspelund Winery.

The memorable symbol of Aspelund Winery.

There’s also a story behind the peacocks featured on the wine labels, in the landscaping and in the cozy tasting room. The Rohls attempted to relocate peacocks from Bruce’s father’s farm two miles away. But the birds didn’t stay at the winery/peony garden, returning on their own to their original home. It’s just as well, Bruce says, noting that he learned after the fact they’ll eat flower blossoms. But it makes for a good story and a memorable winery business graphic.

I couldn't get enough of the peonies, even if most were past peak bloom.

I found some peonies not past peak bloom. Lovely.

And about the proper pronunciation of peonies, I asked the peony experts. The correct pronunciation is pee-a-knees, Dawn said. However, because Minnesotans like their “o’s,” they mostly say pee-oh-knees. And the Rohls are just fine with that.

Even though peony blooming season is wrapping up, you can still order peonies by shopping online or viewing the selections in this three-ring binder in the wine tasting room.

Even though peony blooming season is wrapping up, you can still order peonies by shopping online or viewing the selections in this three-ring binder in the wine tasting room.

FYI: The winery, located at 9204 425th Street, rural Kenyon, is open from noon to 5 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays from April through December 24 (the neighbors have a Christmas tree farm). If you’re traveling Minnesota State Highway 60, watch for the Aspelund road sign onto Goodhue County Road 1 near Bombay. Go a few miles to Aspelund, turn onto County Road 8 and then shortly thereafter onto 425th Street.

There's plenty of deck and patio space for gatherings to sip wine.

You can sip wine outdoors on the patio or deck, in a beautiful park-like setting.

Note that the tasting room is small. But there is plenty of outdoor seating on a patio and deck. The Rohls also welcome guests to explore their beautiful, well-groomed property.

I still found blooms worthy of photographing.

I still found blooms worthy of photographing.

Prime peony blooming season has ended. It’s best to call ahead in the spring/early summer if you want to see these flowers in peak bloom.

The Rohls use their own apples and those of neighbors to make their three wines: Cobblers Knob Medley (Honey Gold, Ida Red and O'Connel Red), Cobblers Knob Gold (Honey Gold apples) and Neighborhood Apple.

The Rohls use their own apples and those of neighbors to make their three wines: Cobblers Knob Medley (Honey Gold, Ida Red and O’Connell Red apples), Cobblers Knob Gold (Honey Gold apples) and Neighborhood Apple.

For more information about the winery, click here.

Peony beds mingle between farm buildings on this lovely rural Goodhue County site.

Peony beds mingle between farm buildings on this lovely rural Goodhue County site.

And click here for info about the peony garden.

BONUS PHOTOS:

My favorite old building on the farm site.

Love this old building on the farm site.

Choosing a favorite peony would be difficult among the 150 varieties.

Choosing a favorite peony among the 150 varieties would be difficult.

This tire swing, with its chain grown into a tree branch, adds simple country charm to the yard.

This tire swing, with its chain grown into a tree branch, adds simple country charm to the yard and peony gardens.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Three phrases I’d like to ban June 13, 2016

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ARE THERE CERTAIN WORDS or phrases that bother you? I mean big time irritate you to the point that you want to shout, DO NOT SAY (WRITE) THOSE WORDS TO ME!

Here are the top phrases/words I would like to ban:

 

Words buck up

 

My husband once advised me to “Buck up!” when I was gasping for air while in the middle of a major asthmatic type attack. I was ill at the time, severely ill, with whooping cough. Rather than suggesting I “Buck up!”, he probably should have been dialing 911. (In his defense, neither of us fully realized the seriousness of the situation.)

Why do I dislike those two words? In my particular instance, no amount of bucking up would solve my medical emergency. This was out of my control. Telling someone to “Buck up!” minimizes their situation/issue/problem. Rather than suggest someone toughen up, how about offering help and/or a solution? Or simply listen.

 

Words awesome

 

How can everything in life be awesome? It is the most overused trendy word. That’s awesome. That’s awesome. That’s awesome. Really?

Rather than apply the worn-out word awesome, which has lost all meaning because of its repetitive use, tell me precisely why something is awesome. Is something awesome because it’s an incredible accomplishment? Is something awesome because it pleases you and solves a problem? Is something awesome because it’s uniquely creative? Use specific words that hold meaning.

 

Words it is what it is

 

I’ve heard these five words spoken in trying situations. These are not words anyone facing or managing a crisis or challenge needs to hear. Why? This dismissive phrase only makes a person feel worse.

Instead, validate an individual’s feelings and then offer support, comfort, encouragement and/or assistance. No one needs to be reminded that a situation is bad; that’s already a known.

Now it’s your turn. Tell me what words/phrases bug you. Or, if you wish, defend usage of the words/phrases I dislike.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The highs & lows of a 3,000-mile road trip June 10, 2016

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Traveling on Interstate 90 somewhere in upstate New York.

Traveling on Interstate 90 somewhere in upstate New York. This is one beautiful state.

MAKING A CROSS COUNTRY road trip isn’t easy. It’s especially grueling when you’re under a schedule with minimal time to stop except for gas, bathroom breaks, and to eat, sleep and pay tolls.

Although we spotted many signs directing us toward New York City, we did not go that way.

Although we spotted many signs directing us toward New York City, we did not go that way.

Despite the challenges, there’s a certain sense of adventure and accomplishment in completing a long-distance journey. It’s a great way to see the country. My husband and I traveled 3,029 miles on a late May road trip from Minnesota to Massachusetts and back. I’ve already taken you to our destinations of Somerville and Medford.

Ohio is a big state to traverse from west to east. Be ware of state troopers here. They were thick on the Interstate, the highest number we saw in any of the nine states we drove through.

Ohio is a big state to traverse from west to east. Be ware of state troopers here. They were thick on the Interstate, the highest number we saw in any of the nine states we drove through.

Now it’s time to take you other places.

Finally, after 2 1/2 days of travel, we reached Massachusetts.

Finally, after 2 1/2 days of travel, we reached Massachusetts.

But before I do that, here’s a summary of trip highs and lows:

Our room at the Super 8 Motel in Princeton, Illinois, where we met Carl, the desk clerk. See that picture of the Chicago skyline? Carl once worked in the second building from the right. We loved Carl.

Our room at the Super 8 Motel in Princeton, Illinois, where we met Carl, the desk clerk. See that picture of the Chicago skyline? Carl once worked in the second building from the right. We loved Carl. The quiet room overlooked a field and the John Deere dealership. Total cost: $66.81.

Highlights:

Road construction was expected. Everywhere.

Road construction was expected and endured. Everywhere.

Lowlights:

  •  Road construction.
  •  Toll booths.
  •  Too many dead deer along the Interstates, especially in Pennsylvania with New York coming in second.
  •  Hotels that allow smoking.
  •  A less than welcoming Illinois hotel clerk who refused to give us an AARP discount because the hotel “had met its quota for the night.” I’ve  never heard  of this before. We didn’t believe him and left. He had a bad overall attitude.
  •  Cleaning an apartment kitchen used by college students.
  •  Getting lost in a really bad part of Buffalo, New York, for 1 ½ hours.
  •  Crazy and dangerous drivers in Buffalo.
  •  Failing to see Niagra Falls once we reached the general falls area only to encounter road construction and no directions how to get to the American side of the falls.
  •  Morning rush hour in Hartford, Connecticut, on a rainy Monday.
  •  Nearly being hit head-on when a vehicle crossed the center line on a state highway in Iowa.
  •  Too many miles (600 driven one day) and not enough sleep.

FYI: Check back next week as I showcase specific places from our trip.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A Minnesotan’s impression of Davis Square in Somerville June 9, 2016

Banners mark Davis Square in Somerville, Massachusetts.

Banners mark Davis Square in Somerville, Massachusetts.

UP UNTIL RECENTLY, I was unfamiliar with squares. Not as in geometric shapes, but as in a geographical location in a city. When my son, who lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, would talk about Davis, Harvard and Porter Squares, I pictured a park-like setting centering cultural events.

A streetscape in Davis Square.

A streetscape in Davis Square.

Well, a square is not exactly or solely that. Rather, the two squares I visited (Davis and Porter) recently are the convergence of about a half-dozen streets with businesses surrounding them. These seem city versions of small town Main Streets with a mix of retail, restaurants, professional, service and entertainment oriented businesses and nonprofits packed into a compact area.

A biker squeezes around a bus in busy Davis Square.

A biker squeezes around a bus in busy Davis Square.

Sure, there’s a bricked area with picnic and patio tables, benches, trees and art in Davis Square. But lacking are the lawn, abundance of flowers and water features I expected. Hard surfaces handle the heavy pedestrian, bike and vehicle traffic that make this place visually chaotic for a rural Minnesotan like me.

A snapshot of pedestrian traffic.

A snapshot of pedestrian traffic.

When my husband, son and I—all native Minnesotans—waited for the “walk” signal to cross a street, we found ourselves standing alone while others hurried around us, intent on getting wherever they were going. Pedestrians obviously rule here. People just step right in front of vehicles, seemingly oblivious that they could be struck. That, more than anything, scared me during a recent trip to greater Boston.

Mass transit is a necessity in this densely populated metro area.

Mass transit is a necessity in this densely populated metro area.

As for the converging streets in the square, you better know where you’re driving. Sort of like roundabouts but not, these intersections are confusing to someone unfamiliar with the streets and how the traffic pattern works. I understand why public transportation, available at the squares, is the preferred way of getting around.

On a beautiful late May afternoon, we chose to dine outside The Boston Burger Company.

On a beautiful late May afternoon, we chose to dine outside The Boston Burger Company.

That all said, I enjoyed people-watching in Davis Square where the three of us dined at The Boston Burger Company late on a Monday afternoon.

The 420 burger was way too thick to fit in my mouth.

The 420 burger was way too thick to fit in my mouth.

I ordered the 420 burger (mozzarella sticks, fried mac & cheese, onion rings, fries, bacon, golden BBQ sauce and American cheese) available at 4:20 for $4.20.

That sandwich board would be for a burger.

That sandwich board would be for a burger.

And, yes, 420 was explained to me as I was totally clueless that it references cannabis. Anyone who knows me well would also be surprised that I actually ate a burger.

My son let me sample his King burger. I loved it. And the beans were great, too. Authentic Boston baked perhaps?

My son let me sample his The King burger. I loved it. And the beans were great, too. Authentic Boston baked perhaps?

The husband, as I expected, ordered his predictable burger, one topped with blue cheese. The son chose The King, a burger featuring peanut butter, bacon and a fried banana dusted in cinnamon and sugar. It was delicious.

I regret not taking the time to step inside this theatre.

I regret not taking the time to step inside this theatre.

I’d highly recommend dining outside The Boston Burger Company across from the Somerville Theatre for a front row seat to people-watching. I was thoroughly entertained.

Most cyclists take biking safety seriously. And they should given the heavy vehicle traffic.

Most cyclists take biking safety seriously. And they should given the heavy vehicle traffic.

The list of characters was ever-changing. From the inebriated man whom we worried was about to pee in public, to the young man dribbling a basketball, to the cyclist businessman with his pants legs rolled up to the woman with crimson hair to the chain of daycare kids to the man shouting to himself, I could have penned a dozen stories prompted by the people I saw.

I noticed lots of kids with their parents when I was at Davis Square.

I noticed lots of kids with their parents when I was at Davis Square.

One thing was particularly noticeable to me. With the exception of parents and their kids, I noticed few people interacting. It was as if all these individuals crossing Davis Square were in their own little worlds, en route to wherever they needed to be. The pace was hurried. The scene reminded me of the ants in the Ant Hill Farm my oldest brother had as a kid.

This is the most unusual cyclist I saw with his son riding in front.

This is the most unusual cyclist I saw.

I understand that those who frequent this area may not view Davis Square as I did on a late Monday afternoon in late May. And that’s OK. I was, after all, simply a visitor from Minnesota not widely-traveled outside the Midwest.

BONUS ART PHOTOS:

This colorful art creatively disguises a utility box. I love this type of street art.

This colorful art creatively disguises a utility box. I love this type of street art.

One of two sculptures I spotted.

One of two sculptures I spotted. The bronze masks on the Davis Square sculptures were installed after the original sculptures were vandalized. The sculptures are based on actual people who lived in the Square area.

I spotted this sign while dining, but then forgot to check out the park once I finished my burger.

I spotted this sign while dining, but then forgot to check out the park once I finished my burger.

Lucky for us, there was room to park in one of the public parking lots late on a Monday afternoon.

Lucky for us, there was room to park in one of the public parking lots late on a Monday afternoon. That’s where I photographed the colorful car art.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Exploring a greater Boston neighborhood from a Minnesotan’s perspective June 8, 2016

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Porches front mostly well-kept houses in the neighborhood near Powder House Square and Tufts University.

Porches front well-kept houses in the neighborhood near Powder House Square.

WELCOMING FRONT PORCHES grace nearly every home in the neighborhood where my son lives in Somerville, Massachusetts near Tufts University.

Balconies or enclosed porches extend from most second floors.

Balconies or enclosed porches extend from most second floors.

Likewise, second floor balconies front nearly every home.

Perennials were in bloom in many yards when I visited in late May.

Perennials were in bloom in many yards when I visited in late May.

Both are necessities in a neighborhood with minimal green space, not enough to call a lawn or a yard by Minnesota standards. I would be surprised if many homeowners have lawnmowers. Bushes, plants and even artificial turf fill the slim lines of land between houses and sidewalks.

I noticed signs like this around Powder House Square.

I noticed signs like this around Powder House Square. Words printed in the blue circle read: “Municipal Freedom Gives National Strength, Somerville, Mass.”

There are no boulevards. Narrow sidewalks trace next to the street. Asphalt circles trees. The lack of land, of space between homes, is especially evident to me, a rural Minnesotan used to lots of elbow room. Everything feels cramped in this neighborhood of old homes.

The most colorful house I spotted in the neighborhood.

The most colorful house I spotted in the neighborhood.

Noticeably absent are FOR SALE signs on these mostly three-story aged houses, many of them parceled into apartments. Up until recently, my son was paying $850/month rent for the second and third floors of a house apartment shared with three other college students. He’s now subleasing a place nearby for $700/month for the summer.

I was delighted to find a Little Free Library near my son's apartment.

I was delighted to find a Little Free Library near my son’s apartment.

A local noted that houses in the neighborhood are passed down from generation to generation. He lives in his in-law’s house; they live in Florida. I suspect families are hesitant to sell because such a decision means they could never afford to live here again.

A lot of the homes have this barn roof design.

A lot of the homes have this barn roof design.

Most of the homes in this area between Tufts and Powder House Square are similar in design. The barn-like roof lines present a comforting, welcoming and homey appearance. At least to me, a farm-raised woman.

Residential streets in my son's neighborhood are one-way. I can't fathom how residents managed in the recent winter of record snowfall.

Residential streets in my son’s neighborhood are one-way. I can’t fathom how residents managed in the recent winter of record snowfall.

But I didn’t feel welcome here when I learned that my husband and I couldn’t park our van on the street in front of our son’s apartment for three days without a permit. After driving nearly 1,500 miles from Minnesota, parking rules were the last thing I wanted to encounter. But I suppose such regulations are necessary given the lack of space in neighborhoods. Residents are discouraged from owning a second vehicle. Parking is a challenge in this densely populated area.

Miscellaneous whatever on the back of a street sign by Powder House Square.

Miscellaneous whatever on the back of a street sign by Powder House Square.

The son reminded me several times that “It’s not like in Minnesota where you can drive right up to a store.” Or someone’s house. Many residents rely on their own two feet, bikes or public transportation—the “T” or the bus—to get them places.

Could I live in the Boston metro? Maybe if I was 20-something. But now? No. I need space.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Walking around the Tufts’ neighborhood the day after graduation June 7, 2016

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Art on a utility box by campus.

Art on a utility box by campus.

THE MORNING AFTER MY SON’S recent graduation from Tufts University in Medford/Somerville, Massachusetts, life was back to normal.

 

Snapshots, 331 construction workers in Medford, MA.

 

Construction workers labored on a campus building project while a police officer stood nearby to stop traffic if needed. His Boston accent matched every preconceived notion I held of a Boston accent. Thick. Unpronounced “r’s.” Perfect Boston diction to my Minnesota ears.

 

Snapshots, 334 watering dog in Meford, MA.

 

On this Monday morning while my son attended appointments, my husband and I walked around his neighborhood and lunched at a campus coffee shop on a busy street corner. I people-watched. The construction workers. The cop. A young woman who pulled a water bowl and water bottle from her backpack to hydrate her dog on a street corner.

 

Snapshots, 338 congrats on house in Somerville, MA.

 

After lunch we walked around the neighborhood, skirting smelly garbage cans on the narrow sidewalk while also surveying the broken furniture, rolled rugs and assorted goods emptied from college students’ apartments. Parents filled car trunks and U-Hauls. A college co-ed carried boxes from campus to a new off-campus apartment.

 

Snapshots, 343 scavenging Somerville, MA.

 

And, in the street, a woman rolled a cart bulging with can-filled garbage bags and assorted loot from all the graduation parties the day prior.

 

Snapshots, 337 grad napkin on ground Somerville, MA.

 

I noted the residue of those celebrations—a stray napkin, a congrats banner stretching across a porch, a commencement banner still hanging from a post.

 

Snapshots, 349 carvimg on tree

 

And, etched into the bark of a hillside tree, I noticed names. Knifed there by college students, I suppose. Not just this year. But through the years.

 

Snapshots, 346 house on hill Medford, Ma.

 

The day sparkled with the kind of light that is bright and sharp and new, as in this is spring, your kid has finished college, new.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling