Note: The following post has been in my “drafts” since May. Time to publish this, as it appropriately themes to healing.
The statue of Princess Owatonna in Mineral Springs Park dates to the early 1930s.
LEGEND GOES THAT PRINCESS OWATONNA experienced restored health by drinking the curing waters of Minnewauan.
Princess Owatonna and her story, a park focal point.
The story of the princess, and a statue of her, center Mineral Springs Park in Owatonna, a place defined by water. Springs. Maple Creek. And a man-made waterfall.
Randy climbs a steep stairway to the top of a wooded hillside.
When we visited in mid May, apple blossoms were budding and blooming.
It was such a lovely May day to be out and about.
On a Friday afternoon in May, Randy and I stopped by the park to take in the art, the legend, the beauty of the water and apple blossoms, and simply nature.
Maple Creek, spanned by several bridges in the park.
Water streams from a pipe along the river bank.
Gracing Mineral Springs Park, a beautiful man-made waterfall constructed in the early 1970s.
During a previous visit, I drank cold spring water from a fountain. But on this day, no water bubbled up. Instead, water streamed from a nearby pipe, flowed in the creek and cascaded down the waterfall.
More history on a monument in Mineral Springs Park.
The park on this weather-perfect afternoon proved busy. But not too busy that we felt uncomfortable or crowed. Everyone respected everyone and social-distanced.
Another view of Maple Creek, which winds through Mineral Springs Park.
In 1875, Owatonna Mineral Springs Company formed with the spring water served for many years on railroad dining cars, according to the City of Owatonna website. One can only imagine the refreshing taste of that water sourced from this place in southern Minnesota, this place where Princess Owatonna, daughter of Chief Wabena, once found healing. So the legend goes…
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BONUS FINDS:
While walking around Mineral Springs Park, we found these messages on stones and a shell left in the park.
I GLANCED OUT THE BATHROOM window to see an orange cat sitting on the back steps. Eyes closed. Every bit the image of contentment on a cold Minnesota morning.
The spot just outside the kitchen door and next to the garage sheltered the tabby from the wind, offering a place of warmth and sunshine following an unseasonably early record snowfall here in southern Minnesota on October 20. Since then, temps have risen from the 30s into the 60s and only a few patches of the 8-inch snowfall remain in shaded areas and in piles pushed by snowplows.
As I watched the cat, I focused on his/her closed eyes. Peace emanated as this feline did whatever cats do when their eyes are closed. Maybe the cat napped. Maybe not. But that stray cat with eyelids pressed shut somehow soothed me, reminded me that finding a place of peace is possible if we choose to seek, recognize and embrace it.
THOUGHTS? I’d like to hear where and how you’re finding peace these days. We can all learn from one another.
My dad carried home a July 31, 1953, memorial service bulletin from Sucham-dong, Korea. In the right column is listed the name of his fallen buddy, Raymond W. Scheibe. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
MEN AND WOMEN have fought and died for our democracy.
A chair placed before a Stephen Somerstein photo offers visitors a place to sit and contemplate. This photo was taken at the “Selma to Montgomery: Marching Along the Voting Rights Trail” exhibit at St. Olaf College in 2015. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Men and women and children have marched for equality. And they still are.
A portion of a photo by Steve Somerstein, from the exhibit at St. Olaf College. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2015.
There was a time not all that long ago when people of color and women did not have the right to vote.
A message posted on a house in Dundas. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2020.
It is our responsibility as citizens of the United States of America to vote. To let our voices be heard. To exercise our freedom. To cut through the political rhetoric and untruths to make informed choices. To recognize that in a democracy, every vote matters.
This folding polling booth, patented in March 1892, is on display at the Village of Yesteryear in Owatonna. It comes from the Meriden Town Hall, where voters used it until 2009. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo July 2012.
If you have not yet voted, then get to your polling place today and cast your votes. I voted early, via mail-in ballot. And, yes, I hold full confidence in that system.
Randy put this sticker on his sweatshirt after voting in the 2010 election. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
And then, like the rest of you, my dear Americans, I will wait, recognizing I have done my part by voting, by exercising my democratic right.
The grandkids, with their parents, getting ready to go trick-or-treating.
I ADMIT THAT WHEN ILEARNED my young grandchildren were going trick-or-treating, I was concerned. The CDC labeled the door-to-door tradition to be high risk during this global pandemic. Yet, I knew my daughter and her husband would be careful, as I expected others in their suburban Minnesota neighborhood would be. And that’s exactly how Halloween played out.
Isaac peeks out the front door side window before he leaves for trick-or-treating.
Setting a festive mood on the front porch…
Heading into the neighborhood early Saturday evening to trick-or-treat.
As I stayed behind to replenish the individually bagged candy and stickers and the glo-sticks arranged on an unattended table on the front porch, the rest—Isabelle as Thomas the Tank Engine, Isaac as a dinosaur, Randy as a divided Minnesota, and the parents as themselves, warmly dressed Minnesotans—set out to gather treats.
The candy table positioned outside the front door on the porch.
A Halloween garland visible through the front windows.
Spider web art created by my daughter and granddaughter and positioned in a front window (because the wind was too strong to place the cardboard piece outdoors).
I settled on the couch with the newspaper, occasionally hearing voices outside the front door. Then I’d wait a few minutes, until I knew the trick-or-treaters and their parents were gone, before stepping out to restock.
Isaac discovered that if he held his blinking lights treat bag next to something, the light would reflect. This fascinated him.
Eventually, the cold, fierce wind drew my family back to the house, where Isaac was more interested in his light-up candy bag than the candy. The kids each got one treat before we left and they transitioned toward bed.
Earlier, Randy and I sat with the kids and frosted and decorated homemade carrot cupcakes I baked the previous day. Isaac, at 22 months, was more interested in slicing the cupcakes with his child-sized knife. Izzy, 4, struggled with the thick frosting (note to self: next time make homemade cream cheese frosting), but managed the sprinkles quite well. When she later ate a cupcake overloaded with black sugar, her tongue turned black and black ringed her mouth. Coal residue from Thomas the Tank Engine, perhaps?
Chalk art on the driveway.
All in all, it was a fun Halloween. The kids were happy. The grandparents were happy to spend time with the grandchildren. And the parents, and the neighborhood, managed Halloween in a safe way, with all treats set outside and social distancing followed.
Randy noted one other difference. Trick-or-treating, without doorbell ringing and interaction, simply did not feel the same. He’s right. But this year, health and safety mattered more than tradition.
Celebrating Halloween in October 2016 with a costume parade down Faribault’s Central Avenue. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.
WHY IS HALLOWEEN such a wildly popular and much-loved annual celebration?
From a Halloween display in Hayfield, Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Answers may range from the fun component to the scare factor. From costumes to candy. Whatever the reasons, it’s clear that Halloween captivates us each year. This year, though, with COVID-19, October 31 will look decidedly different. Or it should with no costume parties, safety-focused trick-or-treating (if at all), and other limitations.
Photographed at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Flea Market in rural Dundas. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
I have no intention of handing out candy this Halloween. Not that many kids ever stop at our house anyway given few live in our neighborhood. So if I’m not sharing treats, I’ll at least share 13 Halloween photos pulled from my archives.
Written on a window in Hayfield as part of a Halloween display. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.
So sit back and scroll through these images while you consider Halloweens past, when life seemed a lot less scary.
Brianna’s cat, in her home in Hayfield, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.
Three almost ghost-like faces, with undefined, haunting eyes, created by Pam Bidelman and exhibited at the arts center in St. Peter in 2012. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
I photographed Frankenstein in Janesville in 2016. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Clowns don’t scare me. But I know they frighten some people. Photographed in 2016 in a Janesville antique shop. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Bloody fingers cookies baked by my sister Monica or her daughters for past soup parties hosted by our sister Lanae. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
The owner of this water-ravaged home in Zumbro Falls still has a sense of humor as Halloween approaches in 2010 following a devastating flood. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2010.
A street scene in Zumbrota, Halloween 2016. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
A doll’s head is part of a Halloween yard display in Hayfield. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.
A vintage Halloween mask for sale at Antiques of the Midwest in Albert Lea. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Following a back road between Zumbrota and Mazeppa on October 18, before our recent snowfall here in southeastern Minnesota.
AS I VIEW THE LANDSCAPE layered in snow and consider the unseasonably cold temp of 12 degrees, I reflect that only 11 days ago, southern Minnesota looked and felt much different. Like the season of autumn rather than winter.
Grain trucks parked in Kenyon.
Today I take you back to October 18, to photos from a Sunday drive that started in Faribault and continued east through Kenyon, Zumbrota, Mazeppa, Oronoco and Pine Island, then back home.
An aged silo between Zumbrota and Mazeppa.
Cattle graze in pastureland between Kenyon and Wanamingo.
On October 18, the day of our drive, farmers were busy harvesting, here in a cornfield between Zumbrota and Mazeppa.
As farm-raised kids, Randy and I enjoy these rural drives that transport us back in time and also give us a much-needed break from the realities of COVID-19, of politics, of life stressors. I never tire of seeing cornfields and farm sites, especially during the harvest.
Farmers on the road were a common site, here on Minnesota State Highway 60 west of Zumbrota.
There’s something about immersing myself in the countryside, about simply being in a rural landscape, that comforts me. That soothes and calms. I need that now more than ever.
The Zumbro River Valley stretches before us between Zumbrota and Mazeppa.
We all have, I think, those places which offer us such a respite. Perhaps yours is a room in your house, a place in nature, maybe even within the pages of a book. I’ve been reading a lot lately and highly-recommend Susan Meissner’s A Fall of Marigolds.
Following another farmer, just outside Zumbrota.
Fall. It’s my favorite season, cut too short this year by an early significant snowfall. I’m not happy about it and I doubt many Minnesotans are. We often boast about our hardiness. Yet, we grow weary, too, of our long, cold winters. Most of us, anyway.
A farm site atop a hill between Zumbrota and Mazeppa.
Yet, we choose to live here. This is home. And always will be for me. No matter the season.
One of the many inspiring signs posted in the Atwood Neighborhood of Madison, Wisconsin. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
SIGNS. I FIND THEMINTRIGUING. Interesting. Telling. A way to communicate a message, a thought, an idea.
I think we can all agree, though, that during this election year, sign overload exists. Political signs clutter yards and buildings, even vehicles and sides of roadways. It’s visually overwhelming at times.
Photographed in Kenyon, Minnesota, on Sunday, October 22.
But some especially meaningful signs have emerged, signs that convey ideas rather than banner a candidate’s name. Those I appreciate because they prompt thought. And that includes the BLACK LIVES MATTER signs I’ve seen, some in Rice County (especially in Northfield), many in the Atwood Neighborhood of Madison, Wisconsin, and, just last week, two posted on a modest house in Kenyon.
I often wonder about the stories behind those posting the BLACK LIVES MATTER (or similar “issue”) signs. Did a personal experience prompt someone to share their views in such a public way? Or rather do they simply believe so strongly in something that they opt to freely express their opinion via signage? Maybe both. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they care about this social justice issue, this human issue really. Even in small towns like Kenyon, population around 1,800.
Messages on a house in small town Dundas, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2020.
I recognize that, when you live in a small community (under 5,000 by my definition), everyone pretty much knows everyone. If you hang a sign like BLACK LIVES MATTER on your front door and porch windows, everyone in town will know. There is no anonymity. You could quickly become the subject of coffee talk or rumors or whatever people choose to circulate. I’m not saying this is the case in Kenyon, just making a general observation.
Posted in the “Selma to Montgomery” exhibit. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2015.
Whatever, at least people will be thinking. Maybe even engaging in meaningful and respectful conversations that promote understanding and healing. Bring fairness and equality. In the current divisive environment, I recognize that’s not easy to achieve. But we must keep trying.
The grain elevator complex in Zumbrota, a busy place especially during the fall harvest. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo October 18, 2020.
TOO OFTEN THESE DAYS, I feel discouraged by all the discord in our country, by the selfishness and lack of care for others.
But then I discover something that lifts my spirits and reaffirms my belief in our goodness, our ability to help one another, to think beyond ourselves and our needs to those of the people around us.
This is the story of such a discovery. Of goodness and kindness and care for those we call our family, neighbors, friends. Or strangers. And this I found in Zumbrota, a small town about a 45-minute drive east of Faribault.
On a recent Sunday afternoon drive through the Zumbro River Valley of southeastern Minnesota, Randy and I stopped in Zumbrota for a picnic lunch, or what was supposed to be a picnic lunch. The weather, only in the 30s and blustery, proved too cold for outdoor dining. We opted to eat in the van while parked outside the public library.
“Heritage of Promise” by Jeff Barber. A third sculpture of a child is not included in this photo.
Directly in our line of vision stood a sculpture of children near a structure, which I soon determined to be an artistic interpretation of an historic covered bridge on the other side of the library. I planned, upon finishing my sandwich, grapes and protein bar, to photograph the art and then we would be on our way.
Some of the words inscribed on the sculpture. In the background, you can see the historic covered bridge.
On any other day, Randy and I would walk across that aged bridge to the park, explore a bit while stretching our legs. But the weather was just too darned cold. I hurried to photograph the sculpture as my fingers numbed.
The Community Cupboard and the Zumbrota Public Library designs both mimic the historic covered bridge nearby.
Once done, I walked back toward the van, only to notice a Little Free Library next to the public library. I found that odd.
As I drew closer, I found I was mistaken. This was not a LFL but rather a Community Cupboard—a source of food and hygiene products. Free for the taking.
The message thereon invites those opening the door of this small structure, designed like the nearby covered bridge, to TAKE WHAT YOU NEED, LEAVE WHAT YOU CAN. Baby formula. Snacks. Dried legumes. I didn’t poke around to see all of the contents.
Rather, as I photographed the Community Cupboard, I felt a sense of gratitude for this “Sharing Our Saviour” food outreach of Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church. I thought of the many times Jesus fed the hungry of body and of soul. And how thankful I am that churches and nonprofits and so many others help people in more ways than we will ever know. This lifts my spirits.
TELL ME: How do you or your community or church (or whatever) help individuals and families in need? I’d like to hear more uplifting stories.
The reason the Rare Pair in Northfield, Minnesota, gives for wearing face masks. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
“…if I didn’t have to wear this stupid mask…”
As his words slid across me, I felt my anger and frustration flare as they too often do these days. I wanted to lash out at him, this guy who expressed his disdain for wearing a face mask. But I held back as I waited for the bank teller to return with my deposit slip. I suppressed the message I wanted to share with him that wearing a mask protects others from COVID-19.
As I write, I picture Dave with his broad smile, his genuine care and concern for others. To run a funeral home, you have to be an individual of compassion and understanding, of grace and kindness. A listener and comforter.
“Protect the herd” plays off the city’s “Cows, Colleges and Contentment” slogan in Northfield, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
All these thoughts filter through my mind when I consider how too many people still fail to wear face masks, fail to follow social distancing guidelines, gather in crowds and/or criticize these public health efforts to stop the spread of COVID-19.
I see this every time I’m in public. The 40-something unmasked dad at the grocery store shopping with his unmasked elementary-aged son while nearby a 4-year-old has no problem masking up. The two men in another grocery store likewise without masks. The customer in the phone store who pulls his mask on and off with no concern for staff or other customers. And the young 20-something who walks into the phone shop like he owns the place, without a care for adhering to the many signs that call for wearing a mask and social distancing inside the business. The waitress at the end of the bar, standing with two other waitresses, her mask below her nose, as we pick up take-out. It is among the reasons I won’t dine at a restaurant. Half-masking doesn’t protect anyone.
I am beyond frustrated with what I perceive as selfishness, lack of care for others and lack of respect for science and our healthcare workers and so much more. At this point in the progression of COVID, I don’t expect opinions to change. I expect the “if I didn’t have to wear this stupid mask” attitude to continue.
From the front page of the Faribault Daily News. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo April 2020.
That brings me back to Dave, now the 10th Rice County resident to die due to complications from COVID-19. But Dave is not just a number. He was a husband, a father, a grandfather, a man who for decades comforted grieving families. Just like the first person, the Rev. Craig Breimhorst, to die of the virus in my county in April.
This is so important to remember. Behind every number, every statistic, is a person. An individual who loved and was loved. Dave was part of my faith family, thus his death from COVID affects me personally. So when I hear someone say, “…if I didn’t have to wear this stupid mask…” or I see people without masks or half-maskers or I hear of people attending sizable social gatherings, I feel my blood pressure and anger rising.
Dave will not have the funeral he deserves, like so many who have passed during COVID-19. His will be a private family service “in consideration of family health risks.” I respect and appreciate that decision. Too many funerals (and weddings) have been the source of COVID outbreaks in Minnesota.
FOR OUR HEALTH AND YOURS, the #1 reason to mask up. Posted at a Northfield business. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Yes, we’re all getting COVID weary. I get that. I understand the challenges, especially as we move into winter and the holiday season. This is not easy. But we have the power to, at the very least, do our best to protect ourselves and each other. To listen to the scientists and health experts. To don our masks. And to make smart, not stupid, choices.
MANY TIMES I’VE PASSEDthrough Kenyon, usually en route to visit family in Madison, Wisconsin, four hours distant. But many times also, this town of some 1,800 about a half hour east of Faribault has been my specific destination. Last Sunday afternoon on a drive to view the harvest and fall colors (before an unexpected snowstorm changed the landscape to winter), Randy aimed our van north out of Monkey Valley toward Kenyon just a few miles away.
This window features a classroom of yesteryear.
A close-up of a focal globe in the classroom display.
More details from the past…
We had no intention of stopping in Kenyon. But the passenger side window needed cleaning so Randy pulled into a corner service station and washed the glass. (He’s thoughtful like that.) Then we continued down Minnesota State Highway 60, which runs through the heart of the business district. As luck would have it, I happened to look, just at the right time, at the Held Bus Service building. And there, in the front windows, I spotted a school-themed display. Photo-worthy, I thought, as I asked Randy to swing around the block and return to the bus building. He even pulled ahead so the van wouldn’t reflect in the glass. (He’s thoughtful like that.)
Look at this bus-themed window display with the apparently handcrafted bus.
Photographing the window art proved challenging given the reflections. But I was determined to do my best. Someone worked hard to craft and create these educational-themed displays that show the importance of the Kenyon-Wanamingo School in this community—right down to the Knights mascot, the happy bus driver in the red cap and the smiling students. Yes, by that time I’d noticed two separate window displays, one an historic classroom and the other themed to school buses.
Love these portraits of students on the bus.
The school mascot even gets a place of honor.
More KW students riding the bus.
As someone who grew up riding the bus for 12 years to schools in southwestern Minnesota, I understand the importance of bus drivers. Mine were Jeff and Harley. Great guys. Friendly. Kind. Competent. It’s not easy driving on rural roads during a Minnesota winter. Nor is it necessarily easy dealing with a bus full of kids.
Presumably Jon Held behind the wheel of the bus.
But Jon Held, owner of Held Bus Service, loves kids. According to a 2016 KARE 11 TV feature on him, he is well-loved, too. He knows kids by name, greeting them daily before and after school (pre-COVID), often with hugs. He keeps a candy stash and one year even handed out his company’s signature red caps to some happy students.
The business is housed in an historic building which was damaged in an August 2016 fire. You can’t tell by looking at it now.
That’s a snapshot of the backstory framing these window displays. These are the stories that define small towns like Kenyon as caring communities, more than simply some place to pass through en route to somewhere else.
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