Minnesota Prairie Roots

NOVEMBER MARKS A SEASON of transition, a time when the landscape slides ever closer to a colorless environment. Soon winter will envelope us in its drabness of gray and brown highlighted by white. There’s nothing visually compelling about that.

As a life-long Minnesotan, I understand this about November. I know this. But I still don’t like the absence of color or light, the dark morning rising, the darkness that descends well before 5 p.m. And, yes, seasonal affective disorder, even if you don’t admit you’re experiencing it, likely touches all of us in Minnesota.

Times like this, it helps to get outside, into the natural world, and view the November landscape through an appreciative lens. It’s possible to reshape your thinking if you slow down, notice the details, determine that beauty is to be found in the outdoors, even in this eleventh month of the year.

So into the woods I went at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault, where first off I spotted a deer on a trail, the animal effectively camouflaged among the dried leaves, the trunks of trees and buckthorn (an invasive species still green). The doe stood and watched as I eased slowly toward her intent on getting within better focal range. Soon she wandered into the woods, among the trees. I shot a rapid series of images as the stare-down continued, until finally the deer tired of my presence and hurried away.

What a wonderful way to begin my walk. Even if I consider deer too populous and a danger on roadways, my interest in watching them never wanes. And there are plenty of deer to watch at River Bend.

Mostly, though, I don’t see many animals at the nature center. Plant life becomes my point of interest. In November, that means dormant plants like dried grasses stretching across the expansive prairie. Or grasses rising high above my head along the trail, stalks listing, pushed by the wind. Dancing.

These grasses have lost their luster green, but they are no less lovely in muted shades. The thought crosses my mind how rapidly a spark could ignite a raging grass fire here upon the parched land.

Weeds and wildflowers (I’m no naturalist when it comes to identifying what I see) are likewise dead and dried, some glowing in the late afternoon sunshine. And that, too, is lovely.

Cattails appear ravaged by the seasons. Fungi ladder a tree branch. These are the details I notice in looking for photos, in convincing myself that beauty exists within the woods, upon the prairie, even in November.

Dried sumac in a hue that isn’t orange, that isn’t red, flames.

A blue sky, swept with wisps of clouds, accents the scenes I take in. I always feel small under the expansive sky, no matter the month.

A few stubborn, autumn leaves still cling, flashing color like the flick of a flame. That, too, I see on this November day.

A flutter of birds near the end of my walk draws my eyes to a bare tree. To watch. To hear their movement, like a whisper of winter coming. Quiet and colorless. Signs of December soon overtaking November.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling