Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Utica, not New York, but Minnesota February 23, 2016

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A farm site just minutes east of Utica.

A farm site just minutes east of Utica in southeastern Minnesota.

YOU NEVER KNOW what oddities will surprise you in a small town, which is precisely why I delight in exploring rural communities.

Utica, a town of about 300 located along U.S. Highway 14 between Rochester and Winona, definitely presented some attractions worth photographing this past September. I use the word “attractions” loosely. What I find interesting may go unnoticed by others.

I'm always happy to see a grain elevator that has been maintained and is appreciated.

I’m always happy to see a grain elevator that has been maintained and is appreciated. These are small town treasures.

It was the red and grey grain elevator jutting above Utica that drew my husband and me off the highway and into this community as a freight train roared through town.

Utica may not have a website, but it has this sign to tell you a bit about the town.

Utica may not have a website, but it has this sign to tell you a bit about the town.

From there we swung onto Main Street and noted that Utica was founded in 1858, if the signage on Utica Storage is accurate. We laughed at the “ELV. PRETTY HIGH” notation.

The law.

The law…

...up close.

…up close.

And, if not for Randy, I would have missed the 10 Commandments posted on the front of the building.

The "can't miss it" house.

The “can’t miss it” house.

Then, in a residential area, a Victorian house painted in lavender hues presided on a corner. I wondered for a second if it might be a tea house, but saw no such signage. Apparently the owner just really likes this hue given the outbuildings are also painted lavender.

This reminded me of my Aunt Marilyn, whose house is not lavender, but who loves the color. And I once worked with legendary Northfield News editor Maggie Lee, who wore only lavender.

Utica is definitely a farming community.

Utica is definitely a farming community.

Utica’s final attractions were two tractors—a wonderfully restored John Deere and a rusting Farmall—staged for sale outside a shed.

Now, if we’d taken the fast route home via Interstate 90, we would have missed all of this. Utica would remain just a sign along the interstate. I would know nothing of its character, its individuality, its colors.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Beyond a surface question February 22, 2016

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I converted this image to black-and-white and upped the brightness. This was shot on the Minnesota Highway 19 curve just north of Vesta, my southwestern Minnesota hometown.

Sometimes travel through life is easy. Clear vistas. Clear vision. Sunshine and goodness. But other times life isn’t good. Storms and challenges prevail. Yet, the question remains the same, “How are you?” Do you answer honestly, or do you pretend all is fine? (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo from March 2012, photographed along Minnesota State Highway 19 just north of Vesta.)

“HOW ARE YOU?” I dislike that question. It’s trite and mostly a meaningless nicety.

Does anyone really want an honest answer?

When I’ve failed to respond with the expected “good,” eyes shift downward, feet fidget, uncomfortableness wedges in.

What if I’m not good? What if life isn’t great and fine and wonderful? Then what?

I will tell you I’m OK. And, if you’re listening, you may pause. Worry may fleet across your face. But, if you’re like most people, you won’t push. You’ll walk away.

Recently I told a friend I didn’t like the “How are you?” question. So now, whenever we see each other, she says, “It’s good to see you.” I like that. Those words are warm and welcoming and, because I know my friend, genuine.

Perhaps we all ought to try being a little more genuine with one another. Caring beyond casual surface conversation. Picking up on cues that maybe everything isn’t alright. And then, listening. Really listening.

If you ask the question “How are you?”, ask because you truly care. Not just to make polite conversation.

Thoughts?

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, the lovely historic buildings of Weaver, Minnesota February 19, 2016

Another view of Carl and Marie Noble's studio and galleries.

The former Weaver Mercantile anchors Weaver.

MY KNOWLEDGE OF WEAVER is limited mostly to visual impressions. Digital images taken during a brief stop last September document an unincorporated Mississippi River settlement rich in history. That history reveals itself in aged buildings, like Weaver Mercantile.

Weaver United Methodist Church with the historic former schoolhouse next door.

Weaver United Methodist Church with an historic former schoolhouse next door.

A block or so away, Weaver United Methodist Church still welcomes the faithful into the congregation’s original house of worship. Except on Sundays when the temperature plummets to 10 degrees below zero or colder. The church building maintains its historic charm with modern touches, according to the church website. Indoor plumbing was only just installed in 2008.

The old schoolhouse is painted a lovely buttery yellow.

The old schoolhouse is painted a lovely buttery yellow.

Next to the church rests a lovely 1910 one-room schoolhouse, restored in 2008 by a couple for use as a get-away cottage and a weaving studio.

An unidentified building near the schoolhouse.

An unidentified building near the schoolhouse.

And then there’s an aged boxy building topped by a cupola. Perhaps a former creamery?

Even the schoolhouse bell tower was restored.

Even the schoolhouse bell tower was restored.

Places like Weaver—home to about 50 residents along U.S. Highway 61 north of Winona—intrigue me. I am always pleased to discover such settlements where remnants of history remain in aged buildings. I long to step inside these buildings, to open front doors like I am opening a book of stories.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Murals & a myth at an historic mercantile in Weaver February 18, 2016

The historic former Weaver Mercantile Buiilding, once home to Noble Studio & Gallery.

The historic former Weaver Mercantile Building, once home to Noble Studio & Gallery.

AGED BUILDINGS, like one in Weaver just off U.S. Highway 61 in southeastern Minnesota, intrigue me. Initially, the architecture and photographic opportunities draw me in. But then I start thinking about the history and the stories.

Carl and Marie Noble opened Noble Studio & Gallery here in 1955.

Carl and Marie Noble opened Noble Studio & Galleries here in 1955.

As luck would have it, a local was jogging down the street toward the former Weaver Mercantile when I happened upon the historic building during an early September get-away. She tipped me off that the building last housed an art gallery. Signage confirmed that. The current owner, she added, lives on the second floor.

Historic designation came six years after Carl Noble's death.

Historic designation came six years after Carl Noble’s death.

The young woman also expressed her dream of someday transforming the place into a winery. She and her husband, she said, make wine from black caps growing wild on the hillside behind their Weaver home. Then she continued on her run through this unincorporated village of some 50 residents and I continued my exterior photographic exploration of this building listed on the National Register of Historic Places. According to the 1978 nomination for historic designation, the building is a “well-preserved example of commercial architecture in the Mississippi River Valley.” Hardware, groceries and dry goods were once sold in the first floor of Weaver Mercantile while furniture was sold on the upper floor. Additionally, the building housed the Weaver Post Office for many years.

A mural on the east side of the building denotes this as an artist's haven. Cannot you decipher the first word for me?

A mural on the east side of the building denotes this as an artist’s haven. Can you decipher the first word in the top portion, left?

Wanting to know more, I continued my internet search. In 1955, artist Carl E. Noble claimed this place as Noble Studio & Galleries (his home, studio and gallery). He died in 1972. An obituary for his widow, Marie Noble, who died 11 years ago, yielded the most information.

More signage toward the back of the building.

More signage toward the back of the building promotes Noble’s art.

Carl was, by the few accounts I found, an artist for the Federal Art Project of the Work Projects Administration in 1938. His name is listed among photos of FAP art in the Archives of American Art at the Smithsonian Institution.

Another view of Carl and Marie Noble's studio and galleries.

Another view of Carl and Marie Noble’s studio and galleries.

A muralist, cartoonist, illustrator and portrait artist, Carl Noble reportedly studied under Norman Rockwell (according to his wife Marie’s obit). I’ve been unable to verify that via a second source. However, the Nobles lived for awhile in Boston; Rockwell made his home in Stockbridge, MA.

The building was constructed in 1875 and opened as Weaver Mercantile.

The building was constructed in 1875 and opened as Weaver Mercantile.

I discovered that Carl painted six oil on canvas murals for Fire House, Southside Hose Co. No. 2 in Hempstead, New York, in 1938. The artwork depicts the history of local firefighting. Other than that, I’ve been unable to find other information of his WPA art or work at Noble Studio & Galleries. The former gallery itself, though, apparently showcases Carl’s murals on interior walls. If only I could have gotten inside to see and photograph his artwork.

One can only imagine the fun times here as guests enjoyed Marie's hospitality.

One can only imagine the fun times here as guests enjoyed Marie’s hospitality.

After her husband’s death in 1972, Marie opened a Bed & Breakfast in their home with a party area in the basement. That would explain the faded Mardi Gras Lounge sign above a back entry.

An overview of the Mardi Gras entry at the back of the building.

An overview of the Mardi Gras entry at the back of the building.

Marie reportedly regaled guests with stories, including that Jesse James robbed the Mercantile on his way to robbing the First National Bank in Northfield, Minnesota. Not believing everything I read, I contacted Mark Lee Gardner, noted historian, writer and musician on the western experience. He penned a book, Shot All to Hell: Jesse James, the Northfield Raid, and the Wild West’s Greatest Escape. He confirmed what I suspected. The story of the Weaver robbery is just that, a story.

Here’s Gardner’s response to my inquiry:

I’m afraid the story of Jesse robbing the building in Weaver, Minnesota, isn’t true. The Northfield Raid, as well as the known movements of the James-Younger gang, was heavily reported in the Minnesota newspapers at the time, and if they had been connected with a robbery in Weaver, it should appear in those papers. I never came across any mention of Weaver in my research. The other problem is that the gang didn’t go through Weaver on its way to Northfield. They are documented as having come from the west and south of Northfield.

…There are lots of Jesse James stories out there, and most of them are from someone’s imagination.

My first view of the former Weaver Mercantile and Noble Studio & Galleries.

My first view of the former Weaver Mercantile and Noble Studio & Galleries.

Still, none of this diminishes my appreciation for the Italianate style building in Weaver and my interest in the artists (Marie’s obit notes that she created many lovely paintings) who once lived and created therein.

The village of Weaver is located along U.S. Highway 61 north of Winona in Wabasha County.

The village of Weaver is located along U.S. Highway 61 north of Winona in Wabasha County.

IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING MORE about Carl and Marie Noble, their gallery and art or about the history of the building, I’d like to hear.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“She loved the man who shot her…” February 17, 2016

Statistics on a The Clothesline Project t-shirt from the Minnesota Coaltition for Battered Women..

Statistics on a The Clothesline Project t-shirt from the Minnesota Coalition for Battered Women. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2015.

My sister was in love. She loved the man who shot her after running her down like an animal hunted for sport. This didn’t happen in a day or even a week or a year.

It happened slowly over the years with little hints of control…

Dear readers, please read these words and more on a GoFundMe page set up to cover funeral expenses for 28-year-old Trisha Nelson. This southern Minnesota native was killed on February 12 “in a horrific act of domestic violence” in Plymouth. Trisha is our state’s second known victim of domestic violence in 2016.

Tanya Fure writes her sister’s heart-wrenching story, with this advice:

I’m begging that if you are even thinking you might be in an unhealthy situation—SEEK HELP.

Tanya’s words are powerful as she now becomes the voice for her dead sister. The sister whose ashes she will now bury and scatter. By sharing her sister’s story, Tanya hopes to give others the strength to leave unhealthy relationships and to live. Free. Untethered from those who control and manipulate and abuse. And sometimes kill.

FYI: If you are in an abusive relationship or even think you are, seek help. You are so worth it. Contact a local crisis resource center or women’s shelter for help and support. If you are in immediate danger, call 911. Leaving an abuser is the most dangerous time; have a plan to leave safely. Additional information is available, for abuse victims, family, friends and survivors by clicking on any of these links:
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Minnesota Coalition for Battered Women (Gifts to MCBW are suggested by the family in Trisha’s honor.)
NO MORE

 

My view of “The Cities” February 16, 2016

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MINNEAPOLIS AND ST. PAUL. Two cities. The Twin Cities. Or, as I called them growing up, simply The Cities.

Frame 7: I love this painterly view of the Minneapolis skyline.

The Minneapolis skyline, Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo October 2015.

I am more familiar with Minneapolis, specifically south Minneapolis where an aunt and uncle lived until retiring to Arkansas.

Sailboats sit upon the waters of Lake Harriet.

Sailboats sit upon the waters of Lake Harriet. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, September 2009.

About once a year during my childhood, our farm family would pile into the Chevy—Dad, Mom, six kids and Grandpa—to visit our metro dwelling relatives. And, on a few occasions during summers of my youth, I boarded the Greyhound bus in Vesta to travel solo some 140 miles to Minneapolis for one-on-one time with my Aunt Rachel. We would bike around Lake Harriet, tour the Rose Garden, catch a city bus to purchase fabric at Munsingwear.

The Minnesota state capitol

The Minnesota state capitol, Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

To the east in St. Paul, my youthful memories connect to the State Capitol building and Minnesota History Center, which I toured as a sixth grader. I waited in our farmhouse kitchen one dark spring morning for headlights to swing into the yard indicating my ride to Vesta Elementary School had arrived. My stomach churned at the thought of leaving Redwood County on a school bus bound for St. Paul.

Driving through St. Paul on a recent Saturday morning.

Driving through St. Paul on a recent Saturday morning.

Growing up in a rural area, I’ve never been particularly comfortable in big cities. Traffic and tall buildings and cement and closeness and busyness sometimes overwhelm my senses. But I manage and I appreciate the cultural opportunities a place like the Twin Cities offers, although I seldom take advantage of such offerings.

Creeping along in a congested area near downtown Minneapolis.

Creeping along in a congested area near downtown Minneapolis. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

My trips to The Cities are primarily through or around. To visit family.

Approaching St. Paul from the south, the speed limit drops.

Approaching St. Paul from the south, the speed limit drops.

Each city, I’ve observed, has a unique look and feel. Minneapolis appears urban while St. Paul seems rooted to the land with a deep sense of place and history. I feel more comfortable in St. Paul, where even the Interstate 35-E speed limit drops to 45 mph for awhile upon entering the city. In Minneapolis, traffic races along Interstate 35-W toward downtown.

For awhile, my eldest daughter and son-in-law rented an apartment in a high-rise in the Mears Park neighborhood of Lowertown St. Paul. It’s the happening place, akin to Uptown or Northeast Minneapolis. The daughter lived in Uptown prior to her marriage and subsequent move to St. Paul. Now she and her husband have settled in a northern burb.

I prefer gravel roads to interstates. My East Coast dwelling son appreciates the extensive mass transit system in Boston.

I prefer gravel roads to interstates. This scene was photographed while traveling under an Interstate overpass in St. Paul. My East Coast dwelling son appreciates the extensive mass transit system in Boston.

My rural roots, and those of my husband, have not threaded into the DNA of our offspring. All three of our adult children live in metropolitan areas—in Minnesota, Wisconsin and Massachusetts. They need to be where they are happiest and feel most comfortable.

Not where I wish they lived. Geographically close and far away from any place defined as The Cities.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Valentine’s Day love at Sunday School February 14, 2016

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SS Valentine's Day, 48 stack of valentines

 

HOW WAS YOUR Valentine’s Day?

Except for the hour I spent photographing Sunday School students and their families, mine would have been just another Sunday. Early to church, followed by bible study. Then brunch at home prepared by my husband.

But because I’ve recently become the go-to person to document happenings at my church, Trinity Lutheran, I pulled photography duty this morning. And I’m fine with that because I enjoy photography. Now if I was asked to give a minute-man speech (which I’ve been asked to do) or count money or serve on a board (which I’ve been asked to do), I wouldn’t do it. My talents and interests don’t lie in those areas.

Ask me to bring my camera, however, and I will likely be there.

In the one hour I covered the Sunday School’s Valentine’s Day event, I shot some 200 photos.  But, because these images are for church use, I can only share a few generic photos with you.

 

SS Valentine's Day, 16 close-up hands making valentine

 

I can tell you, though, what I witnessed. And that was kids and parents, and, yes, even some grandparents, celebrating the gift of love. Kids made valentines, stacked candy hearts and unwrapped Hershey’s kisses with mittened hands. But the most memorable moment came when parents applied sticker dots to their children’s faces—each dot representing a quality they love about their children. I heard words like beautiful, smart, kind, my first-born…

 

SS Valentine's Day, 138 I love God because dots

 

After those professions of love, the kids stuck the dots to portraits of Jesus with the children, expressing their love for Jesus.

 

Valentine's Day Trinity SS 039 - Copy

 

I left feeling like I’d gotten the perfect Valentine’s Day gift—a reminder that I am—we are—loved.

TELL ME, what made your Valentine’s Day special/memorable?

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Planning a Valentine’s Day heart attack February 12, 2016

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WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING for Valentine’s Day?

Birthday roses from my husband, Randy.

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Roses?

You can't go wrong with chocolate, like this box from my daughter Miranda on Mother's Day.

You can’t go wrong with a box of chocolates. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Chocolates?

Some creative mind (not mine) came up with the "You've been heart attacked" idea.

Some creative mind (not mine) came up with the “You’ve been heart attacked” idea. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

How about a heart attack? No, not the medical emergency that threatens your life. But rather a staged attack that plants paper hearts in your yard.

Image three times-plus this number of hearts placed in our friends' yards.

Imagine three times-plus this number of hearts placed in our friends’ yards. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Two years ago, my husband and I crept into the front yards of two friends on the evening of February 13. There we stuck colorful paper hearts into snowbanks with the message, Happy Valentine’s Day! You’ve been heart attacked! Then we fled into the darkness of a cold Minnesota night, hoping to elude barking dogs and porch lights. We succeeded.

The two young families awoke the next morning to find dozens of hearts scattered across the snow. It didn’t take them long to determine who’d done this. And then, because they have such giving hearts, these families plucked up the hearts and heart attacked two more families.

My husband and I got as much joy out of giving this Valentine’s Day gift to families we treasure as they did out of receiving.

Piling up the hearts in anticipation of Operation Heart Attack.

Piling up the hearts in anticipation of Operation Heart Attack. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

There’s still time to plan a heart attack. Click here for details.

If you carry out a heart attack, please report back here in the comments section. I’d love to hear about your experience.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Connecting a British rock band & ice fishing in Minnesota February 11, 2016

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The rock band name on this shed leaves the unanswered question, "Why?"

The rock band name on this shed leaves the unanswered question, “Why?”

IN A SOUTHWEST FARIBAULT backyard rests a shed emblazoned with the name of an English rock band, Led Zeppelin.

This might be more than a shed. It looks like an ice fishing house. For those of you from warm weather states unfamiliar with such a shelter, here’s the deal. In the frigid cold of winter, anglers walk or drive onto frozen lakes to fish. Yes, you read that right. Drive. Once there, they hunker down in the open air or in mini houses to fish through holes drilled into the ice.

Houses can range from mass-produced collapsible fabric to homemade from plywood to massive homey shelters resembling mini cabins.

 

Led Zeppelin name on shed 61 close-up

 

I’ve only ever fished in an ice house similar to the Led Zeppelin one. That was decades ago when I was in my late twenties, newly-married and slightly interested in the sport.

But many Minnesotans take ice fishing seriously. This past weekend, thousands of anglers converged on frozen Gull Lake in northern Minnesota for the Brainerd Jaycees $150,000 Ice Fishing Extravganza, the largest ice fishing tournament in the world. The winner, a Chaska man, hooked a 5.33 pound walleye to land the grand prize of a GMC pick-up truck. Not bad for a day of fishing.

See how thoughts thread together, how the name of a rock band on a shed in Faribault can lead me to expound on ice fishing in Minnesota? Yes, winter is growing long.

Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Up on the rooftop shoveling snow February 10, 2016

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Shoveling snow off roof, 68

 

WHEN YOU LIVE IN MINNESOTA, not only do you have to shovel snow from sidewalks and driveways, but also from roofs. That is if too much snow accumulates on your rooftop and/or ice dams form.

 

Shoveling snow off roof, 67

 

Typically every winter, we face those problems, which require my husband to haul out the ladder and climb atop the south facing house and garage roofs to shovel away snow.

 

Shoveling snow off roof, 69

 

Sunday afternoon, when the air temp was at a relatively comfortable level for winter, he scooped snow from the house roof. I am always watchful of his movement, lest he slip and tumble off.

Thankfully this section of our roof is sloped only slightly, unlike the sharp-pitched section covering the rest of the structure. When he scales that two-story high area to clear leaves from gutters or to adjust the rooftop TV antenna, I’m nervous. I’ll admit that. He’s not young any more. But even youth doesn’t protect from falls. The last time our roof was shingled (due to defective shingles), I didn’t have to lobby, much to my surprise, for hiring professional roofers.

I digress.

But there are days I wish we lived in a rambler.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling