Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Sleepy Eye’s Rudolph December 29, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:45 AM
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IF I WAS A KID, I would have been genuinely super-excited to see this oversized Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer outside of Sleepy Eye on Christmas Eve afternoon.

 

I photographed Sleepy Eye's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer while traveling to southwestern Minnesota on Christmas Eve afternoon.

I would have been firing off questions after first exclaiming, “Look, Mom, Rudolph, Rudolph!

“But why isn’t he flying and where are the other reindeer? Where is Santa and where is his sleigh?”

Yes, I would have been full of questions, just like I am today.

Why is this lone Rudolph prancing in the snow along U.S. Highway 14 on the eastern edge of Sleepy Eye, right before you round the curve into town? Is this reindeer always there, or only at Christmas? Where did he come from?

OK, I suppose some smart aleck will answer, “The North Pole, of course.”

But, really, does anyone know?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Discovering the beauty of winter in Minnesota December 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:41 AM
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WHEN I LOOKED through the patio doors of my middle brother’s rural Redwood County home on Christmas morning, I saw this picture-perfect postcard scene.

 

A farm place near Lamberton on Christmas Day morning.

The quaint farm place sits along Redwood County Road 6 near Lamberton, just north of the county park I call the “gypsy park” because my paternal grandma told me gypsies once camped there.

From the park, the farm site lies only a short distance from an electrical substation which, during my growing up years, my siblings and I dubbed “the chicken pox factory.” It was a name we gave to all such substations, I suspect around the time chicken pox plagued the area. Ironically, the brother who now lives near the chicken pox factory never had the disease.

But I am getting sidetracked here. I wanted to share this photo with you for several reasons. First, this winter in Minnesota is quickly becoming long and wearisome with all of the snow we’ve gotten recently.

That’s why it’s more important than ever to search for the positive (which I have not been too good at lately) in winter. For me, that means viewing the landscape as a photo opportunity. Photography forces you to really see, not simply look at, the details in your environment.

While composing this image, I noticed the contrast of the red buildings against the pristine white snow, the defined fencelines, the old farmhouse that surely has many stories to tell, the slight rise of the land, the shelter belt of trees protecting the farm from the fierce prairie winds. With a gentle snow falling, the scene possessed a dreamy, peaceful, surreal quality.

So, yes, when you make a conscious effort, you truly will find beauty in this winter of overwhelming snow.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A practical use for icicles from snowy Minnesota December 27, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:32 AM
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I HAD THIS EPIPHANY, this brilliant moment, the other night as I watched my husband swing his scoop shovel at icicles hanging from the house roofline.

He had just descended the ladder after scooping several snowstorms worth of snow from the roof when he began knocking mega icicles from the ice-dammed eave troughs with his shovel. Clank. Clank. Clank.

For days I had admired the growing length of those icicles, the longest of which stretched to perhaps six feet. What extraordinary weapons they would make for sword fights, I thought.

But, the practical homeowner in me realized we needed to remove the weaponry to protect the fort, AKA our house.

 

Ice dams and icicles on the west side of our house.

So, Thursday afternoon I walked across the street to borrow a roof rake from my neighbor. For perhaps 45 minutes I floundered in thigh deep snow banks, pulling snow from the house and garage roofs until I felt like my arms would fall off.

I also knocked down as many of those icicles as I possibly could until I came dangerously close to also knocking out the bathroom window.

 

I nearly hit the bathroom window while removing snow and icicles from the house.

Anyway, back to that light bulb moment.

“Do we have any ice for the cooler?” I hollered to my husband as he hammered away at the icicles I had missed during my earlier reckless attempt at destroying the ice build-up. By this time, the attack with a scoop shovel method was no longer working.

He looked at me with skepticism, wondering, I’m sure, what exceptionally brilliant idea I had now. I don’t like to boast, but my idea to use icicles, in lieu of purchased, bagged ice, to cool food in a cooler rated as an environmental, cost-saving good use of natural resources. (We needed ice to keep our food cold as we traveled on Christmas Eve.)

Fortunately for me, I have a husband who doesn’t always dismiss my seemingly crazy ideas.

I dragged a cooler up from the basement, handed it outside to him and he continued hammering the ice until we had a whole cooler full of icicles.

 

My husband begins the task of harvesting icicles with a hammer.

Ice chips fly as Randy breaks the icicles into smaller chunks that will fit into the cooler.

The cooler was only half full of icicle chunks when frozen fingers led me to stop photographing the ice harvest.

Our teenage son made some comment about saving the ice until summer, putting a modern day spin on the concept of harvesting lake ice and packing it in sawdust inside an ice house.

Now, if you were to peek inside the chest freezer in my basement, you would find, um, yes, broken segments of icicles that will work perfectly for chilling beverages this summer.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Heading back home to the southwestern Minnesota prairie for Christmas December 26, 2010

We drove along U.S. Highway 14 as we traveled to southwestern Minnesota for Christmas. This stretch is between the Sanborn corners and Lamberton.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in decades, my family and I celebrated Christmas Eve with my mom and four of my five siblings, and their families, “back home” on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

It was my mom’s wish that all of us be there, attending Christmas Eve church services with her at our home church, St. John’s Lutheran in Vesta.

Our Christmas together was as wonderful and memorable and as full of laughter and love as I expected it would be.

Initially, I doubted that we would make the 2 ½-hour trip west given the steady snow that began falling early Christmas Eve, slicking the highways and creating difficult driving conditions. But by the time we left Faribault around 2:30 p.m. Friday, the snow had stopped and major highways were clear.

So, with the trunk packed full of luggage, air mattresses and sleeping bags, presents and coolers, the five of us crammed ourselves into the car (along with pillows and board games on our laps) for the journey to Redwood County. We were headed first to my brother’s house just north of Lamberton.

When we got to New Ulm, nearly 1 ½ hours into the trip, I dug my camera out of the camera bag wedged near my feet and snapped occasional photos of the prairie. It is the land I most love—the place my kids call “the middle of nowhere.”

A train travels east along U.S. Highway 14 between Essig and Sleepy Eye while we travel west.

I love this land of plowed fields and wide open spaces, of small-town grain elevators occasionally punctuating the vast skies, of cozy farm sites sheltered by barren trees.

I love, especially, the red barns accented by the fresh-fallen snow, portraying an agrarian beauty that perhaps only someone who grew up on a farm can appreciate.

As much as I have disliked all of the snow we’ve had this winter, I saw only a beautiful winter wonderland when I was back home for Christmas on the prairie.

The sun begins setting over the prairie as we head west, passing through Sleepy Eye and Springfield before reaching Lamberton. We saw only occasional glimpses of sun on a mostly gray day.

The elevators in Sleepy Eye. Small-town prairie elevators like this can be seen for miles away.

One of many picturesque barns along U.S. Highway 14.

Elevators and trains are a common site along U.S. Highway 14 in the rich farmland of southwestern Minnesota. We've nearly reached our destination when I photograph this elevator complex near sunset.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Merry CHRISTmas December 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:40 AM
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Each year I place this paper angel on our family Christmas tree. The angel is from my childhood, cut from a Sunday School lesson. I also have a Jesus in a manager from the same era and same lesson that goes on the tree.

BUT THE ANGEL said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in clothes and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

Luke 2: 10 – 14

 

Every year I display the six angels that comprise the Shiny Brite Christmas Angel Band. My oldest brother and I bought the angels for our mom for Christmas one year back in the 1960s at a hardware store in Echo. Several years ago my mom gave the tiny plastic angels to me. They are among my dearest Christmas treasures.

 

Members of the Christmas Angel Band, still in their original box.

May your Christmas be blessed with hope, with peace, with joy and with love as we celebrate the birth of the Savior.

Merry Christmas from Minnesota Prairie Roots!

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An auction at the Clear Lake Farmer’s Elevator December 23, 2010

 

I shot this image while waiting for a train by the Clear Lake Farmer's Elevator.

HEY, DO YOU ENJOY attending auctions? Ever heard of a consignment hay auction? I hadn’t either, until Saturday morning when my family drove through Clear Lake en route to St. Cloud.

We were waiting for a train to pass through town when I noticed pick-up trucks parked near the Clear Lake Farmer’s Elevator and some guys loitering next to a stack of hay. My husband quickly spied the hay auction sign to his left.

I quickly pulled out my camera because I recognized this small-town occurrence as something worth photographing, but which likely never has been photographed.

The whole scene had a Garrison Keillor quality about it, almost like we’d driven up to the Lake Wobegon Farmer’s Elevator.

It was something about the starkness and grayness of the setting, the way the men stood, the rural feel of the whole place that drew me in and kept me clicking the camera shutter.

 

A snow pile blocked my view of the hay auction until we inched forward.

On the third Saturday of each month, October - April, the Clear Lake Farmer's Elevator holds a consignment hay auction beginning at 10:30 a.m. The elevator is just off U.S. Highway 10 in Clear Lake southeast of St. Cloud.

When I saw the photos, I was pleased as punch with the results. Capturing snippets of small-town Minnesota life like this reconnects me to my rural roots and, in some small way, preserves an important part of our agricultural history.

 

Small square grass bales sold for $2.25 - $3.20 bale at Saturday's auction, according to online auction results.

Round grass mix bales sold for $39 each. "We still have people asking for straw and bags of ear corn to feed birds, etc.," the online auction info reads.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Shoveling snow boulders December 22, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:09 PM
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I’VE JUST COME in from shoveling snow. Nearly 1 ½ hours of scrape and lift and throw. Or bend and scoop and carry and throw.

I could have waited for my husband to do this after work. But he works hard all day and tonight he will have about 45 minutes to eat and shower before leaving for a church meeting. Honestly, who schedules a meeting during Christmas week?

But that is another topic for another day. Today I am focusing on the snow which the city plow scraped from the street and deposited at the end of our driveway and sidewalk. This would be boulder-sized chunks of compacted snow seasoned with salt and sand.

As I labored to clear away the mounds of snow, I grunted and sighed. My back ached. My right hip hurt from the stooping and twisting.  When I stopped occasionally to lean against the scoop shovel handle, I breathed in deeply.

Then I forged onward, determined that this snow would not get the best of me. Soon I was sweating. Even my hands. I unbuttoned by wool pea coat.

I carried more shovels full of snow boulders up the slight incline of the driveway apron. I heaved the snow chunks onto the snow along the sides of the driveway because I could no longer toss it atop the roadside mountains. Finally, I finished…then realized I also needed to open the sidewalk.

When I saw that mountain of snow before me, I nearly gave up and walked away. But, instead, I dug in, determined. Scoop, carry, throw. Scoop, carry, throw. Scoop, carry, throw.

Soon I removed my coat and tossed it atop the snow. Still sweating, I also ditched my stocking cap.

While I worked, I tried to think of some clever sign to post in the yard, for all to see along my busy street. Here are some of my ideas:

FREE SNOW

ENOUGH ALREADY

AND THIS IS ONLY THE SECOND DAY OF WINTER?

WHY WAS SNOW SO MUCH MORE FUN WHEN I WAS A KID?

GET FIT. INQUIRE HERE.

Then, when I finished, I stashed the shovels in the garage, snapped some photos of the major ice dams and icicles hanging from our house (another job for another day) and tossed down three hands full of chocolate chips. After all that shoveling, I deserved some chocolate.

#

WHAT WOULD YOU WRITE on that snow sign I contemplated posting in my yard?

How do you reward yourself after shoveling snow? With chocolate, like me?

And, finally, my apologies to my brother-in-law Neil, who just returned from Iraq. He told me I was blogging (complaining) too much about the snow. He’s in Hawaii right now. Enough said.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The snow angels of rural Minnesota

THEY ARE THE ANGELS of rural Minnesota.  The volunteer firefighters. The volunteer first responders. The volunteer ambulance crews.

If you don’t believe me, then spend some time in a place like Vesta, population around 330, on the southwestern Minnesota prairie where I grew up.  In small towns like this, the nearest clinic and hospital are often a 20-mile drive or more.

My mom still lives in my hometown and, because she’s getting up there in age, I worry about her. But that concern is offset somewhat by the knowledge that first responders will come to her aid in a medical emergency. And they have.

So when I read an article in the December 16 The Gaylord Hub, a community newspaper where I worked decades ago right out of college, I knew I had to share a story by reporter Lisa Uecker. She wrote about an ambulance trip from Gibbon to New Ulm during the December 11 blizzard.

Uecker is graciously permitting me to retell that story here. It’s worth your time to read for the lessons it teaches in dedication and care and how those in small towns will go the extra mile to assist their friends and neighbors.

In this instance, the miles, literally, were extra and a trip which should have taken perhaps 30 minutes became a 3 ½-hour ordeal.

The incident begins at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday, December 11, during the height of the two-day blizzard. The volunteer Winthrop Ambulance Service receives a call to Gibbon some eight miles to the west. Once the crew reaches Gibbon and the patient, they backtrack to Winthrop knowing they must travel the longer, but safer, state highways rather than follow the shorter route along county roads. From Winthrop, they are headed 16 miles south along Minnesota State Highway 15 to the hospital in New Ulm.

A paramedic intercept is impossible, the crew learns, so snowplows are dispatched to meet the ambulance at the intersection of Highway 15 and Nicollet County Road 1 near Lafayette. One plow goes into the ditch. Another is low on fuel. The third has mechanical problems. None of the plows make it to the appointed rendezvous site.

 

If you're unfamiliar with Sibley and Nicollet counties, here's a map photo to show you the roadways and towns highlighted in this story.

The ambulance crew is on its own, traveling in white-out conditions near Klossner. The rescue vehicle soon becomes stuck on the shoulder. Because snowplows have been pulled off the roads, the Lafayette Fire Department comes to the rescue, freeing the ambulance with its pumper truck.

After passing Klossner, the ambulance gets stuck again, but the driver–ambulance captain and assistant Sibley County attorney Donald Lannoye–is able to rock the vehicle free.

Finally, at 6 p.m., the patient, who has been stable throughout the ride, is delivered to the New Ulm Medical Center.

The four-member volunteer ambulance crew spends the night in New Ulm.

In an interview with reporter Uecker, Lannoye says that once he passed Sibley County Road 8 right outside of Lafayette, he could never drive more than five miles per hour due to poor visibility and road conditions. The crew saw 11 – 15 cars in ditches and 4 – 6 cars stuck in traffic lanes near Lafayette.

Then Lannoye also reveals that his crew began their day at 5 a.m., transporting a patient on icy roads to Hutchinson.

If ever there was an outstanding example of the care and concern residents of rural Minnesota have for each other, then this would be it. We should all be thankful for volunteers like Lannoye, ambulance crew members Lisa Klenk and Todd Storms,  EMT-in-training Katie Uecker and Lafayette Volunteer Fire Department members who braved a blizzard to help their neighbors.

They are, indeed, snow angels.

IF YOU HAVE A STORY to share about how volunteers have helped you or someone you love, submit a comment. I’m certain there are many such stories out there.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling and Lisa Uecker

 

Six reasons to buy a real Christmas tree December 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:46 AM
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My very real Christmas tree.

REAL OR FAKE? I’m talking Christmas trees here, folks.

Ever since artificial Christmas trees debuted, and I have no idea when that was, debates have ensued within families about whether the annual holiday tree should be a natural one or a fake one. (I prefer the word “fake” as that seems more accurate than the word “artificial.”)

Yes, given my word preference, you would rightly guess that I prefer a real tree.

Now I have six reasons to support my argument for choosing a natural Christmas tree over an artificial one. Those reasons are revealed in a tale that comes from my Aunt Rachel, a native Minnesotan who retired to Arkansas. I’m quite certain my aunt won’t mind my sharing of this story since she is my godmother and a preserver of family history via her memoirs.

This paragraph is lifted from her holiday letter, which arrived just days ago. She writes:

“The yearly animal story is saved for last because it is recent history. While putting up our artificial Christmas tree (stored in the basement) we were greeted by six mice. The five babies still had closed eyes and could not run, so were easy to capture. The mother tried to hide one baby in our closet, but was frightened and dropped it. Our cat, Xanadu, finally captured the mother and proudly presented it to us.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but this frightening tale of six mice is enough to rid me of any desire to ever purchase an artificial Christmas tree.

Did I mention that I really dislike, detest, abhor, can’t stand and hate mice?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Three dumb moments December 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:30 AM
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HAVE YOU EVER SAID, done or believed something that ranks as stupid/dumb/unbelievable, etc., and shortly thereafter realized your mistake/stupidity/gullibility?

Of course you have, and so have I, plenty of times.

In recent days, I’ve had too many of those moments. Can I blame it on holiday stress, lack of sleep or maybe, more truthfully, myself?

We’ll start with Sunday morning church. As the offering plate is passed down my pew, I hand it along to my husband, who typically pulls our offering envelope from his dress shirt pocket and drops it into the plate.

But he’s not doing that. He’s sitting there holding the collection plate, looking at me with one of those looks that only a spouse can give his/her spouse. We’ve been married long enough that I knew exactly what I hadn’t done.

I unzipped my purse, reached inside and grabbed what I thought was the offering envelope and nearly dropped it into the plate before realizing I was offering God $10 off on a $25 purchase at J.C. Penney.

Later Sunday, apparently still in that dumb mode and while dining with my extended family at a soup lunch I hosted, I was convinced by two brothers-in-law that another brother-in-law had scooped the beets for the borscht from the highway. That would be as in sugar beets that had fallen from an overloaded truck.

Why I believed the pair is beyond me. You would think that after nearly 30 years of knowing these two guys I would realize they are sometimes full of…, well, you know. So I asked the brother-in-law who made the beet-laced borscht (soup) if this was true. Of course it wasn’t and a dozen guests had a good laugh at my expense.

Perhaps my recent dumbest moment occurred a few days ago when I was talking with my second-born, who recently moved to Wisconsin. I asked if, when she was Christmas shopping, she could look for a Minnesota Twins long-sleeved shirt for her sister. I couldn’t find any in Faribault and did not want to run all over the area shopping for one given I detest shopping.

“Um, Mom,” she replied. “I don’t think I’m going to find a Twins shirt in Wisconsin. Maybe a Green Bay Packers shirt.”

Honestly, these stories are all true. Really, could I make up anything as stupid/dumb/unbelievable?

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED in publicly sharing any of your similar memorable moments, submit a comment. With the stress of the holidays, we could all use a few more laughs.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling