Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Poetry in abandoned buildings February 22, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:42 AM
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I photographed this abandoned building along a country road near Kasota last fall.

ABANDONED FARMHOUSES and rural buildings have always held a special fascination for me.

As odd as this seems, I see poetry in these buildings that lean against the landscape, that view the world through shattered lenses.

I often wonder: Who lived or worked here? Why was this farmhouse or barn or outbuilding or schoolhouse abandoned, left to decay in the elements? I feel a certain sense of sadness knowing that once this building stood strong and proud.

But, yet, I manage to see the beauty in the bones that remain—in weathered boards muted to soft shades of gray, in crooked doors clinging to rusty hinges, in roofs that sag under the weight of time.

In my mind, I have personified this abandoned building, given it new life, through my photos and my poetic thoughts.

HOW ABOUT YOU—do you see what I see in old buildings? Share your thoughts in a comment.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on the 2008 Cottonwood bus crash February 21, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:41 AM
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THREE YEARS AGO Saturday, the small southwestern Minnesota community of Cottonwood suffered an unbelievable tragedy. They lost four of their children when a van ran a stop sign and slammed into a school bus, killing Jesse, Hunter, Reed and Emilee.

I intended to mark that February 19 anniversary date with a blog post. But I forgot. I am not proud of myself. How could I forget to honor these young lives, to remember a prairie town that mourned so deeply, to tell the families that I have not forgotten them or this horrible day?

The event touched me personally as my cousin Joyce’s grandson, 8-year-old Bryce, was riding in the front seat of that bus. He was OK, suffering only several small abrasions.

I’ve kept the emails Joyce and I exchanged after that February 19, 2008, tragedy because I never wanted to forget. And now I’ve gone and done just that.

So today, several days late, I want to remind all of you to hold your children close, to tell them how very much you love them. Treasure them. Every day.

My cousin told me back then, three years ago, about the terror she felt after learning of the crash and not knowing if her grandson was OK. Later, she would thank God for watching over Bryce as she prayed for the recovery of the injured, the families who lost their children and the community of Cottonwood.

I purchased a teddy bear, a bag of M & Ms and a book for Bryce, a voracious reader, and mailed the items to him along with a letter just days after the crash. I figured he could use a teddy bear to hug and words of encouragement.

I wrote, in part, “I hear that you were very brave, which is a tough thing to be when something so scary happens.”

I encouraged him to talk to God, his family or anyone else “when you feel scared and sad.”

Then I ended my letter: “Lots of people love you.”

Today as I reflect on the four children who died that Tuesday afternoon in February 2008 on the cold, wind-swept prairie in a tragedy that should never have happened, my heart aches for their families.

But I hope that through the grief and the pain and the healing they can hold onto the love, the love that will always be there, and the memories, the sweet, sweet memories of their precious children.

CLICK HERE TO READ a blog post I wrote on February 19, 2009, marking the one-year anniversary of the Cottonwood bus crash.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

 

A snow day in Faribault

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:07 AM
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“YOU DIDN’T BELIEVE ME. Give me a high five.”

That’s how the 17-year-old reacted at 7:07 this morning after learning that Faribault schools are closed today because of a snow day.

I wish I had been the one to deliver the good news to him, to a boy who typically lingers in bed until he risks being late for school, which he was one day recently, on a Thursday “late start” day of all days.

But this morning my son heard the “no school” news from his dad, who is currently blowing the eight or nine or 10 inches of snow from ours and our neighbor’s driveways.

Upstairs, the teen is likely back in dreamland and I’ve had a pleasant start to my morning with no snarling, no crabbing, no frowns or grumpy face.

Ah, yes, I love snow days.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Snow in Minnesota, again February 20, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:43 PM
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UP UNTIL ABOUT 45 minutes ago, snow was falling fast and furious here in Faribault, at a rate of an inch an hour.

Visibility had dwindled to a block in town. As for the country, I wouldn’t even want to guess.

But now, shortly after noon, the snow flakes aren’t as thick or as heavy and conditions have improved. Perhaps this is simply a lull in a storm predicted to drop up to 15 inches of snow here in southeastern Minnesota, more in southwestern Minnesota, “more” being 20 inches.

My area of Minnesota is currently under a winter storm warning until noon Monday.

In southwestern Minnesota, where my mom and other family members live, a blizzard warning has been issued. Snow and winds have created difficult driving conditions and low visibility on the prairie, according to information I just read on the Minnesota Department of Transportation website. I expect that snow gates, if they have not already been lowered across roads like Minnesota State Highway 19, will soon be put in place. That means you do not travel those roadways without the risk of a hefty fine. Prairie people, for the most part, understand the dangers of traveling in a blizzard and stay put.

I expect to spend my day holed up at home, wrapping up writing projects for Minnesota Moments’ spring issue. It’s a good day to do that and a good way to avoid working on income tax. I detest rounding up tax information and, this year, have put off the awful numbers task longer than normal.

On the way home from church, my husband and I stopped at the grocery store, a busy place at 10 a.m. As we entered the store, we were greeted by a shopper who just smiled and said, “Here we go again.” He was, of course, referring to the snow.

Then, a half hour later as we exited the store with our bread and other food packed into three bags, a cart-pusher, who was struggling to gather grocery carts in the snowy parking lot, declared, “Winter all over again.”

See the common word in their statements? That would be “again.”

Yup, here we go again.

I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR reports about weather conditions in your area. So submit a comment.

 

I APOLOGIZE for the lack of current photos, but I am without my Canon for a week while it is being cleaned.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Already missing my fifth eye February 19, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:33 AM
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My fifth eye, my Canon EOS 20D.

I’M NOT A CONTORTIONIST. But when I shoot photos, I manage to twist my fingers and body into abnormal bends. Sort of like Gumby.

But that’s not the point of this post.

My purpose is to tell you that I will be without my camera for a week. That makes me nervous, uneasy, tense, stressed and uncomfortable.

I’m really attached to my camera. I mean really. My Canon EOS 20D is like my fifth eye. I wear prescription lenses, so 2 natural eyes + 2 eyeglass lenses + 1 camera lens = 5 eyes.

I cannot imagine an entire week without shooting a single image. My camera is always there, sitting on the floor of my office, ready to grab for a quick interior shot or when I’m heading out the door.

But I’ve known for quite some time that I needed to get it checked. Spots have shown up in my photos, always in the same location. Sometimes they are noticeable, sometimes not, depending on the subject I am shooting.

After googling the topic and consulting with friends who are professional photographers, I verified that the likely problem is dust on the sensor. I hoped, but didn’t expect, that I could get my camera cleaned in Faribault. I can’t. And I’m too scared to buy a kit and try cleaning the sensor myself. Why risk damaging an expensive camera to save a few bucks?

So today I’ll drop my Canon off at National Camera Exchange in Burnsville and they’ll send it over to their Golden Valley store for cleaning. In a week, I can pick it up.

That’s 604,800 seconds without my fifth eye.

I hope I can see OK.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Snow peas at the farmers’ market February 18, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:45 AM
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Faribault Farmers' Market sign, photographed during the summer.

MY HUSBAND AND I HAD some fun recently at our teen’s expense.

We were talking about food samples at the grocery store and I was raving about the bread. My spouse was telling me about the fish from Vietnam and how a shopper declared he wouldn’t eat anything from that country because of the parasites. I’m guessing he was a Vietnam War veteran.

Our son caught snippets of our conversation, remaining checked out for most of the exchange as is typical of him. Apparently any words said by the parents are not worthy of his full attention.

That is why, whenever he jumps into the middle of a discussion, his statements usually make no sense.

“What, you got bread at the farmer’s market?” he interjected into our grocery store sample conversation.

Now if we were teenagers, my husband and I would have rolled our eyes. But we didn’t.

One of us responded with something like, “You think there’s a farmers’ market in winter?” Well, maybe in some communities, but not in Central Park in Faribault, Minnesota, in February, even if the temp soared to nearly 50 degrees recently.

Besides, we added, it’s not like the local vendors would have any fresh fruits and vegetables to sell.

Then my husband, who possesses a sense of humor that balances my seriousness, thought for a moment.

Of course, he said, they could sell iceberg lettuce and snow peas, and, I added, freeze pops and snow cones.

And, oh, yeah, the Dairy Queen folks could peddle Blizzards.

By that time, the teen had already begun checking out. I could see it in his rolling eyes, in the dismissive shake of his head, in the vibe that indicated he thought his parents were nuts.

We just laughed.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

February heat wave in Minnesota February 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:50 PM
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SEVENTY-FOUR DEGREES and sunny in St. Louis.

Eighty degrees and sunny in Florida.

Foggy and 40-something-degrees in Minnesota.

Thursday held the promise of another warm day in Minnesota. And by warm, I mean anything above freezing. I expected temperatures to reach near the predicted 60 degrees here in southeastern Minnesota. But I had to settle for the 40s, primarily, I think, because the fog failed to lift until late in the day.

But after this long, snowy winter, I’ll take it…because tomorrow winter returns with colder temps and snow on the way for the weekend.

For now, though, for today, patches of grass edge snow banks that are shrinking in February warmth.

Winter, spring and fall. Four seasons captured in this image I took along the edge of my driveway Thursday.

Puddles form in the low dips of the sidewalk. Mud sucks at my boots as I pick up building debris in my yard. Neighborhood children ride their bikes and zoom on their scooters.

Neighbor kids traded winter coats for sweatshirts and rode their scooters and bikes after school Thursday.

In reality, February is still winter and not the spring I await.

I need only click on my computer and open my e-mail for a reality check.

“As for spring, feel free to head our way. It’s 74 degrees and sunny here today, guaranteed to melt any snow you still have hanging around in Minnesota!” writes my editor from St. Louis, Missouri. I send the e-mail to “trash.”

Click.

I can’t escape the taunting, the flaunting. My oldest daughter sends me a text message from Florida, where she arrived last night. “…soon we will go to the beach…it is around 80.”

Click.

A vintage lawn chair on my backyard patio remains immersed in a sea of snow. The snow level has decreased considerably, though. Only the tip of this chair has been visible most of the winter.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mice in the fish bowl

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:56 AM
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PEOPLE WERE STARTING to talk. So it was time, high time, we did something about the problem.

It wasn’t like we didn’t want to solve the problem, but we couldn’t, not until this past Saturday when the Rice County Landfill was open on a weekend we were free.

We needed to clear the debris—wood siding, old windows, an old door and more—from the side of our driveway. It had been there for weeks, underneath layers of snow. Because we live in a fish bowl, aka a busy street, people know exactly what we are doing and they feel free to comment.

 

Just a portion of the demolition debris piled under the snow along our driveway.

“When are you going to get rid of that junk along your driveway?” they would remark.

We would explain that we couldn’t until the second Saturday of the month, when the landfill was open for several hours. My husband couldn’t take time off work during the week to do this job.

So this past Saturday was the day, the day we would finally tidy up our property.

Friday evening my husband and son bundled up and loaded half of the demolition debris from our home improvement project into the back of a company pick-up truck. I would have helped, except for one minor situation. Only days earlier, while shoveling snow from the driveway, I heard the tell-tale scritch-scratch of feet, mice feet, in the debris pile.

That was my conclusion, based only on the memory of mice scritch-scratching in the walls of my childhood home. At that very moment I knew I could not, would not, disturb their temporary shelter. Deeply engrained in my memory is my dad’s story of a mouse skittering up his pant leg.

 

I heard scratching from within this debris pile. My family told me I likely just heard a candy bar wrapper blowing in the wind. I told them I likely knew what I was hearing and it wasn't a candy bar wrapper blowing in the wind.

So I stayed clear, tucked safely inside the house, as the guys hoisted old windows and wood into the back of the pick-up Friday evening. They claimed they did not see a mouse, not a single one, but I was uncertain whether to believe them. Sometimes, they have learned, it is better not to tell me the truth about topics like…mice.

Saturday morning, while the teenage son slept, his dad and I rose early to haul the first truck full of debris to the landfill.

When we arrived back home and I realized I would now have to dip into that snow-covered demo stash and possibly stir up a mouse, I stepped back. Literally. My brave, brave spouse forged ahead. When no mice, not even one, appeared, I pitched in, lifting and tossing.

So to those of you who’ve wondered when we were going to clean up that junk along the end of the driveway, look, it’s gone. Gone. All gone.

And so too are the mice. I wonder where they’ve gone. Could they possibly have…? Nah. Better to not even think that, let alone write it.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Trying to sort through educational options February 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:54 AM
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I’M UNCERTAIN WHETHER I should admit this given I could be labeled as a “bad parent.” But I’ll risk criticism.

I am weary/tired/exhausted from trying to figure out every detail that goes into educating today’s child.

Can you blame me? I’ve had children in school for 20 years.

So…, given that, I felt a sense of relief last Thursday evening when my husband and I walked into Faribault High School to help our 17-year-old register for his last year of high school. I’m not sure why we had to be there, except to sign the registration paper. Our son knew, for the most part, what classes he wanted. He input the information into a media center computer without our assistance and questioned aloud why he couldn’t register online from home. I wondered too.

His Dad and I waited and pulled a few books from the library shelves. I scanned the magazine shelves—O, the Oprah Magazine; People; and periodicals about cats and dogs. I yawned, more than once. I was tired and really hadn’t wanted to venture outside on such a brutally cold winter night.

But I am the parent and this was required of me, to be here. I also had questions about AP classes, PSEO, SAT, PSAT and CLEP. Acronyms. So many. So much to consider and decide regarding my son’s education.

I’ve been pushing him to earn as many college credits as he can in high school. I know he’s capable and I also know he won’t get as much financial aid as his sisters given we have only one dependent now.

If all goes as planned, meaning he scores well on Advanced Placement tests, successfully completes several college classes and passes College Level Examination Program tests, my son should have a good semester of college behind him when he graduates from high school.

But we’re still trying to sort through the process, and it’s like panning for gold.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Harvesting ice in Waseca February 15, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:06 AM
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ACCORDING TO KLETSCHER family history, my dad and Uncle Mike harvested ice from the Redwood River in Marshall many, many decades ago.

I learned that historical tidbit last year from my Uncle Merlin, who helped me with questions for a family reunion trivia competition. My dad never spoke of this winter work, once common in Minnesota. He died in 2003, Mike in 2001, so I’ll never know anything more about their ice harvesting experience.

 

Harvesting ice on Clear Lake.

On Wednesday, February 16, anyone interested in learning about this winter activity should head over to Waseca for the 10th annual Ice Harvest from 9 a.m. – 3 p.m. at Clear Lake Park.

There visitors will participate in the traditions of ice scoring, cutting, and then storing blocks of harvested ice, in sawdust, in an ice house.

Local students will be there, too, joining in sledding, sleigh rides, snowshoeing, wood cutting and more.

The Waseca County Historical Society, FarmAmerica and AKorn Productions are hosting the event. For more information, contact the WCHS at (507) 835-7700 or go to www.historical.waseca.mn.us.

READERS, IF YOU have stories to share about harvesting ice, submit a comment. I’d like to hear more about this winter activity.

Photo courtesy of the Waseca County Historical Society