Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

On the cusp of harvest in southwestern Minnesota October 4, 2013

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Grey skies and rain create a moody scene along U.S. Highway 14 between Sleepy Eye and Lamberton.

Grey skies and rain create a moody scene along U.S. Highway 14 between Sleepy Eye and Lamberton.

RAIN DRIZZLES, SOMETIMES SPLATTERS, across the windshield of our van as my husband and I aim toward the southwestern Minnesota prairie, driving toward Lamberton for a day of making horseradish with my extended family. It is a time-honored tradition, started by my father, dead 10 years now.

For me, this 120-mile trip from our Faribault home is not as much about the horseradish as it is about family and memories and spending a weekend in my beloved native prairie, the place that shaped me in to the person/writer/photographer I’ve become.

This section of U.S. Highway 14 between Sleepy Eye and Lamberton features many stately and well-kept barns like this brick one.

This section of U.S. Highway 14 between Sleepy Eye and Lamberton features many stately and well-kept barns like this brick one.

Even after 40 years away from this place of big skies and flat open spaces, of small towns and family farms, of corn and soybean fields stretching into forever, I still miss this land.

Especially at harvest time.

A cheery smile on a barn off U.S. Highway 14 serves as a backdrop to a ripened soybean field on a grey Saturday morning.

A cheery smile on a barn off U.S. Highway 14 serves as a backdrop to a ripened soybean field on a grey Saturday morning.

As we journey, my head pivots toward the corn and the beans, ripened mostly to muted gold.

I can almost hear the corn leaves rustling in the bendy wind under moody grey skies.

I can almost smell the intoxicating scent of earth that prevails only at harvest time.

I can almost hear the chomping combines and rumbling grain trucks, the roaring tractors and the lumbering grain wagons, parked and silent now as rain sweeps across the acres.

A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County.

A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County.

Later that day, after we’ve reached our rural destination and dug, washed, peeled, chopped, blended and bottled the horseradish, the heaviest of the clouds lift and shift east.

The skies have cleared along Redwood County Road 6 north of Lamberton where corn fields await harvest.

The skies have cleared along Redwood County Road 6 north of Lamberton where corn fields await harvest.

By Sunday morning we awaken to the clear and crisp skies of autumn in rural Minnesota.

Driving U.S. Highway 14 back to Faribault Sunday morning.

Driving U.S. Highway 14 back to Faribault Sunday morning.

It’s a perfect morning.

Barns and ripening crops define the landscape of southwestern Minnesota this time of year.

Barns and ripening crops define the landscape of southwestern Minnesota this time of year.

Sunshine upon fields.

Grain bins await the harvest on a southwestern Minnesota farm.

Grain bins await the harvest on a southwestern Minnesota farm.

Sunshine pooling upon my lap as we aim east, past bins and barns and bountiful fields, back home.

Rounding the curve eastbound into Sleepy Eye.

Rounding the curve eastbound into Sleepy Eye.

Past the ripening crops. Through the small towns, like Lamberton and Springfield and Sleepy Eye.

And when we reach the western outskirts of New Ulm, I feel as if we’ve crossed a line. Menards and Walmart loom to the left. U.S. Highway 14, the Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Highway, is now a four-lane through this German community, busy with traffic and drivers racing to get ahead before the roadway once again narrows to two lanes en route to Mankato.

Barns, like this one, rise above the soon-to-be-harvested corn fields.

Barns, like this one, rise above the soon-to-be-harvested corn fields.

My mood shifts. I’ve left the peace of the prairie, the one place on this earth that holds my soul in solace.

FYI: This post was previously published on streets.mn. The above photos were taken on Saturday, September 28, and Sunday, September 29. Conditions change rapidly during harvest time, so I expect harvest is well underway, although delayed now due to the rain.

A post will be forthcoming on making horseradish.

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mn Prairie Roots’ final photo picks for 2012 January 3, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:23 AM
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TODAY WE’LL VIEW the best of my photos, in my opinion, from the final three months of 2012.

While most of my stories and photos take you to places in Minnesota, sometimes I venture into North Dakota and Wisconsin, home to my son and a daughter.

See me standing down there waving at my daughter atop Eagle Tower? Photo by Miranda Helbling.

See me standing down there waving at my daughter atop Eagle Tower? Photo by Miranda Helbling.

Early OCTOBER found the daughter, my husband and I on a day trip to scenic Door County in northeastern Wisconsin at the peak of fall colors. I would like to take credit for this scenic shot, but Miranda shot this from atop Eagle Tower at Peninsula State Park, Fish Creek. It is the perspective of this image, the balance of objects and contrast of colors, and the fact that I am actually in front of the camera, rather than behind it, which make this photo a winner.

The absolutely fabulous lunch counter at the Highland Cafe.

The absolutely fabulous lunch counter at the Highland Cafe.

The strong horizontal lines, the unexpected jolt of red and the quaintness of this lunch counter scene at the historic Highland Cafe in southeastern Minnesota make this another obvious pick for a favorite photo. In OCTOBER I photographed this cafe, which unbeknownst to me then, would close about a month later. I would encourage you to check out the rest of my cafe photo shoot by clicking here.

My Mom counts the jars of horseradish.

My Mom counts the jars of horseradish.

OCTOBER also took me back to my native southwestern Minnesota, where some members of my extended family gathered at my middle brother’s place to make horseradish. I was allowed to photograph the process in between helping with the horseradish making. After the condiment was poured into jars and lids tightened, my 80-year-mother stepped up to count the jars. That’s when I photographed her hands, resulting in this photo. I’d suggest you click here to view my documentation of horseradish making.

Graffitti

Graffiti

I am big on details when I shoot photos. So when I noticed a manual typewriter at The Emporium during a day trip to Hastings in OCTOBER, I just had to leave my mark. Realizing this would also make for an artsy image, I shot this photo. The composition, limited colors and the bend of the keys all appeal to my eye as does the vintage charm of typing on a manual typewriter.

A customer steps up to the check out counter, where the wood floor is especially worn.

A customer steps up to the check out counter, where the wood floor is especially worn.

Vintage could be applied to another image, this one taken in NOVEMBER at a long-time North Mankato hardware store. My camera and curiosity often give me access to places the ordinary person may never see. Such was this visit to Mutch Hardware, which recently closed. However, photo ops exist right before your eyes, if you will only see them. When I saw the worn floor boards in front of the check-out counter, I knew I had a photo op. So I placed my camera on the floor, angled it up a bit and clicked without ever seeing what the lens saw. This was the result. I’ve used this shoot-from-the-floor/ground angle often with some surprisingly excellent results. To view all of my published pix from Mutch Hardware, click here. 

A scene from November in downtown Fargo.

A scene from November in downtown Fargo.

I can’t quite pinpoint what most appeals to me about this image taken in downtown Fargo in NOVEMBER. But I think it’s the FARGOAN sign, the words “proper & prim” on the window and how both contrast with the hardy man biking by on a blustery cold day which cause this scene to stand out.  I like that the biker is purposely out of focus, defining motion.

A snippet of the many bookshelves at Zandbroz Variety, So artful.

A snippet of the many bookshelves at Zandbroz Variety. So artful.

If you see just a bunch of books crammed onto bookshelves, then you need to examine this image again. I see lines, rectangles, squares and colors repeating. I saw abstract art in this section of Zandbroz Variety during a stop at this eclectic store in downtown Fargo in NOVEMBER.  The angle of the bookshelves draws the eye into the photo.

Every little girl wants to portray an angel...

Every little girl wants to portray an angel…

My top photo picks from DECEMBER are all Christmas-related, including this endearing shot of angels in a Christmas pageant at my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault. Given the poor available light, which meant shooting at a slow shutter speed, I was doubtful I would manage to get any publishable images. But, as luck and timing would have it, I was able to hold the camera still enough and click at the exact right moment to freeze this classic scene.

Some of the guests took home gifts of poinsettias which served as table centerpieces.

Some guests took home gifts of poinsettias which served as table centerpieces at the community dinner.

When my husband and I attended the Community Christmas Dinner at Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church in Faribault, I pulled out my camera after I finished my meal and took a wide range of photos to showcase the event. Soft light pouring in through the glass doors created ideal lighting for this scene in which I noted strong horizontal lines. I also like the balance of the image and how the design on the bulletin board truly encompasses the essence of the community dinner. I was pleased with so many of the photos I shot here and I’d encourage you to check them out by clicking here.

Although the wise men did not arrive at the birth of Christ, they are typically depicted in nativities. I added the "star" with an editing tool to enhance the image.

Although the wise men did not arrive at the birth of Christ, they are typically depicted in nativities. I added the “star” with an editing tool to enhance the image.

Finally, my last photo pick for 2012 was shot at the outdoor Nativity scene in front of Buckham Memorial Library and the Faribault Community Center. After viewing the image above, I felt something was missing, and that “something” was a star. So I added a “star” with an editing tool and this is the result.

This concludes a three-part review of my favorite Minnesota Prairie Roots photos from 2012. It’s been my honor to share these photos with you, to perhaps give you a new perspective on a scene, to take you to a place you’ve never been, to experience something you’ve never done…

In all of my photos, I strive to tell a story. And to do so, I present overall views and detailed shots. Seldom do I simply stand and shoot. You will find me crawling on the floor/ground, bending, climbing onto chairs and elsewhere, moving in close, photographing from unexpected angles. I am not afraid to wiggle my way into a place to get just the right shot. I consider color and lines and light. I anticipate how a scene will unfold.

Long ago I stopped viewing the world like the average person. Everywhere I see photos and stories waiting to be shared via images and words. Thank you for allowing me to share my discoveries with you, my dear, dear readers.

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Meet blogger Gretchen O’Donnell & her family June 10, 2012

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So we’re a bit camera shy…bloggers Gretchen O’Donnell, left, of “A Fine Day For an Epiphany” and “The View From my Window” and Audrey Kletscher Helbling of “Minnesota Prairie Roots.” In other words, of the several frames my husband shot, this is the only one that was in focus and publishable.

MOST OF US have been there—met someone and instantly clicked.

I’ve felt that way about Gretchen O’Donnell of rural Bigelow, whom I “met” last fall. We didn’t actually meet-meet until Saturday when Gretchen and her family rolled into Faribault.

They were in town to attend the musical, A Year with Frog and Toad, in which their friend, Eric Parrish of Worthington, is starring. It was the perfect opportunity for me to meet Gretchen, a talented writer who is among my favorite Minnesota bloggers. She was one of 10 bloggers I profiled in a recent article published in Minnesota Moments magazine.

Gretchen has been blogging for a little more than a year now at “A Fine Day For an Epiphany.” And she also recently began blogging for The Worthington Daily Globe at “The View From my Window.” She is a blogger who writes for the pure joy of writing. And anyone with that type of passion is destined to become a friend of mine.

Read Gretchen’s posts and you can sense her love of language and of storytelling. She writes with honesty and humor about everything from growing up on Orcas Island in Washington to a skunk perfuming the family cat to her attempt at canning tomatoes. She’s also writing a book.

What you read on Gretchen’s blogs are Gretchen in person. She is warm and friendly and engaging and caring and exactly the type of person you would want to call a friend.

The O’Donnell family, clockwise from left, Gretchen, Ian, Colin, Lucy and Katie.

Her family—husband, Colin, and children Ian, Katie and Lucy—are equally as likable. My husband, Randy, and I loved having them for supper on Saturday. Now Gretchen would argue that we dined together for “dinner.” She hasn’t adopted the rural southwestern Minnesota terminology of “supper” for the evening meal.

Nor has this Washingtonian (is that a word, Gretchen?) adapted totally to the flat prairie landscape of southwestern Minnesota where she’s lived for about 15 years. She misses the mountains and trees and ocean. I told Colin on Saturday that I’m working to convince his wife that the prairie possesses its own beauty. She may be coming around.

Let me tell you a little more about the O’Donnell family. They love theatre. I suppose that is obvious since they drove nearly three hours from Bigelow (on the Iowa/Minnesota border) to Faribault for the Saturday evening musical at the Paradise Center for the Arts. Last summer the O’Donnells acted in Beauty and the Beast in Worthington. This August all five are performing in The Music Man.

When I asked for a fun photo, this is what I got. Love it.

I just want to interject here that when the O’Donnells drove to Faribault on Saturday, they did not take the interstate. “That would be boring,” Gretchen said. Precisely the way I think when it comes to travel, Gretchen. Their more back roads route took the family through Mankato where they caught a glimpse of The Blue Angels. Had they traveled the interstate, they would have missed the U.S. Navy precision flying team.

And now, thanks to Ian, eldest of the three O’Donnell children, I am going to try raw asparagus. I know this has nothing to do with planes or theatre, but when the kids were plucking black raspberries from wild bushes in my backyard, we got on the subject of gardening. Ian told me how much he likes raw asparagus. I promised I would try it. (But I never promised this physics-loving boy that I would ever like physics.)

Can you believe these O’Donnell kids even eat horseradish? Yes, I put out a jar of the homemade condiment and they, along with Colin, ate, and enjoyed it. Gretchen passed. She’s tried it once and that was enough. I understand. I feel that way about lutefisk.

Then there’s Katie…she likes reading and science and apparently singing since she has a solo in The Music Man. I asked her about being the middle child and, well, let’s just say she and my middle sister could commiserate over shared middle child experiences.

And finally, there’s little Lucy, darling, sweet, adorable curly-haired Lucy, a five-year-old who chalked a swimming pool onto my driveway, clung to her crocheted blanket (named “Buddy,” not a boy, but a girl blanket) and her mom for all of about five minutes before she felt right at home and who, the last time the family dined at the Rainforest Cafe at the Mall of America, was terrified of the gorillas.

It is details like these that endear me to a family like the O’Donnells. They are real and honest and good people who possess strong family values and a strong faith in God and a strong work ethic. Gretchen and Colin even limit computer time for their kids and, gasp, don’t allow the television set to be switched on on Thursdays. And, yes, their kids are polite and well-behaved and fun and absolutely wonderful.

When we parted on Saturday evening, it seemed as if we’d known the O’Donnells for years rather than for only three hours.

O’Donnell family, you’re welcome back to our home anytime.

FYI: To read Gretchen O’Donnell’s personal blog, “A Fine Day For an Epiphany,” click here.

To read her other blog, “The View From my Window,” click here.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In the middle November 5, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:50 PM
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TODAY I HAVE SEVERAL STORIES to share with you, all with a single common denominator: the middle.

Let’s start with the most recent. I made myself a sandwich for lunch—a little mayo, turkey deli meat and ham deli meat with a slice of pepperjack cheese layered in the middle. Nothing unusual about that.

The second half of my sandwich, minus the...

Until I bit into the sandwich and hit something that didn’t seem quite right. But I kept biting and chewing, thinking it was just the rough grains in the multi-grained bread or an edge on the meat.

But after several bites, I paused to investigate and discovered a piece of paper. Yes, people, I was eating the paper that separates cheese slices. I had removed one piece of paper while making the sandwich. Clearly I had not checked the flip side of the cheese slice.

WARNING: Always remove the paper from BOTH sides of the cheese slice before eating.

In relaying this story to my husband, he could only shake his head, laugh and repeat several times, “That’s my Audrey.”

Now onto those other “middle” stories, which have cast me in the role of a “middlewoman.”

Earlier this week I received a request from a retired Air Force chaplain for commissioned artwork. Not my art; I don’t paint or draw or sculpt or anything artsy like that. Rather, the retired military man was looking to contact Richard Vilendrer, a 72-year-old Faribault artist whom I met at the Faribault Farmers’ Market and featured in a September blog post. I spoke with Richard’s wife Carol several days ago and now I’m waiting to hear if Richard is being commissioned.

An example of Richard's nature and faith-inspired pen-and-ink and colored pencil artwork.

Another inquiry this week came from a videographer for Farm Rescue, an organization that helps farmers in need. The North Dakota man was requesting permission to use images from a July 1 storm (in southwestern Minnesota) which I published on my blog. Because I hadn’t taken the two photos he wanted, I had to contact my brother and my uncle. Done. I’ll tell you more about this organization next week.

Then, the same day, an inquiry came via a blog comment from a South Dakota writer. She wanted to know if I knew of a Minnesota organization that works to preserve prairie churches. I don’t. Do you?

On Friday I learned that I made my first art sale. Again, not my art. Not my money. But a reader saw my photo of a hideous “turkey choir” print in a blog post about a Stockholm, Wisconsin, antique shop and promptly put the print on hold to purchase. Do I get a commission on this sale?

The "singing turkeys" print I helped to sell.

Finally, today, a metro woman asked, via a blog comment, if I could find the man at the Faribault Farmers’ Market who sold fresh horseradish. I knew exactly who she needed to contact. So I dialed Dennis Gare’s number, spoke to his wife and hopefully fresh horseradish will soon be on its way to this reader’s house.

You might rightly conclude from the above stories, with the exception of that paper eating incident, that I am truly a “middlewoman.” And all because of the power of this blog.

Thank you, readers, for reading Minnesota Prairie Roots. Happy to help you if you’re in the market for art, photos, information or horseradish.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hotdish, but not on a stick August 26, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:46 PM
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TYPICALLY MY POSTS focus on a single subject. But not today. I’m serving hotdish. And since the Minnesota State Fair opened Thursday, pretend it’s hotdish on a stick, which actually can be purchased, with cream of mushroom dipping sauce, from vendors Ole and Lena’s. Ja, sure, ya betcha.

This year you’ll also find, for the first time at the Great Minnesota Get Together, chocolate covered jalapeno peppers.

Now, you might think Minnesotans would hesitate to try jalapeno anything given our primarily Scandinavian and German taste buds. But I can tell you that two summers ago I found Dennis Gare pushing chocolate covered jalapenos at the Faribault Farmers’ Market and they were selling like lefse at a Norwegian dinner.

Dennis Gare's chocolate covered jalapenos, which I photographed two years ago.

At the time, Dennis told me the jalapenos were creating quite a buzz among customers and vendors. He’s one of those savvy marketing types who create atypical foods—like pickled eggs and horseradish—that will attract customers and increase sales.

I checked in with Dennis last Saturday and jokingly asked if he was the vendor peddling the chocolate covered jalapeno peppers at the State Fair. Nope. That would be Andre’s Watermelon. But he was a little worried about the fieriness of the over-sized jalapenos on a stick.

If you attend the State Fair and try a chocolate covered jalapeno pepper, submit a comment. I’d like to report back to Dennis down at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. Click here to read my July 20, 2009, post about Dennis’ jalapenos.

SINCE I’M ON THE SUBJECT of the State Fair, I need to give a shout-out to the new Princess Kay of the Milky Way, 18-year-old Mary Zahurones from Pierz, a community of about 1,300 north of St. Cloud in Morrison County and along Minnesota Highway 25, a main route to the Brainerd Lakes area.

The new princess had her head carved in a 90-pound block of butter at the fair yesterday.

Anyway, I know a little about the princess’ hometown of Pierz. My husband graduated from Pierz Healy High School in, well, let’s just say a long, long, long time ago. The new princess graduated from my spouse’s alma mater several months ago, and you’ll find her princess photo proudly showcased on the District 484 website home page.

Two other interesting tidbits about Pierz: The town was originally called Rich Prairie, but was renamed after a Catholic priest, Father Francis Xavier Pierz. He is recognized as “The Father of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Saint Cloud,” having settled in central Minnesota in 1852 as a missionary to Native Americans and having attracted many German Catholic immigrants to the area. You’ll find a statue of the good Father in a Pierz park, moved there last year from the St. Cloud Hospital.

Secondly, if you like bologna, and I don’t, but apparently central Minnesotans do, you can check out Bologna Days every Wednesday at the Red Rooster Bar & Grill in Genola (just south of Pierz) or every Thursday at Patrick’s Bar & Grill in Pierz. Really. This information is listed in the F.A.Q.’s section of the city website and, no bologna, I have seen a Bologna Days sign with my very own eyes.

Magnetic Catholic: St. Francis of Assisi

AS LONG AS WE’RE TALKING Catholic here, even though I’m Lutheran, I simply must point you to the “Magnetic Catholic” paper (well, not really paper) dolls which I first learned about from a Michigan writer on her blog, House Unseen. Click here to read that post and then click here to see the Magnetic Catholic Etsy shop.

I swear—oops, probably shouldn’t be swearing—you’ll have your socks charmed right off you by the likes of the Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, St. Francis of Assisi and the Blessed Pope John Paul II.

ONE MORE THING, totally unrelated to Catholics, dairy princesses, or anything on a stick.

But, apparently the latest trend among hip, young Minneapolitans is to carry iced coffee or similar drinks around in a (Mason/Ball/Kerr) pint canning jar.

I learned this from my eldest, who drove down to Faribault Thursday evening so her personal mechanic/Dad could check her car. After we gathered home-grown tomatoes, flowers and a few other niceties for her to take back home to south Minneapolis, she asked if I had any canning jars.

A hip canning jar.

I know my daughter well enough to realize she didn’t need them for canning. Heck, I don’t even can.

So we traipsed down to the basement and poked around until we found two pint jars, rings and lids. She was one happy Uptowner.

SO THERE, I HOPE YOU enjoyed your serving of hotdish. Mighty tasty, huh?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Honoring the memory of my dad April 4, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:19 AM
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Elvern Kletscher's 1950s military photo

HIS OBITUARY READS IN PART: From 1952-1953, he served in the U.S. Army during the Korean Conflict. He served on the front lines, receiving the Purple Heart after being wounded…He enjoyed his weekly visits with his veterans support group. He enjoyed bird watching, making horseradish and tomato juice with his family.

Elvern Kletscher passed away Thursday, April 3, 2003, at the Sunwood Good Samaritan Center in Redwood Falls, Minnesota at the age of 72 years and 29 days.

Yesterday, on the eight-year anniversary of my father’s death, I failed to remember. How could I? How could I forget the day he died, the day I lost my dad? How could I?

It breaks my heart that I would forget. This failure to remember the date of his death seems like a dishonor to the father I loved. He was a man who worked hard tending the earth, who loved his family and God. He was a soldier who served his country and, because of his time on the killing fields of Korea, suffered from a lifetime of demons that at times robbed me of my father.

But in the end, in his last days, I came to terms with the issues that sometimes made life with him difficult and challenging. I saw only the goodness as I stood at his bedside in the Veterans Administration Hospital where he lay dying of cancer and congestive heart failure.

As I held his hand, stroked his thick white hair, held a straw to his lips, I tried to be brave, to cheer him, to comfort him.

But when I couldn’t keep my emotions in check any more, I fled his room, stood outside his hospital room and wept.

Once I pulled myself back together, I returned to his bedside, listened to him tell me he was going to a better place, that he wanted all of us to take care of Mom. And then I cried, right there, holding nothing back because I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.

Two days later, after being transported back to his home county, into a nursing home, my dad died.

And on April 7 we buried him, deep in the soil, in the hillside cemetery that overlooks his beloved prairie, the place where, except for his time in the military, he lived his entire life.

On that gloomy April day of biting cold wind, I held my mom close, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as she shivered uncontrollably. Together with my siblings we huddled inside a tent, next to the coffin.

As the guns fired in a military salute, as taps sounded their mournful wail, as my mom accepted a carefully folded American flag, I wept.

Today I weep, too, as I remember the father I loved.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Could sauerkraut juice treat a bad case of itchy feet? August 18, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:17 AM
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I HADN’T INTENDED to publish another health post today. Honestly. But then I never planned to suffer from a severe case of itchiness either.

My feet look like a minefield of scratched open bug bites. And they could be—chigger bites. Or so I thought. Yesterday, my physician seemed to be leaning toward poison ivy, or even poison oak, as he diagnosed contact dermatitis.

Whatever label is tacked onto my current condition doesn’t really matter, he added, because all would be treated with a prescription corticosteroid ointment to reduce itching, redness and swelling.

Uh, huh. After two applications, I still had itching, redness and swelling. I was anticipating immediate relief.

WARNING: If you are squeamish, please scroll down. Due to inheriting crooked toes from my maternal grandfather, my feet are not pretty under normal circumstances. But then add a case of poison ivy or chiggers, or whatever I have, and they are less attractive. As you can see, I scratched and scratched and scratched some more. I could not help myself. I started counting the welts and stopped at 25.

Last night I even sought out advice from a local pharmacist, who, after I asked, told me that a prepackaged oatmeal bath treatment would be a waste of my money. Instead, he steered me to an over-the-counter antihistamine. Reluctant to use this allergy medication, I purchased it anyway, quite confident that I would not need the product.

When I arrived home with my package of magic pills, my husband Randy advised me to keep the receipt. He knows me well. I wasn’t ready to pop any antihistamine tablets.

Instead, I tried soaking my feet in a cool baking soda bath, which did nothing except make my feet wet.

As bedtime approached, along with the prospect of an itchy, sleepless night, that antihistamine was sounding more doable. Yet, I resisted, applied the corticosteroid ointment and went to bed.

Ninety minutes later, still awake and crazy with itchiness, I was now ready to swallow the allergy medication that promised to stop the itching and make me drowsy. But first, I tried the baking soda bath again, hoping it would work the second time around. It didn’t.

Off to bed with the antihistamine infiltrating my system, the intense itching finally stopped. But the drowsy quotient of the drug failed.

This morning I arose around 6:30 after a mostly sleepless night. My feet still look like a war zone. But the itchiness, for the most part, has subsided.

But, if it returns, I’m prepared.

At the height of my itchiness yesterday, when I was nearly in tears, Randy asked, “What would your grandma do?”

I thought for a moment. “Sauerkraut.”

Quick to inject humor into the situation, he advised that I stomp sauerkraut. But then he offered a second suggestion: “Apply a horseradish paste.”

DEAR READERS, how have you dealt with contact dermatitis caused by chigger bites (unlikely in my case), poison ivy (likely, although I have not tromped through the woods, but have walked through strangers’ and friends’ yards, sat around two campfires and been in a cow pasture recently) or poison oak (whatever that may be)?

Have you tried sauerkraut juice, horseradish paste or some other home remedy? Please e-mail your suggestions by posting a comment. My feet are counting on you for relief.

Just in case you wanted another angle of my pock-marked foot, here you go. I tried to photograph my right foot, but gave up. It doesn't look quite as bad as the left. But it's still awful-looking and now sports one water blister.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering my dad April 3, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:40 AM
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Elvern Kletscher, right, and a fellow solider in Korea.

I PULL OPEN the bottom file drawer and reach inside, rifling through the folders until I find it: “Elvern K. (Obits, death certif.)”

Today marks seven years since my dad, Elvern Kletscher, died at age 72 of esophageal cancer.

Every April 3, I reread my father’s obituary. I remember the man who enjoyed making tomato juice and horseradish. I remember the farmer who milked cows and worked the land. I remember my soldier-dad who struggled with the demons of war. I remember the father who loved his family and his Lord and left his children and grandchildren with a legacy of faith.

So it is while attending Good Friday services at my church that I think of my dad and his death.

I blame the pastor.

He begins his sermon by painting a picture of a loved one upon his/her death bed surrounded by family.

I am here, at the Veterans Administration Medical Center in Minneapolis on a Tuesday evening with my husband and son. We are at my dad’s bedside, two days before his death, although we do not know then that he will live only two more days.

The focus, says the pastor, is on making the patient comfortable.

I seek out a nurse for a glass of ice water to quench the thirst of my dying father. I lean in close, place a straw between his parched lips, so he can drink.

The family is gathered there, continues the preacher, to hear the dying wishes of the loved one.

“Take care of Mom,” he says. I listen to my father’s wishes as tears stream down my face. I can barely endure the grief. Although I am well aware that my dad will soon be gone, “soon” has always been an undefined time that I cannot comprehend.

It is then that the pastor’s message fully makes the impact he desired. I sense the grief the disciples felt in realizing their Lord would die. Tears seep into the corners of my eyes and I wonder if I will break down and flee from the sanctuary for the pain of this moment.

I am crying now, weeping, as my dad comforts me. He tells me not to cry, that he is going to a better place. I know that he speaks the truth. Yet I cannot endure the words. So I leave his side, but for a brief time, to stand outside his hospital room, to cry my tears of sorrow.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Chocolate covered jalapenos July 20, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:29 AM
Chocolate covered jalapenos

Chocolate covered jalapenos

“Chocolet covered jalapenos” the sign attached to the side of the cooler reads. Dennis flips open the lid, pulls out a tray of chocolet covered jalapeno peppers and places them on the table before me.

“You spelled chocolate wrong,” I blurt, explaining that I am an English minor and I can’t overlook the misspelling.

“It’s French. Choc-o-LET,” emphasizes Lois, who’s stepped across the sidewalk to see what all the fuss is about at Dennis’ table.

We laugh. I don’t bother to correct Dennis on the spelling of the “Pickeled eggs” he’s selling for a quarter at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. He’s more interested in getting me to try an egg after my refusal to try a chocolet jalapeno. I love chocolate but…

Dennis dips into the wide-mouth container he stores inside another cooler and fishes out a hard-boiled egg the color of pale mustard. The pungent sting of vinegar nips at my nostrils. I’m not so sure about this, especially when an audience awaits my reaction. I cautiously bite into the cold, slippery egg.

“It’s OK.” I pause. “It’s different. How Minnesotan is that?”

Again, laughter. I ask Dennis how he came up with chocolet covered jalapenos. He saw them on a television food show.

“It’s kind of a buzz down here, what I’m doing,” Dennis says, explaining how he strives to offer unusual foods to customers. He also peddles horseradish. And this Saturday morning, he’s sold 27 loaves of apple and zucchini bread he’s baked.

As for those jalapenos, I suppose some brave souls will plunk down two bits for one of Dennis’ chocolet sensations.

I, however, prefer my chocolate without jalapenos, please. And my jalapenos without chocolet.

(Check back for more blogs about the Faribault Farmers’ Market this week. This Central Park market proved a hotbed for photos and stories.)