WITH WINTER OFFICIALLY LAUNCHED, it’s easy enough to stay home, settle in, curl up with a good book and avoid the ice, cold and snow that define Minnesota weather in January. When winter burrows in, I’m more inclined to hibernate. But I push myself to get out. It’s good for my physical, mental and emotional health.
Faribault offers plenty of options for aging Baby Boomers like me and others who simply want to take a walk. On the worst of winter days, I can loop around the soccer field at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, which opens its dome to the public most weekday mornings (except holidays) from November into early spring. Hours vary, but generally run from around six-ish to 9:30 am.
And when I want to be outdoors, the city’s paved recreational trails are usually cleared, allowing me to safely immerse myself in nature. There’s something about walking outdoors at a brisk pace on a cold winter day that invigorates.
Sometimes, though, I opt to carry my camera and focus on the environment rather than upping my heart rate. Photography improves my well-being, too, because I begin to notice nature’s details in a mostly monochrome landscape. Winter’s beauty emerges. And that is good for my spirit, my soul, my creativity.
I especially delight in following the Straight River Trail because water, whether frozen or flowing free, mesmerizes me. I think humans have always been drawn to water. Near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park, the Straight River curves, winding through the woods, under the railroad bridge, along the bluffs.
On a recent afternoon along the trail, with Canon camera in hand, I spotted a flash of red across the river in the woods. From a distance and through the trees, I couldn’t clearly distinguish details. But I knew this was a temporary shelter for someone without a permanent home. I saw a person shoveling snow.
And I thought of my poem, “Misunderstood,” inspired by a previous walk along the Straight River Trail. That poem published in 2024 in Talking Stick 33, Earth Signs, a Minnesota literary anthology:
Misunderstood
Tents cluster along the Straight River,
home to the homeless on land
once held by the Wahpekute.
History and hardship merge here
in long-ago and present-day stories.
Bison skin tipis and nylon tents.
Different times. Different peoples.
Drawn to the water, the sheltering woods.
Misunderstood then. Misunderstood now.
Getting outdoors feeds my creativity. If not for that walk and my knowledge of Faribault history, I would not have crafted that poem about the Dakota and those experiencing homelessness today in my community. I observe, photograph, write, creating photos and stories that need to be shared.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Inside The Land of Plenty under “the king’s” rule January 6, 2026
Tags: commentary, fiction, January 6, king, opinion, stories, The Land of Plenty
ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty, the leader of the land ruled like a king. Not a nice king. Not a kind king. But rather a mean-spirited one.
The leader had never been appointed king. It was a title he claimed for himself with oppressive authority. In truth, he’d been voted into his powerful position, not overwhelmingly as he declared, but rather in a close election. That should have been enough to tamp his crowing, rein in his overuse of superfluous adjectives and adverbs, deflate his super-inflated ego and encourage good behavior. But it was not to be.
ONE JANUARY DAY
Rather the self-proclaimed king, who’d been ousted from The Land of Plenty after his first tenure, determined to make up for lost time. Five years earlier, on an early January day, he attempted to retain power when his supporters stormed the castle. He claimed ignorance. Some believed him; many didn’t. Evidence doesn’t lie.
The king’s anger simmered, then boiled over when he returned to the castle feeling vindicated and empowered. A man of vengeance, he sought to punish any who opposed him. On the flip side, he freed those he considered wrongfully shackled. No one would do harm to him or his legion. No one. He was in charge. His decisions held absolute power. Only his voice mattered.
Threats. Intimidation. Cruel and demeaning words. Imprisonment. Deflection. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Conspiracy theories. All fit his mode of ruling. He would make The Land of Plenty great again, whatever that meant.
BROKEN PROMISES
He promised to end wars and claimed he had. He promised to lower prices. He promised to rid the land of strangers and foreigners. That sounded promising to all who supported him. No conflict, only peace. Fewer coins spent on food purchased in the town square marketplace. A strong land unlike any other, without foreigners roaming the streets, taking away jobs, committing crimes and creating chaos (his words).
Except it was the king creating chaos. Doing whatever he pleased. Causing discord. Divisions arose within the kingdom. World conflict increased. Prices spiked as the king imposed new taxes. The ruler of The Land of Plenty was viewed by millions as uncaring, ruthless, self-centered and far worse. Many felt his wrath.
SNATCHED, BANISHED
The king targeted strangers and foreigners who contributed greatly to the economy and success of the kingdom. They toiled in fields, wagon wheel factories, blacksmith shops, bakeries… Some even emptied his golden commode. But to the king, none of that mattered. “Go back to your homeland!” the king screamed. “We don’t want you here!” He decreed that the unwanted should be snatched, grabbed off the streets by his masked henchmen and banished. And so many were.
As the days, weeks, months and then a year passed since the self-proclaimed king resumed his rule, the situation in The Land of Plenty was far from fine. It was, in fact, rather awful, dire, especially for the lowly peasants who labored long hours for every coin. Many realized they’d been duped, led to believe in fairy tale endings. In happily ever after.
And so the story goes with three chapters unwritten, the ending unknown.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling