Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Autumn searches for water, at least in Minnesota September 30, 2024

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Parched, cracked earth by the Turtle Pond, River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2021, used for illustration only)

IN AN AUTUMN WHEN RAIN REMAINS elusive and drought once again settles upon Minnesota, I am reminded of a poem I penned 14 years ago for a competition. “In which Autumn searches for Water” was among 28 pieces of prose and poetry published in “It’s All One Water,” a collaboration between the Zumbro Watershed Partnership and Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota.

The invitation to the 2012 “It’s All One Water” reception and group show in Zumbrota.

The winning entries were printed in a beautiful 55-page booklet that paired the writing with submitted photos, all themed to water. I opted to pen a poem personifying Autumn as a woman searching for water upon the parched land. To this day I still love that strong visual, inspired by my long ago observations at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault.

And if I were to tap further into my visual memory, I would also see a semi trailer full of hay parked in a southwestern Minnesota farmyard in the summer of 1976. That was a year of severe drought, when my dad bought a boxcar full of hay from Montana so he could feed his cows and livestock. It was the year that nearly broke him as a farmer.

A REALLY DRY & WARM SEPTEMBER IN MINNESOTA

Here we are, 48 years later, settling once again into drought/abnormally dry weather conditions in Minnesota after a winter of minimal snow followed by an excessively wet spring, a dry-ish summer and now a record warm and dry September. This September, the Twin Cities recorded only 0.06 inches of rain and the most days of 80-degree or warmer high temps in any September. It doesn’t feel like fall in Minnesota, more like summer. But at least temperatures cool overnight.

Areas of western and central Minnesota are under a Red Flag Warning today, code words for a high fire danger, due to dry, windy conditions and dropping relative humidity. We are experiencing “near critical fire weather conditions” here in the southern part of the state.

AND THEN THERE’S TOO MUCH WATER

Contrast this with the weather my friends in western North Carolina and other areas affected by Hurricane Helene are experiencing. One is OK (as is her house). But she expects to be without power for a week and is relying on limited cell service at the local firehall. Another friend, a native Minnesotan, lost his car and may lose his home in Hendersonville after a creek swelled, flooding his garage (with four feet of water) and house (30 inches of floodwaters). A foundation wall “blew out” of his home. He is currently staying with family in Florida.

So, yes, even though the lack of rain and abnormally warm weather in Minnesota concern me, I feel a deeper concern for the folks dealing with loss of homes, businesses, infrastructures and, especially, deaths of loved ones. The devastation is horrific. It will take months, if not years, to recover.

RESPECT FOR WATER & MY POEM

In 2012, the following statement published in the intro to “It’s All One Water”: It is our hope to inspire respect, protection, preservation and awe in honor of water, our most precious of Natural Resources. How one views water right now depends on where they live. But I think we can all agree that water is “our most precious of Natural Resources.”

Autumn leaves in the Cannon River, Cannon River Wilderness Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2021)

In which Autumn searches for Water

Water. The wayward word rises in a faint rasp,

barely a whisper above the drone of buzzing bees

weaving among glorious goldenrods.

I strain to hear as Autumn swishes through tall swaying grass,

strides toward the pond, yearning to quench her thirst

in this season when Sky has remained mostly silent.

But she finds there, at the pond site, the absence of Water,

only thin reeds of cattails and defiant weeds in cracked soil,

deep varicose veins crisscrossing Earth.

She pauses, squats low to the parched ground and murmurs

of an incessant chorus of frogs in the spring,

of Water which once nourished this marshland.

Autumn heaves herself up, considers her options

in a brittle landscape too early withered by lack of rain.

Defeat marks her face. Her shoulders slump. She trudges away, in search of Water.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

© Copyright 2012 “In which Autumn searches for Water” by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating my birthday with history & art September 27, 2024

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

NOT EVERYONE WOULD CELEBRATE a birthday by exploring historic ruins and then capping the day by creating art within an historic context. But then I am not everyone.

This week, on my closing-in-on-seventy birthday, I took a day trip to Wasioja and neighboring Mantorville. Randy and I packed our picnic lunches and then hit the road east in late morning. No need to rush and get going too early at our ages.

After a brief stop at a Kenyon thrift shop, which smelled strongly of natural gas, we made a quick exit. But not before warning the shopkeeper that he needed to check on the odor immediately. And don’t turn on a light switch, although the lights were already on, we advised. (The shop was still standing on our return route home.)

Blueberry pie. not from County Seat Coffee Shop. I didn’t photograph that pie piece. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

GOING BACK IN TIME

I digress. In Wasioja, we discovered aged ruins and historic buildings, many connected to Minnesota’s involvement in the Civil War. I was aware of the Civil War recruiting station, but not some of the other sites. I’ll write more on our visits to Wasioja and Mantorville in future posts.

However, I should note now that Randy and I enjoyed slices of homemade blueberry and strawberry/rhubarb pie at County Seat Coffeehouse in Mantorville. It was, after all, my birthday. No sweet treat awaited me at home.

Back home by late afternoon with me feeling a bit tired after being on my feet all day (remember that broken right toe, which makes walking a tad more challenging), I put my feet up. Randy napped.

A promo for a 2022 talk by Mica Anders at the RCHS. (Promo credit of RCHS)

STEPPING BACK IN TIME WITH MICA ANDERS

And then, less than two hours later, we were off to the Rice County Historical Society for an interactive historical presentation by St. Paul genealogist and artist Mica Lee Anders. She was presenting on early (1850-1900) African American residents of Rice County. I’m always up to learning more about the history of this place I’ve called home for 42 years.

Anders made the entire event hands-on engaging by asking attendees to create flower mosaics that will honor the legacies of early African Americans. The flowers will be installed as public art at gravesites in Faribault and Northfield.

Not being especially artistic beyond creating with a camera and with words, I felt initially tentative about the whole idea. But Anders quickly put me at ease, explaining how to go about the process of creating mosaic flowers from glass tiles. We grabbed cupcake tins then scooped tiles in assorted shapes (mostly round) and colors (blues, greens, oranges and yellows) into individual holders. From there, we designed within a donut shape printed on paper. Later, we would transfer our designs onto sticky mesh.

As a perfectionist, I sorted my tiles by size and color before beginning to create. Part of me wanted to pause and take notes on everything Anders was sharing. But art won over being a journalist for the evening. I created. I listened. I asked questions. But I didn’t jot down a single word.

I heard about the success of those early African Americans who lived here. The barber. The young man who would become a doctor. The college grad. But I learned, too, of efforts to hide racial identity. Yet, races intermarried. And, said, Anders, Faribault was a welcoming place to those African Americans who settled here early on. To hear that pleased me greatly. Faribault has not always been a welcoming place for people of color.

The flower mosaic I created. Anders will finish the work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

CONNECTING HISTORY & ART

Anders’ passion for history, genealogy and honoring the legacies of African Americans in southeastern Minnesota via her research and now her public art project coursed through the meeting room where a small group of us created colorful mosaics. It felt good to be part of something like this, a tangible way to honor those who came before us, who likely faced more struggles than I will ever know.

My mosaic was well thought out. I don’t usually randomly do anything. I used orange and yellow tiles in the outer two rings of my flower to represent the sun. The next ring featured blue round tiles representing the sky—dark blue for stormy days, lighter shiny blue for happier days. I finished my flower with an inner ring of green tiles representing the earth, growth, place.

The birthday cards I received, displayed on a vintage family dresser in my dining room. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

THANKFUL

Thus I began another year of life. Learning. Creating art. Honoring. Celebrating. And feeling incredibly thankful for all the people who care about me. From greeting cards to an audio message, from texts to emails to calls (including a singing of “happy birthday”), I feel cherished and loved.

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FYI: Mica Anders will host more workshops in Rice County (including in Northfield) to talk about early African Americans in southeastern Minnesota and to create flower mosaics. I encourage you to participate. Her project was made possible in part by Springboard for the Arts’ Rural-Urban Solidarity Initiative.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Smokey the Bear still igniting fire prevention in Minnesota & beyond September 25, 2024

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Smokey the Bear is incorporated into interpretive signage at Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower Park by Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

FOR 80 YEARS, Smokey the Bear has delivered the same core message of fire prevention. In 2001, the US Forest Service updated Smokey’s long-running “Remember, only you can prevent forest fires” to “Only you can prevent wildfires.” But YOU has always centered Smokey’s directive to all of us. We, yes, we, hold a responsibility to prevent wildfires.

This interpretative sign at the fire tower park reminds visitors of who causes fires and their responsibility to prevent them. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

That’s important to remember as Smokey celebrates his 80th year of igniting fire prevention efforts on a national scale. He officially turned 80 on August 9, marking the longest running public service campaign in the country. Who doesn’t like, and recognize, Smokey the Bear? And remember his message to us about fire.

Smokey, before he morphed into an anti-fire campaign spokes-bear, was a real bear. A cub injured and orphaned in a 1950 New Mexico wildfire. That’s the story anyway.

I admit I didn’t think all that much about wildfires until recent years, when smoke-hazed skies began occasionally blanketing Minnesota. Even here in southern Minnesota, the smoke from Canadian and western wildfires sometimes affects air quality. When I hear and see media reports about wildfires out West, I wonder how people manage to breathe, how they cope with the ongoing threat of fire, the death and destruction.

The Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower stretches high among the pines. It is no longer used to spot fires. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

We’re not immune here in Minnesota, with most wildfires centered in the northern forested regions of our state. But occasionally, the Twin Cities metro and other areas experience out-of-control fires. Early this past March, for example, firefighters battled a massive blaze near Waseca (25 miles southwest of Faribault) that destroyed nearly 2,000 acres and injured three. Smokey’s cautionary words need to be heeded by all of us no matter where we live.

Visitors can climb the 100-foot high Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower and other fire towers in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

I am most cognizant of fire, though, when staying at a family member’s cabin in the Brainerd Lakes area. Dense pine forests, scrub grass, dried pine needles and more seem sufficient fuel for a wildfire. There are no campfires on windy days. Not for Randy and me.

This sign is posted along Crow Wing County Highway 3 south of Crosslake in Mission Township. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Then there’s Smokey, or at least a Smokey the Bear sign along Crow Wing County Road 3 south of the cabin by the Mission Township Hall and Fire Station 1. The sign ranks the daily fire danger and also advises that burning permits are required in the area.

Inside this gift bag are tiny plastic bears for the taking in honor of Smokey’s 80th birthday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

During a recent visit, I noticed more. Smokey held a HAPPY BIRTHDAY gift bag with an attached note to “Help yourself to a tiny bear!” I reached inside the bag and pulled out a tiny blue plastic bear and a tiny green bear for my grandchildren. Later, I schooled them about Smokey the Bear and wildfires. They loved the mini bears.

Birthday wishes for Smokey. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

A hand-printed “Happy 80th Smokey” paper sign also hangs below Smokey’s feet, partially covering PREVENT WILDFIRES. Smokey is celebrating his birthday throughout 2024. He’ll be in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, at the lighting of the US Capital Christmas Tree…

A vendor grabs lunch and settles in next to a bear mount he’s selling at a barn sale in rural Medford several years ago. Live bears were seen near Medford, south of Faribault, this past summer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Like the injured cub of the 1950 New Mexico wildfire, bears roam the woods of central and northern Minnesota and sometimes venture south. A bear was spotted at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault and farther south this past summer.

Scat identified as from a bear cub. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Before leaving the cabin recently, Randy found berry-laced scat along the driveway that looked suspiciously like bear poop. I sent a photo to my brother-in-law. Jon confirmed this was scat from a cub. A mama bear and three cubs were sighted at the cabin in June, certainly not the first bear sightings in the Crosslake area. I wasn’t surprised by Randy’s discovery, although unsettled. I like the imaginary 80-year-old Smokey the Bear. But if I encountered a real Smokey, I doubt I would pause to wish him a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Nope, I’d pretty much be outta there.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lost somewhere among the jack pines of northern Minnesota September 23, 2024

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Once we got west of Pine River, we were driving in unfamiliar territory. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I FOLLOWED THE PRINTED directions as the phone squawked them aloud. We were about 15 miles west of Pine River, turning off County Road 2 (in whatever county) onto Minnesota State Highway 64.

My eyes moved down the paper, scanning for the next turn after three miles on the state highway. Take a left onto 12th St SW, Randy had written. He jotted the directions just for me because he knows I like the route mapped on paper.

“I hope it’s not gravel,” I said, noting the street, not county road, wordage

No sooner had the words popped from my mouth than the phone directed us left onto 12th Street. Randy steered off the highway. Onto gravel. Then the phone ceased barking. Our cell service had dropped.

Randy stopped the van after I protested. “I don’t want to drive on 7.3 miles of gravel.” I’d read ahead on the directions, noted the distance and noted the next two turns, onto Huntersville and Hubbard Roads. Probably more gravel.

If only we’d gone old school and relied on an atlas or a paper map. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

“Let’s just look at a map and figure out where to go,” I said, reaching for the glove box. No map. Randy had failed to transfer maps from our old van into the new-to-us used van we bought earlier this summer. I asked about an atlas, which we sometimes carry with us. Nope, that would be in my office.

So there we were, in the middle of nowhere in an unfamiliar area of northern Minnesota. No cell service. No map. No atlas. No anything except understanding that we needed to head northwest to reach our destination, Jack Pines Resort a mile outside of Osage. By that time I was feeling stressed. I had a book launch party to reach by 1 pm. I can’t even tell you what time it was at that point, except time to get moving.

Randy swung the van around, got back onto the northbound state highway, then took the next westbound asphalt road. I thought we were back on track…until the road began to curve, then straighten, then curve. Mile after mile after mile for perhaps 20-plus miles. Speeds dropped, sometime as low as 25 mph. We were not making good time. I was not a happy wife. Or a happy writer.

Eventually we reached our destination, Osage, shown here in the center of an atlas map. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Eventually, spotty cell service returned, long enough to open my email and read directions to the resort sent by the book event organizer. I felt my body relax. We might make it on time. And we did. With 10 minutes to grab name tags, pee and settle onto comfy chairs in the back row.

So what did we learn? You cannot rely on cellphone directions, especially in a no-cell-coverage-middle-of-nowhere-location. Always write down directions. Check that the planned route does not include gravel. And carry a paper map in your glove box. Had we done all of those things, I would not have been a stressed wife who was mad at her husband. But at least I wasn’t a stressed writer worried about reading her work aloud at the book launch party. I was too distracted by the stress of being lost.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An unexpected refrain of a pop hit September 20, 2024

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My booted right foot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

OOPS!…I DID IT AGAIN. The title of Britney Spears’ 2000 hit fits the latest verse in my life song. Nothing else about the song relates, only the title.

Late Wednesday afternoon, while skirting a tower fan partially blocking my home office doorway, I stubbed my right little toe on the door frame. Hard. Like I may have heard a crack hard. Instant pain shot through my toe as a censored version of “Oops!…I did it again” shot from my mouth.

I knew this was not good. I hobbled my way toward the kitchen where Randy was preparing supper. And, yes, I still call the evening meal supper. “I think we have to go to the clinic,” I said, explaining why. I don’t recall Randy’s reaction other than informing me he was half-way into cooking our meal so the urgent care visit would need to wait. One plate of broiled salmon, seasoned potatoes and orange slices later, we were heading for the clinic.

Two years ago I severely bruised the little toe on my left foot and wore this boot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2022)

But not before I asked Randy to search the back of our bedroom closet for a walking shoe. You see, almost exactly two years ago, I jammed my left little toe into the baseboard corner of our kitchen peninsula. That time I severely bruised my little toe. “Oops!…I did it again.” Except with the right foot.

Upon arriving at the clinic, I limped inside, waited in line to register and then sat down in the waiting area. It was 6:05 pm. I propped my injured foot atop a round coffee table to keep it elevated. I worked a crossword puzzle. A text message alerted me that I was seventh in line. I noted the worn out furniture, the stale air, daylight shifting into evening.

I am not good at waiting. Multiple texts were not encouraging. There were “unexpected delays,” the apologetic messages read. My appointment time shifted from 7:10 to 7:20 to 7:50. I was not happy.

My eldest daughter texted at 7:18 pm. “How’s your toe?”

“Still waiting at the clinic. I should have stayed home,” I replied. “Too many coughing people here. Toe hurts & starting to turn purple.”

Shortly thereafter, a nurse called my name. Finally. I was getting my vitals taken, getting quizzed about my injury and on my way to answers. That meant a trip upstairs to x-ray. I accepted a wheelchair ride. Much quicker and less painful than limping along. Three x-rays later and I was back in my room awaiting an official diagnosis.

This time around I did not have a badly-bruised little toe, but rather a fractured one. Officially: There is an undisplaced fracture present along the distal aspect of the 5th proximal phalanx. Undisplaced is better than displaced. That diagnosis was confirmed on Thursday by a podiatrist, whom I will see in four weeks for more x-rays and a healing check. In the meantime, I’ll wear that unattractive sandal-like shoe with the rigid bottom, tape my little toe to its neighboring toe, ice, elevate and pop OTC meds as needed.

A broken toe is certainly not a major injury when the fracture is simply a crack not requiring surgery. I’ve broken a shoulder and shattered a wrist (that requiring a surgical implant). There really is no comparison. This toe break is more of a tolerable inconvenience.

Yet…the timing is bad. Is any time ever good to break a bone? Probably not. But my eldest and I are co-hosting a baby shower for my second daughter this weekend. A niece is getting married in eight days and that includes a wedding dance. I have things to do. Enter Randy. I made a list of jobs for him to do, work I would typically handle such as carting laundry up and down the basement stairs. If I could read his thoughts, they are likely an updated version of Britney Spears’ song, rewritten as “Oops!…here we go again.”

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Latest “Talking Stick” anthology publishes & I’m in, again September 19, 2024

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I couldn’t resist posing with Paul Bunyan at Jack Pines Resort following a book launch party there on September 14. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

FOR 33 YEARS NOW, a writing group in northern Minnesota has published Talking Stick, a literary anthology packed with poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. It features not only the writing of well-known Minnesota writers, but also that of emerging writers. And that says a lot about this book published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc based in the Park Rapids area.

Getting published in this anthology is a competitive process with blind-judging. The judges—this year a university English professor and writer, a writer who moved to Minnesota for a rural artist-in-residency, and the author of a cozy mystery series—have no idea whose work they are considering for honors. The Jackpine editorial team chooses their top pieces to pass along to the judges for review and awards.

There were 280 submissions from 121 Minnesota writers or writers with a strong connection to our state in the 2024 writing competition. Of those, 113 works from 72 writers were published. That includes 63 poems, 22 creative twist pieces, 15 creative nonfiction stories and 13 fictional stories.

Me with author and fiction judge Jeanne Cooney, right. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

My short story, “Dear Mother,” earned second place in fiction as decided by author Jeanne Cooney. She’s written “A Hot Dish Heaven Mystery” series and has launched a new “It’s Murder” series. Did my mention of Hamburger Noodle Hotdish and red Jell-O salad in my story influence Cooney’s decision? I’d like to think not, but I suppose subconsciously it could have. When I wrote my short story, though, I had no idea who would be judging the fiction category. Hotdish simply fit into the storyline.

The beginning of my prize-winning fictional story, “Dear Mother.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Cooney called “Dear Mother” a “Very good story. But needs to be clearer.” She was right. Her comments helped me shape a stronger, better piece of writing. Dark writing. Mine is a story that begins seemingly ordinary enough, wrapping up in a surprise ending. Or rather an inferred dark ending.

Congratulations to everyone whose work published in “Talking Stick 33.” Those include readers of this blog. Thanks also to Managing Editors Sharon Harris and Tarah L. Wolff for their ongoing dedication to the craft of writing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Last Saturday afternoon, I gathered with other writers and supporters for a party launching publication of Talking Stick 33—Earth Signs at Jack Pines Resort (no connection to the writers’ group) in rural Osage, a four-hour drive from Faribault. The event included a writing workshop (which I did not attend), book reading and socializing.

I’m not especially comfortable reading to a roomful of people, even though I’ve done so many times. But I practiced and then read “Dear Mother” with dramatic inflections and soft tones in just the right spots, managing to convey exactly what I wrote. There’s something to be said for hearing a poem or story read aloud. The piece comes alive via the voice of the writer.

As I listened to all these writers, I felt a strong sense of community. I felt encircled by a group of incredibly talented and supportive creatives. People who care about language and emotion and damn good writing.

My collection of “Talking Stick” books. I’ve been published in 15 of these 16 volumes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

This marks the 15th consecutive year my writing has published in Talking Stick. A poem, “Misunderstood,” and a work of creative nonfiction, “Lessons Inside the Dome,” were also selected for publication in the 2024 volume. Both are Faribault-rooted. My poem focuses on the connection between the Wahpekute and today’s homeless population living in woods along the Straight River. In “Lessons,” I write about walking inside the Shattuck-St. Mary’s School dome during the winter and lessons I learned there.

My writing is often rooted in experiences, in observations, in overheard conversations, in memories. I’ve covered everything from farming, to aging to domestic abuse, trauma, Minnesota Nice and more. Writing prompts have come from a vintage family photo, a sign on a barbershop window in Northfield, a painting by Andy Warhol… There are stories everywhere.

I’m grateful to the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc for repeatedly choosing my work for publication in Talking Stick. That includes 15 poems, 10 short stories, nine creative nonfiction stories and two creative twist stories (written using a list of pre-selected words). I’ve thrice been awarded second place (poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction). I’ve also earned eight honorable mentions (four for fiction, two for creative nonfiction, and one each in poetry and creative twist). Winning those awards is validating to me as a writer.

But just as validating is being among other writers. Writers who appreciate the craft of writing and the hard work it takes to shape a poem or a short story. Writers who understand the importance of word choice. Writers who recognize the power of words. Writers who don’t settle for the mundane, the cliché, the everyday. Writers who will spend several hours together on a glorious September afternoon in the northwoods celebrating the release of Talking Stick, a stellar literary anthology. We have much to celebrate in Minnesota, in this place that produces a remarkable number of talented writers.

FYI: To purchase a copy of “Talking Stick,” click here. Thank you for supporting Minnesota writers.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Train art or graffiti, depending… September 18, 2024

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A dragon (at least that’s what I see) covers an entire boxcar. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

ADMITTEDLY, I POSSESS no understanding of train art. Yet, I appreciate it. Not as the graffiti it is by definition, but rather because I see the images and words as art. A traveling art gallery. I doubt railroad companies would agree.

The traveling gallery parked in Faribault earlier this year. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

Watch any train pass by or view a line of parked box or tanker cars and you likely will see this art form. Whenever I spot this art, I wonder, “How and when do these artists manage to paint these sprawling words and images without getting caught?”

More art/graffiti I don’t understand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

Then I try to decipher the words, which are mostly indecipherable to me. My eyes can’t separate the often over-sized uppercase letters that jam together. Even standing back to read from a distance usually doesn’t help.

Another look at the dragon from a distance and the words I can’t read. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

But occasionally I figure something out and then it’s like a moment of confused clarity. Why this word? Why this art? Why this fiery orange dragon (if that’s really what it is) stretching the length of a boxcar?

An apology. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

For the artist, like any visual artist, there is meaning behind the art. I’m just not privy to the backstory. Sure, some of what I’m seeing could be gang graffiti. But mostly, I expect it is not. And if I view the train art in Faribault, for example, that doesn’t mean the work originated locally. Likely it did not. Trains travel all over the country.

The freshly-painted signature of DOLLFACE. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

There are exceptions, though. While looking at art on short rows of parked boxcars a few months back in Faribault, a young couple was doing likewise. I asked whether they were the artists. The response from one: “I can neither confirm nor deny.” Later, as I rounded the row of boxcars and the pair were heading for two vehicles parked nearby, I got my answer. There, along the bottom edge of a boxcar, block letters dripped baby blue paint. DOLLFACE had left her signature.

More art by the apologetic artist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
Signature or art, I’m unsure. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
An artist’s tag…I think. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

Other artists left their signatures, too, or what I can only assume are their signatures, along with dates, messages and social commentary. It’s all a bit of a mystery to me.

Some artists respectfully paint around official markings on rail cars. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
An understandable commentary. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
More art on boxcars. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

But I appreciate the skill, the effort, the creativity, the vibrant hues that go into creating this art form. Long ago, hobos—who today would be termed as “homeless”—rode the rails and left their art upon boxcars primarily as a way to communicate. Train art has a longstanding history in this country.

I found this humorous, painting around the word “PAINTED.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)

And that continues today. Perhaps not in the same way. But assuredly as an art form. Or as graffiti, depending on perspective.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The joy of a Northfield tie dye artist September 12, 2024

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My first view of the tie dyed t-shirts. Two days later, I returned and met the artist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

TIE DYED SHIRTS jolted color against a brown privacy fence along West Seventh Street in Northfield next to Riverside Park on a recent weekday afternoon. The colorful display proved a photographic surprise as I headed for the park.

The shirts have creative designs front and back. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Prices and payment box, on the honor system. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Vibrant hues on a heart shirt, one of my favorites. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Rich, brilliant hues and creative designs instantly drew my attention to this pop-up shop that was as much a place to buy a tee on the honor system as it was an art display.

Artist Rebecca Stull. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

The creative behind the wearable art is Rebecca Stull, who lives in an apartment building behind the fence with her daughter, Lily Joy, age three. I met them two days after I initially spotted and first photographed the tie dye art. I happened to be in Northfield again, same location, aiming for the Northfield Farmers Market in the park. And out came Rebecca and her daughter, the artist carrying bowls of water to set beside the sidewalk for passing dogs.

Rebecca also tie dyed these cute heart onesies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I couldn’t believe my luck. To meet Rebecca, to hear her story, excited me. Everyone has a story. Rebecca is new to tie dying, learning as she goes. I would not have guessed that based on the art she produced. She has a two-year online art degree, a good background for creating this art.

A mandala, a favorite design of Rebecca’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

This young mother and artist holds a passion for art, for tie dying. She feels a calling, she said, “on a journey to work with Jesus.” That shows in the crosses gracing some of her shirts, including little Lily’s. She also favors mandalas.

Rebecca pulled tees from the fence to show me fronts and backs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

What I love about Rebecca, besides her tie dye art, is her joy. She exudes positivity, despite struggles. Rebecca shared just enough for me to understand that life hasn’t always been easy for her. But here she is, getting the support she needs, using her creative talents, raising Lily Joy with a joyful spirit.

Rebecca’s storefront, next to her apartment building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

She told me how thankful she is for a landlord who supports her tie dye creativity.

Lily Joy counts her mom’s t-shirts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I encouraged her. It’s clear Rebecca wants the best for her little girl. Some of the monies from her first t-shirt sales paid for Lily Joy to go to the recent Defeat of Jesse James Days carnival. The three-year-old is an enthusiastic marketer of her mom’s tie dyed shirts. As I watched, Lily Joy, walked along the fence line, touching the shirts, counting inventory for her mom.

A cyclist passes Rebecca’s tie dyed t-shirts as he heads to the Northfield Farmers Market on a Friday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

To have met these two blessed me, jolted joy into my day. And it all started with a walk to Riverside Park, 35mm Canon camera in hand.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reminiscing about, & with, Rabbits at 50th class reunion September 11, 2024

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First up upon arriving in Wabasso for my 50th class reunion, a photo with the roadside white rabbit sculpture. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

WE MAY NEVER PASS this way again. Ah, but we have. On a recent Saturday, I gathered with some 30 of my Wabasso High School classmates to celebrate our 50th class reunion. In Wabasso, a small farming community 45 miles west of New Ulm on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

The front entrance to Wabasso Public Schools. The overhang with pillars was added after my days there. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
The cover of my WHS yearbook. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Signage at the front of the school blends the old and the new. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I’ve attended many reunions through the decades since 89 of us graduated in May of 1974. I’ve enjoyed every gathering, especially those in latter years when no one cared any more about who was a jock or an academic achiever or a wild one or any label we may have carried through our high school days. Today we are simply individuals who share a history of attending school together. Learning. Having fun. Making memories.

The 1973 – 1974 Wabasso High School FFA chapter consisted of mostly male students. I am among the few females featured in this photo. I’m seated in the second row, third girl on the right. (Photo credit: WHS yearbook)

Coming of age in the 1970s during the Vietnam War, we were a bit of a rebellious bunch testing our teachers’ patience. I was among those who wore a prisoner of war bracelet, embraced the peace symbol, wrote anti-war poetry. Mostly, though, I was quiet, studious, a rule follower. But I did blaze the way for young women at my high school by becoming the first girl to join the WHS Future Farmers of America Chapter. Decades later, a niece would become the state FFA president.

We were given a lengthy tour of the school. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

No one cared about any of that when we got together 50 years later, first touring the halls of our former school. Home of the Rabbits. Yes, Rabbits. Wabasso, meaning “white rabbit,” comes from the Dakota language. I’m proud of our school mascot, which is unique and connects to the history of the region. It honors the town name and the Dakota people who were the original inhabitants of this land and still live in the nearby Upper and Lower Sioux Indian communities.

This Rabbit mosaic once hung on the side of the front office counter. It now hangs in a school hallway. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
The original Rabbit mascot on a gym wall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Rabbit pride showcased in the gym. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

As the superintendent of schools led us through the school, I found myself drawn to the many artistic renditions of Thumper, our rabbit mascot. I don’t care for the updated, fierce version that now graces a wall in the new gymnasium. It’s not that I oppose change. I just don’t like the mean look on the rabbit’s face, his appearance of being on steroids. No thank you. I much prefer the old rabbit, the one that appears gentle and friendly. Thankfully, plenty of the original Thumpers remain in a school building I barely recognize.

Oversized photos, including this one of the 1973 homecoming court, are displayed in a hallway of images. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Building additions, removal of the storied stack, shuffling and changing of classrooms altered the school significantly. The home economics room is now the art room. The shop a classroom. The cafeteria is new, spacious, bright and beautiful. And the new library, although much brighter and modern in appearance, holds far fewer books than the library of my high school years, something several of us noticed and mentioned to the superintendent.

The Roadhouse Bar & Grill sits on a corner along Wabasso’s main street. It’s an especially popular summertime spot with weekly roll-ins. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
The reunion committee set up this mannequin wearing a Class of 1974 graduation gown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
This shows just a part of Meadowland Farmers Cooperative, which anchors the business community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

What I did notice, too, was a closeness I felt among classmates as we walked hallways and classrooms and even the old locker rooms. That feeling remained after the tour, down at the Roadhouse Bar & Grill. There we perused photos and memorabilia. Hugged. Laughed. Mourned the loss of 15 classmates. Built burgers at the burger bar. Gathered outside for a group photo. Clustered around patio tables for conversation as the sun set, brushing the sky in a subtle pink hue. All the while the ventilation fans from the grain bins across the street roared in a steady din.

Wabasso’s school song, printed on a gym wall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

“We May Never Pass This Way Again.” That titled the Seals & Croft tune we chose as our class song. It was our second choice. The administration nixed “Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road.” There was no mention of skunks—at least that I heard—at our 50th reunion. But Rabbits, oh, yes, Rabbits. We are forever and always Rabbit proud.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Old-fashioned fun for the kids at vintage farm show September 9, 2024

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Taking a spin on the merry-go-round at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Fall Show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I LOVE WATCHING KIDS engage in activities from “the olden days.” Like circling on a vintage merry-go-round which, in today’s world, would fail all safety standards. But at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines showgrounds in rural Dundas, playground and farm equipment of yesteryear, with all its inherently “dangerous” aspects, takes center stage. Common sense and caution are required at the bi-annual event which draws people of all ages. I observed a lot of young families at the recent Labor Day weekend farm show.

Train rides were a popular attraction with kids waiting in line to climb aboard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Tractors truly are a focal point of the farm show. This mini International sits on a train car. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Horse-drawn wagon rides, too, drew lots of riders of all ages. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

From a ride on a mini replica train, to rides on tractors, in horse-drawn wagons, and in a barrel train, kids have plenty to do here.

Windy Willow Farm Adventure, rural Northfield, provided animals housed in this shed. There were sheep, goats, rabbits, geese and chickens from the farm, plus horses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Two friendly goats vie for attention. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Tubs and buckets of corn await shelling. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

There are also clothes to feed through a ringer washer, corn to shell, animals to pet, a reel lawnmower to push and more.

The “engineer” of the barrel train steers a 1950s era Ford tractor around the showgrounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Without rails, the barrel train weaves among the vintage tractors at the farm show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Colorful, curving, quaint…barrel train. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Anytime anyone can get kids outdoors, off their electronic devices and learning rural history, it’s a good thing. Organizers of the steam & gas engines show clearly understand the importance of activities that keep kids busy and happy while adults watch the tractor pull, listen to music, mill around the vintage tractors and more as they connect in this rural community gathering.

Father and son circle on a 1010 Model early 1960s John Deere pulling a cultivator. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Most kids, even those from greater Minnesota, aren’t growing up “rural” anymore. Even if they live in the country, they’re not necessarily farm kids. So it’s important to expose them to the area’s agricultural heritage. The old tractors. The old farm machinery. The way clothes were washed and lawns were cut and how kids played back in the day.

The day after he competed in the pedal tractor pull and earned second place, this little guy was back pedaling. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

A kids’ pedal tractor pull contest engages youth, allows them to compete, show off their strength. It’s also a way to build memories so that years from now perhaps they will bring their own kids to the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show. They’ll remember those merry-go-round rides and how they climbed into a horse-drawn wagon and how they pedaled with all their leg power to get a mini tractor across a finish line. In the end, we all cross the finish line. And sometimes getting there requires experiencing a little danger mixed with a whole lot of fun.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling