Monarch on the common milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)
I’VE ALWAYS HELD a fascination with milkweeds. Their clusters of vanilla-scented dusty pink flowers draw me to a plant that seems more flower than weed. Unless you were my dad, who wanted the common milkweed removed from his acres of soybeans. Yes, I hoed or pulled plenty of milkweeds from the fields on my southwestern Minnesota childhood farm.
Milkweeds grow next to the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds against a backdrop of identifying milkweed photos. Those include six types: common, poke, purple, butterfly, whorled and swamp. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
My thinking has shifted since then. Today I plant, rather than eradicate, milkweeds. Dad, if he was still alive, might wonder how his farm-raised daughter strayed so far from hoeing to growing.
A monarch caterpillar. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The answer is easy. Long ago I learned the value of milkweeds to our monarch butterfly population. The butterfly lays its eggs on milkweed leaves. And milkweed is the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars. If we want the monarch population to grow, thrive and survive, we need milkweed plants. It’s that simple.
A sign at Hy-Vee grocery store explains the importance of milkweed to monarchs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
More and more I’ve spotted milkweeds growing in public places in and around Faribault. River Bend Nature Center. Falls Creek County Park. The Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens. Beside the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds. Even in flowerbeds at Hy-Vee grocery store.
Milkweeds grow among phlox. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
If you walk by my house, you’ll see stray milkweeds popping up here and there. Along a retaining wall. Among the prolific phlox in my messy flowerbeds. The husband has orders not to mow, pull or otherwise remove milkweed plants.
An unripened milkweed pod. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
This time of year, seed pods are forming on milkweeds. Perhaps it’s the writer, the poet, in me that loves the shape of those fat green pods that will eventually dry, burst open and spread seeds on wisps of white fluff carried by the wind.
Milkweeds flourish among prairie flowers in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens, Faribault, (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Seeds wing across the landscape, just like monarchs. I remember a time when monarchs were prolific. Yes, even in rural Minnesota where I labored to get rid of milkweed plants.
I discovered milkweeds planted outside Hy-Vee. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Naturalists, gardeners and others are working hard now to bring back the monarch population. It’s taken time, effort and education to convince people to plant milkweeds for monarchs. I don’t expect butterfly numbers will be what they once were—when monarchs flitted everywhere. But we have to start somewhere, do something. And that begins with each of us. Educating ourselves. Caring. And then deciding that milkweeds really aren’t weeds after all. They are vital to the survival of the monarch butterfly. It’s OK to plant milkweed seeds or allow nature to plant them.
Monarch on a thistle flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I, for one, delight in watching monarchs flit about my yard. They are magical as only a butterfly can be. Delicate, yet strong. Poetically beautiful. Carrying memories and grace on their wings.
An educational sign among the flowers at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
FYI: Nerstrand Big Woods State Park is hosting a “Monarchs and Milkweeds” presentation at 10 a.m. Saturday, August 24, in the park’s amphitheater. Kathy Gillispie, who raises monarchs from eggs, caterpillars and chrysalises, will speak about her experiences with monarchs. The program is free, but a state park parking pass is needed to enter the rural Nerstrand park.
This photo, taken at the Grant Wood Rest Area along I-380 south of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, was published in a book about architecture. It was converted to black-and-white in the book. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THROUGHOUT MY 15 YEARS of blogging, I’ve sold rights to dozens of images sourced from Minnesota Prairie Roots. My photos have published on websites, in tourism guides, on album covers, on packaging for a toy company, in magazines and newspapers, on business promotional materials, on signs and banners, on the cover of a nonprofit’s annual report, in books…
Three of my photos published in this book. (Book cover sourced online)
My Laura Look-Alike Contest photo displayed in a Chicago museum. My friend Laurel happened upon the photo while touring the museum and snapped this image for me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Laurel Engquist)
Likewise, I had the honor of selling rights to photos displayed in a temporary Laura Ingalls Wilder exhibit at the American Writer’s Museum in Chicago, at the Minnesota Children’s Museum in St. Paul and at the National WWII Museum in New Orleans. Atherton Pictures purchased rights to a southwestern Minnesota farm site photo for a WWII video created for the museum. I’ve never visited any of the three museums.
The Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji, which can house 72 veterans, recently opened. (Photo courtesy of Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji)
Seldom do I see how my photos are used once I email the original high resolution digital images to the buyer. But this summer I had the joy of seeing my framed photos displayed in hallways of the new Minnesota Veterans Home in Bemidji. I was in town to bring my son, who lives in Boston and was in Bemidji for the international unicycling convention, home to Faribault. I knew I had to make time for a stop at the veterans home.
So in between Unicon 21 events, Randy and I headed to the vets home in hopes of seeing my six framed art prints. We found four, thanks to Maryhelen Chadwick, public affairs/volunteer coordinator at the Veterans Home. When we showed up unexpectedly, Chadwick graciously led us through the sprawling Town Center in search of my photos. There, in the hallways of this public space, which includes a multipurpose room, theater, club room, learning studio, family dining room, therapy gym and meditation room, we located four of my photos.
This photo, converted to black-and-white, hangs in the Bemidji veterans home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
My photo of the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall also hangs in the vets home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Curated by a St. Paul art company, the selected images are all veteran-themed. Oversized photos of veterans’ memorials in Faribault and Northfield anchor a hallway wall. Elsewhere in the public space are two more images shot in Faribault—a veteran playing taps at a Memorial Day program and a photo of items placed at the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall. Chadwick later found my photos of sculptures at the county memorial in Faribault and the Rock County Veterans Memorial, Luverne, in the residential wing of the veterans home.
My father, Elvern Kletscher, on the left with two of his soldier buddies in Korea. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo)
To see four of my six photos showcased in a public space where veterans, their families and friends, staff, and others can view my work is humbling. I am the daughter of a Korean War veteran. My dad, Elvern Kletscher, fought on the front lines in Korea as a foot soldier. He experienced the worst of war. The injuries. The killing. Atrocities so awful, so horrific that he was forever changed by his time in combat. He suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (unrecognized at the time of his discharge). He endured much pain, heartache, trauma. Nightmares. Flashbacks.
My photo of a sculpture at the Rock County Veterans Memorial, lower right, is showcased in a group of images in the Beltrami Household. (Photo courtesy of Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji)
But, in his later years of life, Dad found solace among other veterans in a support group through the Redwood County Veterans Service office. I remember how hard officials worked to secure the Purple Heart that Dad finally got 47 years after he was wounded on Heartbreak Ridge. I was there for that emotional public ceremony.
My photo of a dove and eagle at the Rice County Veterans Memorial in Faribault graces a hallway of the Beltrami Household. (Photo courtesy of Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji)
Today emotions swell again as I think of my framed photos hanging in the Minnesota Veterans Home—Bemidji. To me these are not just veterans-related images procured as art. They are a photographic “thank you” to every person who has served our country. Because of individuals like my dad, I live in a free country, in a democracy. I never take that for granted. To be able to express my gratitude via my photos is truly an honor, a joy and deeply meaningful.
I hope my photo of a dove sculpture, symbolizing peace, and an eagle, symbolizing freedom, conveys my gratitude to the veterans living in the Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
NOTE: Maryhelen Chadwick kindly found and photographed my eagle/dove and soldier sculpture photos per my request after I visited the home. They hang in the Beltrami Household, one of four 18-room residential areas, a space I could not tour due to privacy.
Peaches fill a box and now my fridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
PEACHES PACK my refrigerator. Several ripen in a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. Big, beautiful Colorado peaches.
Signs directed people into the peach pick up spot in the basement. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Earlier this week, Randy and I picked up a 20-pound case of peaches in the basement of First English Lutheran Church. That’s a lot of peaches—around 40—for two people to eat. But I love peaches. And we’ll share some with our eldest daughter and her family.
People wait in line for their peaches at First English Lutheran Church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A steady stream of people flowed into the cold church basement late Tuesday afternoon for their pre-ordered peaches, sold as a fundraiser by the youth group. We paid $37 for our full box. That’s $1.85/pound. I have no idea if that’s a “good” price. It doesn’t matter. I prefer peaches shipped directly from the grower. I also like supporting local church youth, because I was once that mom of kids raising monies for mission trips and youth gatherings.
Peaches no longer come in wooden crates, but in cardboard boxes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Peaches, though, mean more to me than simply supporting a good cause and eating one of my favorite fruits. Peaches take me back to summer on the farm, into the kitchen. There my mom pried open a wooden crate of peaches wrapped in pinkish tissue paper (saved for later use in the outhouse). Then she dropped the peaches into a large kettle of boiling water to remove the skins. Next, she halved or sliced the peaches into Mason and Ball quart jars. Topped with lids and ringed, the jars went into the pressure cooker. Once removed, the jars cooled and sealed. Then we carried the jars to the cellar.
Beautiful (and delicious) Colorado peaches sold at First English. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
I admire farm women like my mom who labored to preserve fruits and vegetables to feed their families during the winter months ahead. And winters on the prairie were long and harsh. Many a cold, snowy evening, Mom would pull open the kitchen floor trap door and send me down the open wooden steps into the depths of the dank, dark, dirt-floored cellar lit by a single light bulb. There I selected a quart jar from the wooden shelves. Whatever fruit Mom wanted. Pears, cherries, plums, apples, peaches. The preserved fruit would complete our meal of meat, boiled potatoes with gravy, a side vegetable (pulled from the freezer) and homemade bread.
We ate well. Good food without preservatives. Beef from our cattle. Vegetables from our garden. Apples from local trees. And then all those fruits, purchased in crates and preserved. No additives. Just simple, good food.
Fruit-themed banners add a festive flair to peach pick up. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
I always thought I would follow my mom’s example of planting a big garden and preserving food. But I never did. I live on a mostly shady lot in town. I raised only three children, not six like her. I have easy access to multiple grocery stores, unlike her. Fresh fruit is readily available. I prefer fresh. And, if I’m really honest with myself, I never wanted to labor in the kitchen for hours during the hot summer putting up fruits and vegetables.
Carts were ready for volunteers to wheel peach cases to vehicles. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Still, I buy that case of peaches from First English. All those peaches, minus the tissue paper wrappings reused in the outhouse. In many ways, I am honoring my mom, hardworking farm woman of the Minnesota prairie. As I pull ripened peaches from a brown paper bag to slice into my morning oatmeal, to eat with a meal or to incorporate into a crisp, pie or galette, I think of Mom. She, who showed her love for family not in words or hugs, but rather in rows and rows of quart jars filled with fruit. Jars shelved on planks in the dank, dark depths of the dirt-floored cellar.
A view of Kenyon’s downtown business district along Minnesota State Highway 60 which runs through the heart of this southern Minnesota community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
EVERY SMALL TOWN I’ve ever visited, and I’ve been to a lot, has unique, identifying qualities that make it memorable. In Ellendale, it’s the old-fashioned grocery store and meat market. In Montgomery, it’s the veterans’ photos displayed downtown, the bakery, the arts and heritage center, the murals and vintage signage. And in Kenyon, it’s the roses growing along the boulevard, the signs, the thrift shops and more.
One of two fabulous thrift shops in Kenyon, the other SIFT Thrift Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Among the many tree shrub roses blooming in the Boulevard of Roses along Highway 60 through Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I peered inside Nygaard Garage to see a car on a hoist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
There’s so much to see in these rural communities, if only we stop, exit our vehicles and walk. We miss a lot when we simply wheel by. I encourage you, next time you drive into an Ellendale, a Montgomery, a Kenyon, to explore. On foot.
Kenyon Meats draws attention with humorous signage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
A note in a storefront window. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I spotted several signs noting eggs for sale and support for the local school. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I did that recently in Kenyon, starting at Kenyon Meats, working my way through the several-block downtown business district. I moved at a slow pace, zooming in on details. Like handwritten notes posted in windows, business signs, community notices. Those show the nuances of place. I chatted with a barber and a restaurateur.
I saw two barbershops located across the street from one another, one with a laundromat in the back. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The laundromat behind Dick’s Barber Shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Colorful flags mark the permanent location of the food truck Che Che’s Lunchera on the corner of Highway 60 by the former BP station. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Kenyon, with a population of just under 2,000, impresses me with its variety of businesses. Meat market, barbershops, floral and gift shop, jewelry store, two thrift shops, grocery store, repair shops/garages, insurance agencies, hardware store, municipal liquor store, restaurants, newspaper office, vet clinic, sign shop, bus service and more. Even a food truck parked on the corner of busy Minnesota State Highway 60. And that’s mostly in the core downtown area.
A sign posted downtown for this Saturday’s car and truck show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Held Bus Service is located right downtown Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Next time I stop in Kenyon, I need to eat at Angie’s Restaurant. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
This week, Kenyon, like so many small towns, hosts a community celebration that is all about bringing people together. Rose Fest runs August 14-18 with a parade, car and truck show, vendor and craft market, city-wide garage sales, a regatta at the pool, BINGO, fire department water fights, tractor pull, magic show, music, food, food and more food… A true community celebration in every sense of a small town summer event that requires a great deal of planning and enthusiastic volunteers.
Walking the dog in downtown Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Among the many roses blooming in Kenyon’s Boulevard of Roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
One of my favorite finds in Kenyon, this Fox’s Garage signage. This building once housed the Martin Fox Garage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
At the heart of everything are the people—those who grew up here or moved from elsewhere to settle into this place—who call Kenyon home. Theirs is a community worthy of our pause. Stop. Walk. Smell the roses. Appreciate all that this small town offers. Just like so many other rural Minnesota communities.
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NOTE: Watch for more posts from Kenyon as I have many more photos showcasing this southern Minnesota community.
WE CAN ALL USE some encouragement, no matter our age. And that’s exactly what you’ll find in “Little Mountain, Big Trouble,” a debut young adult novel by Owatonna writer Chris Norbury.
I don’t typically read fiction written for youth. But when I met Norbury this summer at Faribault’s Heritage Days and learned about his latest book, I knew I had to read it. I’m a fan of Norbury’s writing. He’s the author of three books in the Matt Lanier mystery/suspense/thriller series. All are set in Minnesota, which makes them even more appealing to me.
Given the differences in writing mysteries for adults versus fiction for youth, I wondered if Norbury could pull it off. He did, and so well that I wanted to continue reading “Little Mountain, Big Trouble” one evening well past my bed-time. That, in my opinion, is the sign of a good book.
BULLIED
The story centers around 12-year-old Eduardo, or EJ, who’s unpopular, bullied, short and at that awkward middle school age with its uncertainties, peer pressure and insecurities. Toss in poverty, a broken family and other challenges and you have a relatable read. I imagine many middle or high schoolers can empathize with EJ’s pain, struggles and lack of confidence. Even I, decades removed from junior high school, felt difficult memories of bullying surge back. Some things you just never forget. I still carry the pain of name-calling with me. But, because of that, I lean into compassion, understanding, empathy and kindness.
BIG BROTHER, LITTLE BROTHER
Norbury’s book is filled with all of that, too, no surprise given his experiences as a Big Brother. In real life, he mentored boys through Big Brothers Big Sisters of Southern Minnesota and now donates a portion of his book sale proceeds to the organization. When we met, Norbury enthused about the program and how much his “little brothers” meant, still mean, to him.
In “Little Mountain, Big Trouble,” main character EJ is paired with Big Brother, Russ. That relationship focuses the story-line as the chapters unfold. Although a disclaimer at the front of the book assures the content is fictional, I understand that, as a writer, our writing is influenced by what we’ve lived or observed.
CLIMBING MOUNTAINS
It takes EJ a while to trust Russ, to realize that his Big Brother is not perfect and is there to support him. Russ doesn’t talk down to EJ, but rather listens to and encourages him, like they are equals in many ways. Eventually, EJ opens up about his goal to become a mountain climber. At this point, I wondered what Norbury was thinking by writing that into the plot. A Minnesota kid with no mountain climbing background wanting to climb Mount Everest?
Russ doesn’t dismiss EJ’s dream as insurmountable. Rather, he breaks the goal down into doable steps, starting first with training and then climbing Eagle Mountain. That mountain is real, the highest point in Minnesota, with much of the hiking trail to the summit running through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.
ANXIOUS AND WORRIED
And that is where EJ and Russ end up, heading up, then down, the mountain. And this is where the tension thickens to the point that I am feeling anxious and worried. To elicit that response in the reader shows Norbury’s skills as a writer. The duo face challenges that test their strength and endurance, even threaten Russ’ life.
WE ALL NEED SOMEONE
I won’t spoil the book by revealing the outcome of that mountain hike. But know that the book ends in a heart-warming way. EJ has developed confidence, gained the acceptance and respect of his peers, and grown to understand that he can overcome, and do, anything. Sometimes it just takes someone, like Russ, believing in you and cheering you on, just as I expect Chris Norbury did for his little brothers.
Relaxing on the end of the dock as the sun sets at Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
LAKE, SKY, TOWERING PINES, CABIN. Those define summer Up North for many Minnesotans. Not until recent years did I, too, become one of those heading north to the cabin for a week. That’s thanks to a brother-in-law and sister-in-law who generously share their Northwoods paradise with extended family.
I aimed my camera straight up toward the tops of towering pines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Randy and I love spending time with our eldest daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren at the cabin on Horseshoe Lake south of Crosslake. We are bonding, building memories and connecting with nature in a way that differs from southern Minnesota.
Treelines open to the beach along Horseshoe Lake as the sun sets, the moon rises. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
The Brainerd Lakes Area has a decidedly different look and feel than the lower half of our state. Dense woods, primarily pine, hug roads and homes, opening to beautiful, pristine lakes.
As day shifts toward night, pontoons motor around Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
There are plenty of jet skis, too, speeding across the lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A loon family glides across the lake at sunset. We saw and heard the loons often, but none swam near enough for close-up photos. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Up here it’s all about fishing, campfires, watching the sun set or rise, lying in a hammock, drinking coffee lakeside, grilling, eating meals outdoors, observing the loons, reading on the beach, dipping your feet in the water, kayaking, paddle-boarding, boating…
A gull wings across the wide sky on a perfect July afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
In essence, vacationing Up North means forgetting about the stresses, pressures, deadlines and routines of daily life. It means leisurely mornings, relaxing lakeside, days without time.
I had the best pulled pork sandwich here when Randy and I lunched with friends Sue and Charley at the Damsite Supper Club. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A mural in Ironton promotes cycling in the region. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Randy photographed me with my new friend outside Nord Hus Scandinavian Goods in Crosby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024 by Randy Helbling)
This stay we also drove to nearby Crosby and Ironton, towns nestled next to each other and deeply rooted in Iron Range history. We’ve only just begun to explore those communities, which are remaking and branding themselves as the Cuyuna Lakes region, drawing mountain bikers to an extensive recreational trail system, vacationers to local eateries and shops. MacDaddy’s Donut Garage in Ironton is on my list of bakeries to visit.
The Blueberry Special at Valeri Ann’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Valeri Ann’s Family Foods in Merrifield, a short drive from the cabin, has become our source for decadent caramel rolls, one big enough for two to share and tasting almost as good as the ones my mother-in-law made. This time we also tried the breakfast specials, one featuring a dinner-plate-size blueberry pancake, the other with wild rice and more incorporated into scrambled eggs. Wild rice is another Northwoods signature food, grown and harvested in the region and parts farther north.
I love how the water ripples, like a work of art, as a boat crosses Horseshoe Lake at sunset. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
As I’ve explored and vacationed in the Northwoods, I’ve grown a deeper appreciation for Minnesota and its diversity of geography, topography and lifestyle. There’s so much to love about this state, from north to south, east to west. Ah, summertime…and going Up North to the cabin.
It takes poles, a helping hand and skill to ride this unusual two-person unicycle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
UNICON 21, THE INTERNATIONAL UNICYCLING competition and convention held recently in Bemidji, is history. But the memories wheel on for attendees and competitors. That I attended as an observer, if only for a day, proved an incredible experience. I had no idea so many types of unicycles existed or the level of talent among unicyclists.
The museum featured assorted unicycles (many available to check out and ride), plus unicycling merch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Among the most unusual unicycle wheels. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
As if riding on one wheel isn’t difficult enough… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I shot hundreds of photos and have shared many with you. It is my hope that, via my photography, you, too, have learned more about the international unicycling world. Today I bring you an assortment of images, most from the pop-up Unicycle Museum inside the Sanford Center and the unicycling happening outside. Others are simply pix I took throughout the day.
Trying out unicycling outside the Sanford Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
An experienced unicyclist rides with confidence and speed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A fat tire unicycle and one with two basketballs below the wheel intrigued me. The woman to the left attempted to unicycle, supported by bars on two sides and helping hands. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Enjoy this collection, which I hope grows your appreciation for the ordinary people who choose to ride unicycles. Some ride simply for leisure while others excel as athletes and entertainers. No matter their skill level, anyone who can ride a unicycle impresses me.
One of the more unusual unicycles, with four wheels. How do you even ride that? (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
This unicyclist, from Bemidji, received a medal for the closest attendee at Unicon 21. A unicyclist from Australia traveled the greatest distance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
An entire group of attendees painted their arms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I saw how focused they were, how much fun they were having, how connected they seemed as a unicycling community. And perhaps that is the biggest take-away—this coming together of people from around the world to share their passion for unicycling. No politics. No conflict. No differences. Just people on unicycles enjoying Unicon 21 in northern Minnesota.
Unicon 21 participants got Paul Bunyan-themed swag bags promoting Bemidji. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A fitting bumper sticker displayed in the Unicycle Museum. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Among the items shown in the museum. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Competitive events included marathons. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A collection of tees from past Unicon gatherings was displayed in the museum. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
If you couldn’t attend in person, live streaming was an option. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
It took a lot of dedicated volunteers to make Unicon 21 happen in Bemidji. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A farm site west of New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WOULD YOU PICK rock, walk beans, clean up pig or cow muck? Joe and his crew will.
I can, too, as I’m experienced. But I have no desire to return to those farm tasks that are now only long ago youthful memories.
The sign I spotted in a Redwood Falls convenience store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Recently, I saw a sign, more like a note, posted by Joe on a convenience store bulletin board in Redwood Falls, deep in the heart of southwestern Minnesota farm country. I grew up in that area, on a crop and dairy farm.
Rocks picked and piled at field’s edge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2014)
Like Joe, I worked the land and labored in the barn. I picked rock, which is exactly as it sounds—walking fields to pick rocks from the soil and toss them onto a wagon or loader. Rock removal is necessary so farm equipment isn’t damaged during crop prep, planting and harvesting. It’s hard, dirty work when done by hand.
Likewise, walking beans is hard, dirty, hot work. That job involves walking down rows of soybeans to remove weeds and stray corn plants, either by hand or by hoe. At least that’s how I walked beans back in the day. Today that may involve spot spraying herbicides.
A tasseling Rice County corn field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
And when I worked corn fields, it was to detassel corn for the Dekalb seed company. I arose early, boarded a school bus with a bunch of other teens, arrived at a corn field and proceeded to walk the corn rows pulling tassels from corn plants. Dew ran down my arms, corn leaves sliced my skin, sweat poured off my body as the day progressed under a hot July sun. Of all the jobs I’ve had, detasseling corn rates as the most miserable, awful, horrible, labor intense work I’ve ever done.
Inside a Rice County dairy barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I’d rather shovel cow manure. And I did plenty of that along with other animal-related farm chores.
If Joe and his team are willing to take on tasks that are labor intensive, hot and smelly, then I applaud them. We need hands-on folks who are not afraid to get their hands dirty, to break a sweat, to do those jobs that place them close to the land. Jobs many other people would not do.
An abandoned barn and silo along a backroad in the Sogn Valley of southeastern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2021)
I don’t regret my farm work experiences. I learned the value of hard physical labor, of working together, of understanding that what I did was necessary. Certainly farming has changed, modernized in the 50 years since I left the land. Machines and computers make life easier.
But sometimes it still takes people like Joe and his crew to plant their soles on the earth, their feet in the barn, to make a farming operation work, even in 2024.
Members of The Wonders Unicycle Club, in themed t-shirts, compete in the freestyle group competition at Unicon 21.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
WHILE THE SUMMER 2024 OLYMPICS are now well underway, I’m still focused on another Olympics of sorts held in northern Minnesota. Unicon 21, a convention and competition for unicyclists from around the world, recently wrapped up in Bemidji. I spent one day watching competitive events with my husband and our son, who flew in from Boston to attend. Caleb unicycles as a leisure sport, not competitively.
From Germany, The Black Pearl Group circles during their routine. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I’ve already recapped Unicon 21 and showcased competitive basketball, relay races and freestyle group performances. But I have more to show you. Today I take you back to the freestyle group competition at Bemidji State University. This was, by far, my favorite organized unicycle competition. This seemed more performance art than sport, although it certainly is an athletic contest. As a creative, I lean into art more than sports.
Another team from Germany, the TSV Dudenhof Group, performs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A pause in the performance, and even that takes skill to balance in place. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Now this takes skill, guts and daring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I didn’t see every performance. My schedule didn’t allow me to stay until the 10 pm end time. But I watched seven groups perform—two from Japan (previously featured here), one from the U.S. and the others from Germany.
The Dragon Age Group from Germany performs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
The skill, talent, precision and more required to perform choreographed routines is impressive.
A helping hand at the start of The Wonders Unicycle Club performance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Themed t-shirts worn by The Wonders unicyclists. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Success for the littlest Wonder. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
“THIS IS HOW WE ROLL,” printed onto tees worn by four unicyclists from The Wonders Unicycle Club, succinctly summarizes unicycling. This U.S. team won the hearts of the crowd not so much via a high level of performance skills, but rather with a cuteness factor. To watch a young girl wheel her way around the gym floor with two adults (presumably her parents) while helpful little brother assisted and then waited court-side, left me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.
The Dragon Age Group circles during their routine. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
But everything about the freestyle group show left me feeling just plain happy. These were athletes, performers, entertainers who wowed the crowd, who absolutely deserved to be on a world stage showing off their athletic and performance skills.
Another German team, The SV Boostedt SG Group performs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
There’s probably a technical name for this, but I call it “the wheelbarrow.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I can’t tell you who won the freestyle competition because I don’t know and, frankly, I don’t care all that much. These young people are all winners in my book. They chose a sport that few have mastered, that sets them apart, that requires patience, persistence, practice and a genuine devotion to the act of unicycling.
It’s all about the wheel, one wheel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
There’s something to be said for someone who steps outside the norm (riding on one wheel rather than two) and embraces something that would challenge most of us. I recall my son relentlessly attempting to get on his first unicycle as a grade schooler, He would place one hand on a work bench in the garage and then try to get onto the unicycle seat. Eventually he could stay on the seat, then pedal forward out of the garage. Soon he was circling the driveway and riding along city bike trails with ease and speed that, admittedly, scared me. Yes, he fell off, breaking a finger once when his outstretched hand hit the side of the van parked in the driveway. And, yes, even the international performers fell occasionally.
A seemingly impossible feat with two team members of The Dragon Age Group balancing on one unicycle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
But none of these competitors fell short of creating a fun evening for those of us watching from the bleachers at Bemidji State. They entertained and wowed us, one wheel at a time.
The Kletscher Family Coat of Arms of Posen-West Prussia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
REUNITING. RECONNECTING. REMEMBERING. Those words define reunions, whether among family or friends. Summer marks prime reunion time in Minnesota, including for me, especially this year.
I’m flanked by cousins, Joyce, left, and LeAnn. We were born within months of each other and grew up spending lots of time together at family gatherings. (Photo credit: Kirt Kletscher)
From Pine River in northern Minnesota to Vesta on the southwestern Minnesota prairie to the Twin Cities and elsewhere, I’ve reconnected with people who are important to me, with whom I share roots and/or connections. And it’s been a joy because the older I grow, the more I realize that time is not a given and we need to gather and appreciate one another. With hugs, love and care.
Myparents’ tombstone in the Vesta City Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
My most recent reunion happened July 28, when Randy and I traveled 2.5 hours west to my hometown of Vesta in Redwood County for the Kletscher Family Reunion, held annually on the last Sunday in July. First we stopped at the cemetery to visit the gravesites of my parents, grandparents and other family members. I wiped away tears before we followed the gravel road into town, to the reunion site, the former Vesta Elementary School, now turned city hall and community center.
Vesta Elementary School in the 1960s.
The old school gym, site of the family reunion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
The school today, as a city hall and community center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
To walk back into the building where I spent my first six grades learning to read, write, spell, do math and more felt comforting and disconcerting, like stepping back into a school that no longer looks the same, but still holds the same memories. Clapping erasers outside on the east brick wall. Listening to Mrs. Kotval read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books after lunch. Scrawling letters in a penmanship book. Weaving a rug from rags. Building snowforts. Jumping rope on the front sidewalk. Performing on the stage. So many memories in this space.
A summary of a 30-page family tree/scroll. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
And on Sunday, that space also held some 60-70 descendants of Henry and Ida Kletscher, parents of twelve, two dead in infancy and only three surviving today. The family tree, printed on 30 pieces of paper, stretched across several tables. I am one of 39 grandchildren, my children among 114 great grandchildren of Henry and Ida in a line that today also includes 114 great great grandchildren and one great great great grandchild. We are a large and prolific bunch that continues to grow. That we still gather annually is a testament to the strength of family bonds. I grew up near my paternal grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, spending lots of time together.
Everyone brings food for the potluck. There’s always blueberry dessert. The spread covers several tables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2013)
But my generation and those thereafter have scattered well outside Redwood County. Family arrived from Wisconsin, Iowa, North Dakota and all parts of Minnesota from Blaine to Delano to Alexandria to Owatonna, Faribault, Waseca, and many other communities near and far. Those from even more distant locations like the East Coast did not attend.
As at all reunions, I intentionally circulated, attempting to converse with everyone at some point. This gathering, conversations were not so much about the past as about the present. We talked kids, grandkids, retirement (or not), health challenges, home improvement projects… There was a lot of phone scrolling, too, to show photos of grandchildren.
Aunt Iylene tatted these flags celebrating our German heritage and the Kletscher family’s new home in America. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
I cooed over new baby Wren; met Aubrey from West Fargo, going into first grade and whose name was easy for me to remember (and mine for her); saw photos of a wedding dress under construction by bride-to-be Sarah; encouraged Andy, who is in a drug trial study at Mayo Clinic for his debilitating heart condition; listened to Lynn’s recitation of a humorous poem her teacher didn’t appreciate back in the day; admired Aunt Iylene’s tatting projects (which she gave away on Sunday and which honor Grandma Ida, who also tatted); listened to stories of heartaches and challenges and life.
A highlight of the reunion was watching and listening to Kirt play Ardyce’s accordion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
And then there was the impromptu concert by my cousin Kirt, who plays accordion. He brought his and was also gifted, at the reunion, with Aunt Ardyce’s 73-year-old accordion, a gift to her from her parents when she was only thirteen. She took lessons briefly as did two of her children. But the instrument has mostly sat in its case for seven decades…until Kirt picked it up and commenced to play, but only to a select few of us in the entry hallway. To watch my 86-year-old aunt, seated next to her nephew, listening intently to “her” accordion brought me such joy. I couldn’t help but think how happy this moment would have made my grandparents.
A plaque honors my grandpa and others who were instrumental in construction of Vesta Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
We were here, in this place, because of Henry and Ida. Henry served as clerk of Independent School District #639 when the Vesta School was built in 1958. To think that, 66 years later, Grandpa’s descendants would gather here to celebrate family felt incredibly right. Two hours after we ate a potluck lunch (which always includes blueberry dessert), we honored Henry and Ida with 1919 root beer floats. My grandparents were married in November 1919.
Here we were in 2024, a family still going strong—reuniting, reconnecting, remembering and honoring the legacy of Henry and Ida Kletscher. Henry, the 25-year-old farmer, who married Ida just days before her eighteenth birthday 105 years ago.
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FYI:In addition to the Kletscher Family Reunion, I’ve reconnected in July with Sue, a blogging friend; aunts from New Jersey and Missouri and family from Minneapolis; my son from Boston; and met three of Randy’s cousins originally from North Dakota. There are more gatherings to come with a Helbling Family Reunion in two weeks and 50-year class reunions for Randy and me in September.
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