Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The value of the snow shovel January 23, 2014

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WE MINNESOTANS VALUE our snow shovels, an essential tool to clear our driveways and sidewalks of the never-ending snow.

A snow shovel at the ready at St. Luke's Church, Faribault.

A snow shovel at the ready at St. Luke’s Church.

When I recently photographed a snow shovel inside the entry to St. Luke’s Church, Faribault, I wondered how many times I’d snapped images that include shovels. So I searched my files and selected a few to show you.

My little neighbor boy shoveling the driveway in February 2013.

My neighbor boy shoveling the driveway in February 2013. We start ’em shoveling young here in Minnesota.

My neighbor across the street shovels snow Saturday morning.

Shoveling snow at the same house during a December 2010 blizzard.

My husband shovels the end of the sidewalk while our neighbor works toward him with the snowblower. What a great neighbor.

My husband shovels the end of the sidewalk while our neighbor works toward him with the snowblower following a December 2010 blizzard that dumped 1 1/2 feet of snow on Faribault. We have two snow shovels, a scoop shovel and a snowblower to handle snow removal at our house and a neighbor’s place.

Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church in Faribault is prepared with a trio of snow shovels.

Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church in Faribault is prepared with a trio of snow shovels.

My husband shovels snow from our Minnesota backyard patio a year ago.

My spouse shovels snow from our backyard patio in March 2011. Most of that snow was shoveled from the house and garage roofs earlier in the season to prevent ice dams and to reduce the weight of deep snow on the roofs.

What would we do without our snow shovels?

Tell me, if you live in a snowy region, what’s in your snow removal artillery?

Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Is it true about “no flannel” in Boston? January 22, 2014

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UNTIL MY SON PREPARED for a flight to Boston last spring to visit three colleges, I’d never heard of Tufts University.

My son in a Tufts University sweatshirt. Edited Minnesota Prairie Roots photo.

My son in a Tufts University sweatshirt. Edited Minnesota Prairie Roots photo.

He had to spell out the name for me, T-U-F-T-S.

That was my introduction to the private research university he now attends after transferring from North Dakota State University. The move to Tufts’ Medford, Massachusetts, campus was the right one for him. He’s challenged in his studies and happy living in a metro area far from the wind-whipped plains of Fargo. I don’t necessarily think he would be where he is today, though, without that year at NDSU.

But back to Tufts, which has a current student population of nearly 11,000 with 5,255 of them undergrads.

Last Thursday I was watching NBC’s Parenthood. The TV show focuses on the lives of the Braverman family, including college student Drew. Drew’s girlfriend, Amy, is currently staying with him in his Berkeley dorm room. I missed the season 4 finale in which Amy revealed she’d gotten into Tufts.

In Thursday’s episode, Amy shared that the girls at Tufts are snobby and everyone is smart and she simply cannot return there because she doesn’t fit in.

Awhile ago, I asked my son if he ever felt out of place at Tufts. I mean, this is a college where lamb is served in the dining center and there’s a sailing team. Not exactly a part of his lower middle class upbringing.

A man of few words, he said that depends on who he is with and that even then he doesn’t let his lack of family wealth bother him. Unlike Amy on Parenthood, I’ve never heard him call anyone at Tufts “snobby.”

Financial aid at Tufts is based on need, the sole reason my son can afford to attend this distinguished university. Annual attendance cost far surpasses our yearly family income. Tufts has set a goal of “ensuring that no highly qualified applicants are turned away because their need exceeds the university’s resources,” according to information on the Giving to Tufts portion of the university’s website. Our family is grateful to Tufts for embracing that philosophy of admitting students “not based on ability to pay, but on ability, pure and simple.”

That all said, when the son was home in Minnesota for holiday break, we went clothes shopping. I swear he grew an inch or more in the three months since I’d seen him.

About one thing he was adamant: “They don’t wear flannel shirts in Boston.” This from a 19-year-old who, only after entering college, began caring about attire. Not to say he dressed poorly. But fashion simply never mattered much to him.

Now he’s back at Tufts with these new clothes: four sweaters, three pairs of jeans, grey pants, and a winter scarf (in Tufts colors).

Legendary Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox in Bemidji, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots edited file photo.

Legendary Paul Bunyan (dressed in his flannel lumberjack shirt) and Babe the Blue Ox in Bemidji, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots edited file photo.

Surprisingly, though, he took his flannel back to Boston, too. He likely can wear the shirts, unnoticed, under his new sweaters.

Had he left his flannel shirts behind in Minnesota, I would have swiped them. I take no shame in dressing like Paul Bunyan.

FYI: Click here to reach Tufts’ Facebook page and the latest on the university’s mention in the Doonesbury comic strip.

Click here to reach Wikipedia’s “Tufts University in popular culture.”

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Seeking solace on a drive through rural Rice County January 21, 2014

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The rural scene unfolds before us.

The rural scene, dominated by a blue sky, unfolds before us.

BLUE SKY STRETCHES before my husband and me as we traverse back gravel roads northwest of Faribault Sunday afternoon.

A drive along country gravel roads always uplifts me, no matter the season.

A drive along country gravel roads always uplifts me, no matter the season.

I yearn for this escape, for this reconnection to the land, this attempt to rejuvenate my spirit.

This scene

This scene inspires the poet in me.

Just being in the country calms my soul, brightens my outlook, causes me to pause and appreciate this land, this place God has created and given into our care.

Memories in this scene...

Memories in this scene…

In this moment, at this time, I slip into the past, envision myself laboring in the barns we pass. Soothing thrum of the milking machine. Cocooning warmth among cows snugged in mounds of golden straw. The comfort of ‘CCO radio.

I envision these fields seeded in corn or soybeans.

I envision these fields seeded in corn or soybeans.

In farm fields, I see a much younger and skinnier version of myself plodding between rows of soybeans to yank cockleburs on a scorching summer day.

The comfort of memories in a farm yard.

The comfort of memories in a farm yard.

At the sight of a farmyard, I hear my buckle overshoes crunch upon hard-packed snow as I follow the path from house to barn.

I imagine this field seeded in corn or soybeans.

An ocean of snow-washed land.

Memories unleash in this landscape, in the view of farmyards anchored into hillsides within an ocean of snow-washed fields.

A remnant of yesteryear in an old corn crib.

A remnant of yesteryear in an old corn crib.

I am happy here. Content. At peace.

Splashes of red jolt the blue and white landscape.

Splashes of red jolt the blue and white landscape.

Yes, even in this winter of too much cold and too many snowy days, I find solace in blue skies and sunshine, barns and white-washed fields.

The punctuation of a red wagon and its shadow stretching across the snow draw my attention.

The punctuation of a red wagon and its shadow stretching across the snow draw my attention.

FYI: To read my previous post featuring photos from this Sunday afternoon drive, click here.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What Minnesotans do on a balmy winter day January 20, 2014

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SUNDAY BROUGHT A WELCOME change in weather with an abundance of sunshine and temps reaching nearly 40 degrees Fahrenheit here in southeastern Minnesota.

It was a glorious day.

Following a country road Sunday afternoon somewhere northwest of Faribault.

Following a country road Sunday afternoon somewhere northwest of Faribault.

So after my husband had finished repairing a friend’s dad’s snowblower, we set out on a Sunday afternoon drive along back country roads northwest of Faribault. Oh, how I love a drive in the country, camera in hand, shooting scenes from the passenger side of the car.

And, yes, prior to departure I cleaned the salt-grimed car windows, a futile effort as the windshield was soon spotted with road spray. Temps weren’t quite warm enough to roll down the front passenger side window to take photos. No, we can’t always stop for photo ops or we would never get anywhere.

Anywhere was our destination. We both are suffering from cabin fever, the trapped feeling that afflicts Minnesotans when the winter gets too cold and too snowy for too long. Such is this winter. Today, after a one-day reprieve, we are sliding back into the deep freeze.

But we had yesterday, a gloriously warm and sunny Sunday. For that I am grateful.

Sunday proved a perfect day for this family to ride their horses.

Sunday proved a perfect day for this family to ride their horses.

These Minnesotans preferred driving their snowmobiles in the ditch along a Rice County Road.

These Minnesotans snowmobiled in the ditch along a Rice County Road.

A few miles further north, other snowmobilers

A few miles further north, other snowmobilers parked next to the old school in Millersburg and walked across the street to Boonie’s Bar & Grill.

While some played, others worked. This guy prepares to saw wood along a rural roadway.

While some played, others worked. This guy prepares to saw wood along a rural roadway.

Back in Faribault, another man cut wood.

Back in Faribault, another man cut wood.

And we ended our drive with a walk along the snowy trails at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault.

And we ended our drive with a walk along the snowy trails at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault.

Fresh tracks showed us that others snowshoed and skied through the nature center.

Fresh tracks showed us that others snowshoed and skied through the nature center.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Benson Family Singers: “To you, O Lord, I will make music” January 19, 2014

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Benson Family Singers Rachelle, left,

The Benson Family Singers Rachelle, left, Aaron, Pete and David. Luke is also a member of the group, but did not perform in this song.

MIXING HUMOR AND SERIOUSNESS with music ranging from foot-stomping bluegrass to gospel, barbershop style and even rap, The Benson Family Singers of Faribault presented a wholesome family concert Saturday evening that has me singing their praises.

Posted on the bulletin board inside the church entry.

Posted on the bulletin board inside the church entry.

This family—Pete and Rachelle and sons David, 13; Aaron, 11; and Luke, 9—performed at St. Luke’s Church, Faribault, to raise awareness and funds for the Pregnancy Options LifeCare Center. Paul, 2, has yet to make his stage debut.

But if he’s anything like his brothers and parents, his musical talents, enthusiasm and confidence will shine during shows at churches, festivals and elsewhere.

The family will perform at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, February 1, at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault, in what is billed as “the perfect family entertainment experience.” That it should be.

In today’s world, it’s truly refreshing to listen to musicians like the Bensons. You needn’t worry that they’ll say or sing anything remotely offensive. They are genuine, Christ-loving and family-focused with their music as their family ministry.

Their purpose, says Pete, is “preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ wherever we go. It’s the most important thing we can do in this life.”

So, in a break between songs, this father of four sons shared his faith with the audience at St. Luke’s.

The family balances its serious message with humor as Luke role-played Lars and Pete his counterpart, Ole, in several Norwegian jokes. Not too worry. All of their jokes are kid-friendly funny.

A rapt audience at St. Luke's.

A rapt audience at St. Luke’s.

The Bensons definitely reach out to kids with Sunday School songs like “This Little Light of Mine” and other selections that have young and old alike clapping in time to the music. Think a bluegrass tune from The Andy Griffith Show.

Listening to their barbershop style a cappella singing is an absolute auditory pleasure.

I especially enjoyed the old familiar hymns such as “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder” and “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”

The Benson "boys" presented a rap version of "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms."

The Benson “boys” present a rap version of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.”

But, by far, the hit of the evening for me, and I expect many in the audience, were the family’s numerous versions of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.” The family pulled out barbershop hats, sunglasses and other props to sing “Leaning” in styles from Johann Sebastian Bach to barbershop to doo-wop, Beach Boys, “clean rap” and music from the hills of Tennessee or Kentucky.

It felt good to laugh.

And it felt good, in the closing song, to join this talented family in singing the chorus of “There Is Power in the Blood.”

FYI: To learn more about the Benson Family Singers, click here. To learn more about their upcoming performance at the Paradise Center for the Arts, click here.

Information about the Pregnancy Options LifeCare Center was available at the concert.

Information about the Pregnancy Options LifeCare Center was available at the concert.

For info about the Pregnancy Options LifeCare Center, a pro-life organization dedicated to providing physical, emotional, social support and assistance to women by empowering them to make healthy, life-affirming choices, click here.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

You’ve just won… January 17, 2014

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“CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED to receive a free cruise to the Bahamas!”

Not the Bahamas, but a beach none-the-less. Minnesota Prairie Roots edited file photo.

Not the Bahamas, but a beach none-the-less. Minnesota Prairie Roots edited file photo.

For a minute, I want to believe it, that I’ve won a trip that will take me far from the bitter cold and snow of Minnesota to the sunshine and warmth of the Bahamas. Not that I would go anyway, given my issues with flying.

But still, who doesn’t like to win something? My husband actually won a trip to the Bahamas in 2003. A legitimate trip from a local radio station.

This most recent phone call, though, alerting me to the free cruise, raised an immediate red flag. For one, an automated voice would not relay such good news. Secondly, I did not register nor qualify for a cruise give-away.

So I hung up.

But would everyone?

I think not.

You’ve all gotten those calls, I’m sure, scaring you in to thinking you need a product or warning you about something related to your credit card. Or what about those high pressure telemarketers tugging at your compassionate side, asking you to donate to some worthy cause?

I hang up.

But would everyone?

I think not.

In this crazy mixed up world, it is sometimes difficult to separate truth from untruth, honesty from dishonesty, fact from fiction.

I want to see the best in everyone, I truly do. I want to believe that the person on the other end of the line really is asking me to donate to an authentic charity. Common sense tells me otherwise, that I am likely to be taken by a scam if I get sucked in.

I want to believe that all of the comments to this blog are simply readers who wish to share their thoughts. My spam filter, with 200,460 blocked comments, tells me otherwise.

Then there are the convincing emails, which appear from legitimate sources, but aren’t. It’s tempting to click on the link, but I don’t.

To filter through all of this, I trust my gut, my intuition that something is not quite right. When red flags pop up, I see them.

That line from Alice in Wonderland comes to mind: Welcome to Wonderland, where everything is not as it seems.

So…if you get a call about a free cruise to the Bahamas, be forewarned…

DEAR READERS, have you ever believed something to be legitimate/true and it turns out it wasn’t? What warning signs alert you that something isn’t quite right?

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

One sweet antique shop in Mankato, on the way to Hiniker (not Golden) Pond January 16, 2014

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Love these letters showcased at Pond Road Antiques.

Love these letters showcased at Pond Road Antiques.

I DON’T RECALL exactly when I began to appreciate antique stores. It certainly was not in my 20s or 30s, nor probably even in my early 40s.

But now, closer to age 60 than to 50, I’ve developed a fondness for these shops that hold memories of my past. Nostalgia sells.

Not all antiques shops are created equal, though. Too much old stuff stuffed inside a dark, cramped and musty building overwhelms me. Artfully arranged merchandise in sufficient light draws me for a closer look.

Inside Pond Road Antiques.

Inside Pond Road Antiques.

Pond Road Antiques, just off Highway 169 at 111 Butterworth Street in Mankato, ranks as one of the most visually appealing antique shops I’ve shopped. While the exterior, a fancied-up new pole shed style building, doesn’t fit the merchandise inside, don’t judge a book by its cover. Inside you will find 38 dealers showcasing their wares in a visually pleasing way. Think designer display.

Here are a few photos of the merchandise (I failed to photograph the exterior) shot this past summer after a stop at nearby Hiniker Pond Park, where my poem, “The Thrill of Vertical,” is currently posted as part of the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride. (Click here to learn about that poetry project.)

"The Thrill of Vertical," located next to Hiniker Pond.

My poem, “The Thrill of Vertical,” located next to Hiniker Pond.

I’d suggest a jaunt to Mankato to check out that poetry, scattered throughout Mankato and North Mankato, and to peruse the appropriately-named Pond Road Antiques.

My husband, Randy, and I were thrilled to find this vintage straw cowboy hate. We reminisced for awhile about watching Westerns on TV and getting new cowboy hats each summer.

My husband, Randy, and I were thrilled to find this vintage straw cowboy hat. We reminisced for awhile about watching Westerns on TV and getting new cowboy hats each summer while growing up.

With a soon-to-be son-in-law with the last name of Schmidt, I find myself drawn to Schmidt beer collectibles.

With my eldest now married to a Schmidt, I find myself drawn to Schmidt beer stuff.

I nearly flipped when I saw this toy accordion, just like one I had as a child. I loved my accordion and it is the only musical instrument I've ever played.

I nearly flipped when I saw this toy accordion, just like one I had as a child. I loved my accordion. It is the only musical instrument I ever had the opportunity to play. I should have bought this although, if I recall correctly, the price was higher than I wanted to pay. But how I would love that toy accordion…

Unusual for sure and, well, I've always thought grasshoppers were interesting insects to watch.

Unusual for sure and, well, I’ve always thought grasshoppers are interesting insects to watch. Grasshoppers were everywhere on my native prairie when I was growing up. I love how items like this are being repurposed as art.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE antique shop?

FYI: Pond Road Antiques is open from 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. Monday – Saturday and from noon – 5 p.m. Sundays.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Family love knows no distance January 15, 2014

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File photo, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

File photo, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. The son flies Southwest, not Delta.

TUESDAY, 6:39 a.m. and I’ve just arrived home from the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport after a slow drive there on treacherous, snow-packed roads with my husband and son. The 19-year-old is on his way to Boston, back to college.

Wednesday, 6:00 a.m. and he is in Medford, Massachusetts, now, settled into his dorm, about to start his second semester at Tuft’s University.

And I am a sad mama. I go through this every time my son or my daughter, who lives 300 miles away in northeastern Wisconsin, leaves. I cannot help it. I love having my “kids,” who are not at all “kids” anymore, home. Given the distance two of them live from Minnesota, I don’t see them as often as I would like.

The son, left, the eldest, the son-in-law and the second eldest daughter.

The son, left, the eldest and her husband, and the second eldest daughter after I snapped “posed” photos when we were last together. I actually prefer this image to the perfectly posed shots given the love and affection it reveals.

We—the husband, the eldest daughter and her husband (who live in the metro), the middle daughter and the son—were all together the Friday evening before Christmas to celebrate the holidays. For that I am grateful. I treasure these times we have as a family. Many families are spread far and wide across this country and world and see each other less often than we do each other.

But when my son left this time, it was different. He’s accepted a summer internship in Boston. I don’t know when he will return to Minnesota. Over spring break? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on his plans and the cost of a flight.

That is the reality of mothering—this separation.

Yet, distance and separation do not limit love. And for that I am grateful.

HOW DO YOU COPE with long distance separation from family? And how do you stay connected?

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Pick the Bic from the pocket, please January 14, 2014

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NOW WE ALL KNOW that merchandise is returned to stores every day and restocked on shelves, right?

But how thoroughly are those returns checked, if at all?

Recently my husband shopped at the Target in Northfield and bought two pairs of jeans for our college-aged son, currently home from Boston on holiday break. These were purchased with cash as we have canceled our Target REDcard. We are choosing to be proactive rather than follow Target’s advice to “monitor our account” for possible fraudulent activity.

That said, we are always please to find jeans that fit our long-legged and slender 19-year-old.

Surprise. These jeans purchased at Target came with a Bic lighter stashed inside a front pocket and repositioned in this staged photo.

Surprise. These jeans purchased at Target came with a Bic lighter stashed inside a front pocket and repositioned in this staged photo.

I wasn’t pleased, though, when I discovered a Bic lighter buried in a front pocket of one pair of jeans as I removed labels to launder the pants.

Bonus two: A receipt to Walgreens tucked into the other pocket. This receipt was visible.

Bonus two: A receipt to Walgreens tucked into the other pocket. This receipt was visible.

A receipt to the Northfield Walgreens store was tucked inside the opposite pocket.

I assumed the jeans were not worn as all labels were attached and the pants appeared in new condition. So I tossed them in the wash.

Jeans purchased at Target with a receipt in one pocket and a Bic lighter in the other.

Jeans purchased at Target with a receipt in one pocket and a Bic lighter in the other.

It’s a good thing I always check pockets before doing the laundry. I wish Target would do the same before restocking merchandise.

But I suppose they have more important things to worry about than Bics in pockets.

HAVE YOU EVER FOUND anything unexpected in the pockets (or elsewhere) of just-purchased merchandise or discovered the merchandise had been used? Let’s hear.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What’s the story behind this license plate? January 13, 2014

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Cat nap license plate

THE THING ABOUT PERSONALIZED license plates is this: I always wonder about the story behind the choice.

Is the owner of this Lincoln MKX, recently photographed along Minnesota State Highway 3 in Northfield, a cat owner? Or simply a lover of cat naps? Or?

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling