Minnesota Prairie Roots

A COLLEGE TOWN. A river town. A town once destined to become Minnesota’s state capital, except for a stolen legislative bill and a judge’s ruling. A town where Jesse James and his gang rode through en route to robbing the First National Bank of Northfield. A town two-thirds destroyed by a March 29, 1998, tornado. The town is St. Peter, population around 12,000, nestled in the Minnesota River Valley.

Recently I spent a bit of time in St. Peter while on a fall color drive. Randy and I picnicked at Riverside Park—Mill Pond & Campground. I watched volunteers prepare for a haunted hayride along the park’s trails, nearly twisted my ankle in an unfilled hole in the grass, noted how murky the Minnesota River appeared, observed an eagle soaring, and noticed the roof of the small picnic shelter. It looked like the top of an old grain bin, much to my rural roots delight.

Following lunch, we stopped briefly downtown when I spotted a thrift store. I always enjoy poking around second-hand shops. Not that I’m looking for anything in particular. Often I leave empty-handed. But this time I picked up a clutch of greeting cards because I’m one of those people who still sends cards on birthdays and other occasions. Randy found a cassette tape of some radio talk show, nothing that interests me.

We’d parked along busy Minnesota Avenue/US Highway 169 directly in front of the Arts Center of Saint Peter. So, of course, I had to check out the gallery exhibit—collage art by Mankato artist Holly Dodge. The exhibit has since closed. I meandered, photographing some of her pieces. I’m always impressed by the diversity of art, how creative minds work.

Once outside, I aimed my camera lens toward the distinctive bronze sculpture, “Mobius Strip,” crafted by Paul Granlund, a noted Minnesota sculptor, 1952 graduate of Gustavus Adolphus College (across town and up the hill), sculptor-in-residence there from 1971-1996, and much more in an illustrious career. Granlund’s sculpture is an eye-catching identifier of the arts center. Only after I returned home did I learn about the artist and about the many Granlund sculptures gracing the Gustavus campus. A return trip just to see those is now on my must-do list. I also found heron and eagle sculptures tucked into a pocket park in this block of downtown.

I discovered, too, Poshinate Kiddos, a beautiful baby and kids gift boutique where I looked, but didn’t buy (not this trip). I loved the merchandise and the friendly, helpful shopkeeper.

Historic buildings lining Minnesota Avenue drew my interest. About a dozen are on the National Register of Historic Places. Rather than cross the wide, wide street where traffic whizzes by at speeds that make me uncomfortable, I zoomed and photographed. I appreciate historic architecture and when a community cares enough to save it.

Within the single block I walked, I also noticed signage on the Embassy Bar, or Blaschko’s Embassy Bar & Grill, depending on which sign you view. Signs always draws my interest, not only as identifiers but also as works of art.

Retracing my steps from River Rock Coffee & Tea, a busy place at the end of the block, I paused at the arts center again. On the second floor I spotted a singular word—writing—spanning a wide window. Now, when you’re a writer like me, you get excited about a word that celebrates your craft. That left a lasting impression on me as we pulled out of St. Peter intent on seeing what we’d come to see, the colorful trees along Highway 169 heading north toward Le Sueur. But the trees weren’t colorful. Not at all. Could have been the timing or the day, which was extremely windy with hazy skies.

Although disappointed, I was not disappointed in the river town, the college town, the historical town of St. Peter. I need to return, devote an entire day to exploring a place that once could have been Minnesota’s state capital…if not for the theft of a legislative bill in 1857 by politician Joseph Rolette and the judicial ruling that followed.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling