Minnesota Prairie Roots

This week's virtual Friday flower is a rose from the Lyndale Park Rose Garden near Lake Harriet in south Minneapolis. My Aunt Rae took me here when I visited her in my younger days. I returned to the garden for the first time in years this past August.

AFTER A HOLIDAY BREAK, Minnesota Prairie Roots virtual Friday flowers returns this week.

I already had two individuals selected for this honor when a third popped out at me Thursday morning from the editorial section of the  Faribault Daily News. The name should be familiar as I wrote about Tom Dominick in my December 18 Friday flowers post. Then, Tom and his wife received a monetary gift from a stranger while shopping at Walmart. It was a holiday boost the couple, who are raising their grandchildren, needed.

Let’s fast foreword now to Christmas Eve, when the Dominicks again received a generous gift from an anonymous Christmas angel. But this time, Tom decided another person needed the present more than his family. “Someone we know is dealing with multiple tragedies and sadness this holiday season; so from one heart to another, in your honor we’ve shared your love and kindness,” Tom wrote, describing how he paid it forward.

Because of his generous spirit, Tom has been selected as a recipient of January 8 Minnesota Prairie Roots virtual Friday flowers, a rose.

The second rose goes to my Aunt Rachel, who is recovering from recent knee replacement surgery in her Arkansas home. Rae has had a rough go of it and still isn’t feeling all that great.

I can relate somewhat, because I underwent total hip replacement 19 months ago. Although I didn’t face the same post-op issues as my aunt, I know that it takes time to regain strength and mobility. So, Rae, if you’re wondering whether you will ever ditch that walker, you will.

The final rose goes to my cousin Dawn from Morgan, who made this one memorable Christmas. She is the mastermind, following in her mother’s footsteps, behind a unique gift I received shortly before Christmas. Under the guise of Annie Mary Twente’s ghost (see my December 23 post), Dawn sent me a plastic toy mouse that poops candy and squeaks “Merry Christmas!” or “Merry Christmouse!,” depending on who is listening.

This little gag gift garnered more guffaws than anything as my family holed up together for several days during the Christmas snowstorm. My son even went so far as to place Chris Mouse on my chair before we sat down to supper one evening. That was nearly the end of Chris as I didn’t look before I sat and sent the screeching rodent skittering onto the dining room floor.

Thank you, Dawn, for bringing unexpected laughter to my family on Christmas. Like Tom Dominick, I may just pay the deed forward.

Chris Mouse caused quite a stir at my house this Christmas.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Minnesota Highway 30, which we drove last Friday, is closed today due to white-out conditions. When this photo was shot a week ago, snow was blowing and drifting across the highway.

TRAVELING LAST WEEK through Watonwan, Cottonwood and Redwood counties was enough to jog my memory of just how brutal winters can be on the southwestern Minnesota prairie where I grew up.

Fierce winds whip snow across open fields and across roadways, hardening into glacial-like ridges. I was thankful last Friday that snow wasn’t falling too as we were driving Minnesota Highways 60 and 30, or we would have been in trouble. You don’t want to find yourself in the middle of nowhere, in white-out conditions, in temperatures that are in the sub-zero range.

That was a week ago.

Today, a dangerous winter storm rages across the southwestern corner of Minnesota. Nearly every roadway, including the interstate, is closed and snowplows have been pulled off the roads.

Winds are pushing the feather-light snow onto highways and county roads, forming rock-hard drifts that make travel impossible. Semis and cars are stuck, stopped right there in traffic lanes, trapped in impassable snowdrifts.

This is the reality of wind and snow on the Minnesota prairie.

The southwestern Minnesota prairie, in the summer, is a place of remarkable beauty. I took this photo several years ago near Walnut Grove, the childhood home of author Laura Ingalls Wilder.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The glass on the left is correctly printed with a pied piper on the 11th day of Christmas. The other glass, however, places a piper on the 10th day instead of a leaping lord.

A drummer is accurately printed on the 12th day of Christmas glass on the left. The glass on the right incorrectly showcases a leaping lord.

YESTERDAY WOULD HAVE been the time to write a post about Epiphany, the day the wise men brought gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh to the baby Jesus. But I got sidetracked by other topics and writing book reviews for Minnesota Moments magazine, including a review of Garrison Keillor’s Life among the Lutherans.

That reminds me of Sunday morning, when I was sitting in Trinity Lutheran Church listening to the sermon, which started with something like “This is the 10^th day of Christmas, you know, 10 lords a leaping.”

Now that statement got me sidetracked right away as my mind momentarily diverted to the 12 days of Christmas glasses stashed in my kitchen cupboard and in three boxes somewhere in my home.

I’m sorry, Pastor Kinne, but I wondered at that moment what type of artwork graces the 10^th day glass in my collection. I looked this morning, expecting to see a lord a leaping. Instead, there stood a stately man blowing on a musical instrument, which I can’t identify because I don’t know my musical instruments. But this image still didn’t seem right to me.

So I further examined the 10^th day glass, did a bit of googling and discovered, horror of horrors, a mistake. The 10th glass in my collection reads: “The tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me ten pipers piping.” According to several websites and Pastor Kinne, it should be10 lords a leaping. The leaping lords are on my 12^th glass, which should have 12 drummers drumming. But a drummer graces the ninth glass, which should be nine ladies dancing. What a mixed up mess.

But back to that sermon. My thoughts then meandered to my good fortune in finding 12 days of Christmas glasses for my three kids, who were already arguing over who would get my collection some day. I never realized they cared so much about holiday glasses that I received 30-plus years ago from Al Egesdahl of Egesdahl Funeral Home and Furniture Store in Gaylord.

One holiday season, Al marched across the street to The Gaylord Hub, where I worked as a newspaper reporter and photographer, and plopped down a cardboard box crammed with those dozen 12 days of Christmas glasses. I’m not sure why Al gave me those glasses. Maybe he was just being a good neighbor. Minnesota Nice. Or maybe, now that I know the truth, he was simply trying to dump misprinted holiday glasses on an unsuspecting 22-year-old.

That doesn’t matter really as these glasses became a family treasure. Eventually, each of my kids acquired 12 days of Christmas glasses. Miranda found hers first at a garage sale. Last year I discovered a set for Amber at a Faribault antique store that was going out of business. And then, this past summer, I bought the final set for $2 at a garage sale. Guess what my son got for Christmas?

All of this I was thinking as the Lutheran pastor talked about Epiphany and how the wise men’s gifts connect to Christ’s three roles as prophet, priest and king. As a prophet, Christ foretold of his death, represented by myrrh, an embalming fluid. Frankincense tied in with Jesus’ duty as a priest, a mediator between God and us, making the ultimate sacrifice for our atonement.  And, finally, the gold, obviously, relates to his position as a king, ruler over all.

Considering the thousands of sermons I’ve listened to through the years, I’m surprised I had never heard this explanation. Or maybe, just maybe, my mind had wandered to 10 lords a leaping. Or was it 10 pipers piping?

A dancing lady is printed correctly on the drinking glass to the left for the ninth day of Christmas. The glass to the right is wrong with a drummer depicted on the ninth day.

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DID YOU KNOW THAT in Latin American cultures, kids get the bulk of their Christmas gifts on January 6, Epiphany, rather than on Christmas?

It’s true, as my daughter Miranda discovered last year while living in Argentina.

On the night of January 5, kids leave water and grass outside for the camels. The next morning the food and drink have disappeared, replaced by presents. Children believe that wise men come on camels bearing gifts for Dia de los reyes, Three Kings Day, the 12^th day of Christmas, Epiphany.

Now I like that custom, which is certainly more biblical than our Santa Claus. It keeps the focus on the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of Christ.

But I wonder. Could we possibly convince all those good Lutheran Sunday School students that camels would trek across the snow to deliver gifts? And where, exactly, would snowbound Minnesota kids find grass for the camels in January?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A sampling of the many Christmas photo cards my family received, including an annual photo of my friend Ron's dog, Bailey, decked out for the season.

COME JANUARY, I start feeling older, and not just because the calendar has flipped to a new year.

It’s all those Christmas card photos that put me in an aging funk. I mean, toddlers are now college graduates, for gosh sakes. High school friends are grandmas. My cousins’ kids are having babies.

And I’m in denial. Whenever I send holiday photos, I include only my three children, not my husband and me. Perhaps that’s not the smartest move on my part. Can you imagine the surprise when I finally decide to mail a complete family photo. “Who’s that?” my far-away acquaintances will ask as they furrow their brows and study the unfamiliar woman seated next to the familiar kids. “Is that Audrey?”

Then there’s my friend Ron, who every Christmas sends a photo of his dog, Bailey. If I saw Bailey walking down the street, I’m pretty sure I would recognize her. But Ron? I suppose I could assume that he’s the guy holding Bailey’s leash.

This holiday season brought more creative photo cards than ever to my mailbox as people turn to snapfish.com and shutterfly.com. As much as I enjoy the variety of pictures in these photo collages, some senders erred in choosing distant images of their families. When I need to pull out a magnifying glass to view friends or family with pencil-eraser-size heads, well… Maybe it’s just my aging eyes.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Hand-molded candies, crafted by my sister Lanae, her daughter, Tara, and Tara's husband, Andy.

“HOW DID YOU MAKE these?” I ask my sister Lanae as I admire the individual candies she’s included in a package of holiday treats for my family.

“I used a mold,” she answers. “And I’m not making them again.”

I am almost sorry I asked, so emphatic is Lanae in her reply.

Later, when I pilfer through the contents of the large gift bag, I understand exactly how much time and effort my sister has invested in making this assortment of delectable goodies for extended family members. Her beautifully-packaged foods and wine rival anything Martha Stewart could create.

But that’s no surprise to me. My floral designer sister has a flair for design and color and presentation. And she’s truly outdone herself this time with homemade wine, sweet relish, cut-out cookies, puppy chow, Chex party mix, caramel corn, bounce (that’s fruit-flavored vodka) and those hand-molded truffles. Lanae’s daughter, Tara, and Tara’s husband, Andy, helped with the candies and cookies.

I feel like a decadent, over-indulgent, spoiled-rotten queen when I even think about consuming these treats.

And perhaps that’s exactly as Lanae intended—that we should all feel just a little bit pampered, a little bit indulged, a little bit spoiled, but most of all, loved.

These beautifully-packaged snowflake cut-out cookies are almost too lovely to eat.

Lanae made jars of sweet relish from the bounty of summer.

Lanae and her husband, Dale, have gotten into wine-making and often share their wines with family.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Our frosty garage window, just a few days ago. I strive (struggle) to find the beauty in winter.

IT’S SO COLD in Minnesota that…

…my husband wore long johns under his dress pants to church this morning.

…coats crackle.

…car tires crunch on snowy roads.

…my mom leaves the door under her kitchen sink open so the pipes won’t freeze.

…you warm up the car for 15 minutes to drive a mile.

…houses emit occasional, boisterous cracking sounds.

…I took my jeans out of an icy closet to warm for an hour this morning before putting them on.

…our furnaces run way too much and too long, resulting in dry, itchy skin and, worse yet, higher than normal heating bills.

…ice fisherman smile because the lakes are “making ice.”

…even the hardiest Minnesotans wonder why they live here.

…we would welcome zero degrees as a heat wave.

Minnesota Prairie Roots readers, I would love to post your responses to “It’s so cold in Minnesota that…” Send me your comments.

The outdoor air temperature at my house in Faribault, Minnesota, registered minus 26.1 degrees at 7 a.m. on Sunday, January 3.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Snow drifts across Minnesota Highway 30 New Year's Day morning as we drive west toward Westbrook.

IT’S NEW YEAR’S DAY morning, and we are westbound on Minnesota Highway 30, driving past Darfur, Jeffers and Storden on our way to Westbrook on a journey that is taking longer than usual.

Earlier, icy roads altered our planned shortcut along Watonwan County Road 3. About a block down the glazed roadway, we turn around and head back to Minnesota Highway 60 that takes us further south to St. James, where I lived nearly 30 years ago.

As we drive, the wind whips snow across the four lanes of highway in this place of flat, wide open spaces. My mind flashes back to the winter of 1982, when I lived in St. James and was trying to plan my May wedding. Endless snowstorms stranded me in town on weekends and I wondered if I would ever see my fiancé in Faribault, let alone plan our wedding.

Now here I am, 27 years later, sitting beside the man who became my husband, trying to recall exactly how to get through St. James to highway 30. You would think I could remember the streets in this community, but I don’t. And I’m not exactly watching the road signs.

Instead, I am gawking at the downtown businesses. “Oh, look, they still have a Pamida,” I say. I would stop if we had time and it wasn’t so darned cold. But we don’t have time and I really don’t feel like leaving the relative warmth of the car.

Then we are in the heart of downtown. “I wonder if that movie theater’s still open.” And then I see the theater where my husband, Randy, and I saw the first Indiana Jones movie.

Randy laughs and together we remember the second floor theater with a ceiling so low that part of the movie played on the ceiling. I would stop if we had time and it wasn’t so darned cold.

Then we are driving past the park and the lake and I am pretty sure we are going the wrong direction. We are, because we have been too busy reminiscing. But it’s been fun, and soon we are turned around and headed the right way, west and north out of town to highway 30.

Snow blows and hardens in drifts across the roadway.

Now we are cruising along, bucking the drifts of snow that are edging onto our traffic lane on this endless highway. All around us, white stretches as far as we can see—acres and acres and acres of snowy fields broken only by the occasional farm place and those towns, Darfur, Jeffers and Storden.

In the passenger seat of the car, my legs are getting cold as the wind seeps through the metal and glass. Trips like this remind me just how fierce winters on the prairie can be. Just last week, a woman died in southwestern Minnesota after her vehicle became stuck in the snow and, instead of staying in her car, she tried to walk to a nearby highway for help.

As a prairie native, I am cognizant of winter weather dangers and wish we had a cell phone, although those don’t always work here, in what my kids term “the middle of nowhere.”

There is beauty in this winter landscape, especially in the evergreens iced with snow.

But we are getting closer now to our destination, my brother Doug and sister-in-law Twilia’s house in Westbrook, for a family holiday gathering postponed a week because of a winter storm.

We marvel at the many evergreen trees whose boughs weigh heavy with snow. We worry about the many pheasants foraging for food along the sides of the highway. We see the power of the wind in the rapidly-turning blades of windmills near Storden.

Clusters of windmills near Storden dwarf farm places and cast whirring shadows across highway 30.

We grumble about the cold later, when we leave my brother’s that evening and then again when we wake up at 9 a.m. Saturday morning at my Mom’s house in Vesta, 30 miles further north. The outside temperature is 25 degrees below zero.

We wonder Saturday afternoon whether our car will start. It does, after two cranks. Whew.

And then, after a weekend with family on the bone-chilling cold prairie, we are driving back east, toward Faribault, altering our route again because of icy Brown County roads.

Tonight we are home, snuggled in our house, under our wool and fleece blankets. I am writing. Randy is watching the news.

“What’s the forecast?” I ask.

“Lows in the minus 20s tonight. It might get above zero tomorrow,” he says, hopeful.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

NEARLY SIX MONTHS ago, I launched Minnesota Prairie Roots. The journey thus far has been all I expected. And more.

You, my readers, have responded with a humbling enthusiasm to the stories and photos I’ve shared. I am honored that you have embraced my posts, for blogging has truly become my passion. My readership continues to steadily grow and for that I am grateful.

Often, I am surprised at the posts which receive the most attention.

That said, I want to end 2009 by revealing the 10 most-viewed Minnesota Prairie Roots stories. Here they are, beginning with number 10:

10. “Cream cheese roll-out cookies, a Christmas tradition,” published on December 10, includes my favorite Christmas roll-out cookie recipe.

9. “Preserving the churches of Valley Grove near Nerstrand” ranks ninth among readers, but among the top in my personal favorites. I discovered these duo 1894 and 1862 churches atop a rural hillside while on an autumn drive. Much beauty lies within historic churches. I attempted to capture that in my October 9, 19 and 31 stories and photos from Valley Grove.

8. That legendary Minnesota icon, Paul Bunyan, drew many readers to my September 18 story, “Bemidji: beyond Paul Bunyan.” I published related stories on September 12 and 25 and October 10.

7. For years, I resisted attending a stream and gas engine show with my husband. But this year I decided to see what all the fuss was about by accompanying Randy to a Labor Day weekend event near Dundas. I’m glad I did. The results were some pretty interesting photos, shared in my September 17 post, “Tractors & a whole lot more at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show,” and in several other posts.

6. The Faribault Farmers’ Market also offered plenty of photo opportunities and interviews with some interesting vendors. You readers apparently found the market interesting too as my July 23 story, “Farmers’ market vendors, their stories,” ranked number six.

Chocolate covered jalapenos

5. Ah, what can I say about Dennis and his chocolate-covered jalapeno peppers? I met Dennis peddling his jalapenos at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. If you haven’t already read my July 20 post, “Chocolate covered jalapenos,” do.

Judy Ostrowski applies henna art at Depot Park in Kenyon.

4. I haven’t quite figured out why my September 2 “Henna tattoos and body art by a gypsy woman” story has drawn such readership. But I will say that the tattoo artist I discovered at the Kenyon Rose Fest certainly drew my attention. So I suppose readers would find her equally intriguing.

Rachel Scott, the inspiration for Rachel's Challenge.

3. No other topic moved me as much as a presentation I attended by Rachel’s Challenge in Faribault. Rachel Scott was the first killed in the 1999 Columbine High School shooting. I knew I had to share what I learned and the result was my highly-popular November 5 post, “Rachel’s Challenge: Start a chain reaction of kindness.”

The Los 3 Reyes Bakery in historic downtown Faribault, at the center of a controversy over the exterior paint color. The bakery has since been repainted.

2. That “A controversy over color in downtown Faribault” ranks as number two among the most-viewed Minnesota Prairie Roots pieces comes as no surprise. The issue was a hot topic locally for weeks when a contingent of downtown business owners decided they did not like the vibrant color of a Hispanic bakery. I wrote about this controversy on September 30 and again on October 6 and November 9. I am still appalled that business people in my community would “tell” the owner of Los 3 Reyes Bakery that he needed to repaint his building a subtler color. I was hoping that Mariano Perez would resist. But, alas, the bakery has been repainted and an opportunity to embrace cultural differences has been bypassed.

A view of Immanuel from the church balcony.

1. Finally, the most-viewed post: “Preserving the past at Immanuel, Courtland,” published on August 26. In this story, I wrote about the home church of my maternal ancestors. Some might argue that my relatives bumped the numbers on this piece. But I don’t think so. Whatever the reasons, the statistics clearly define this as the top post for 2009.

What will 2010 bring to Minnesota Prairie Roots? Who knows? But I promise, I will continue to write and photograph with a passion. I love Minnesota (well, maybe not our winters). So continue to look here for writing and photos of the people, places, events, things and everyday life that define this place I call home.

Happy New Year!

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

My new 2007 dictionary on the left and a 2004 paperback dictionary on the right sandwich my 1969 outdated word resource book.

“WHY DO YOU NEED a new dictionary?” he asks. “You can just go online.”

Not me, son.

I want a hefty dictionary I can grab from the shelf, hold in my hands and page through to find word definitions.

And that’s exactly what I got from my husband for Christmas—the fourth edition of Webster’s New World College Dictionary.

Just to appease my 15-year-old technologically savvy son, I emphasize that a CD-ROM dictionary and thesaurus accompany the new 1,716-page hard-cover dictionary. All of this should keep me happily in the word business for years.

For a long time, I’ve known that my Random House Dictionary of the English Language needed replacing. But not until writing this blog post did I realize just how badly I needed a new word resource book. My tattered dictionary has a 1969 copyright.

I don’t know why that surprises me. After all, I carted this dictionary off to college in the mid-1970s and then hauled it from one town to another when I worked as a newspaper reporter.

More and more lately, I’ve become frustrated with the words that aren’t listed in that four-decades-old reference book. Try finding e-mail, cell phone, internet, website, blog or blogger in a 1969 publication. You won’t.

Times have changed. And like the computer that replaced the typewriter, it’s time for me to upgrade to a current dictionary.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The early 1950s barn on the Redwood County dairy farm where I grew up has been basically abandoned.

Nature has taken its toll on the old barn as seen in the weathered wood.

“NOTHING DEFINES RURAL Minnesota more than a red barn.

Whether nestled among the rolling hills of southeastern Minnesota or anchored to the earth in the wide open spaces of the west, red barns symbolize the hope, the fortitude and the dreams of generations of Minnesotans.

For inside the walls of our barns, farm families have worked together, pitching manure, stacking bales, milking cows, building a livelihood as much as a lifestyle. Strong work ethics have been birthed here, life lessons taught.

While many red barns now stand empty, their roofs sagging, their paint peeling, they remain a symbol of all that is good about life in rural Minnesota.”

Several years ago, I wrote those paragraphs for a feature, “Color my world,” published in the fall 2005 issue of Minnesota Moments magazine. The story focused on creating crayon color names—barn red among them—that speak to the uniqueness of Minnesota.

Of the dozens and dozens of stories I’ve written for this Minnesota publication since 2004, I rank this feature as perhaps my most creative and fun.

Clearly, I love old barns.

During my childhood, I spent as much time in the barn as anywhere on my family’s Redwood County farm. I scraped manure into gutters, pushed wheelbarrows full of ground feed down the barn aisle, scooped silage, bedded straw, carried pails of milk from the barn to the milkhouse, fed calves, tossed bales of hay and straw down from the haymow…

I understand barns.

And I enthusiastically support barn preservation efforts, like those of Campbell’s Soup and Friends of Minnesota Barns. See http://HelpGrowYourSoup.com and http://friendsofminnesotabarns.org.

Campbell’s is undertaking a project to restore five barns selected through a voting process. One of the 10 finalist barns is a late 1940s or early 1950s dairy barn at The Farm on St. Mathias near Brainerd. You have until January 5 to cast your ballot for this Minnesota barn that has already been partially-restored with a new roof, dormers, cement floor and hay mow. See the above Campbell’s website to vote. (I had to laugh, though, at the error on the soup website stating that The Farm on St. Mathias is affiliated with the Crow Wine County Future Farmers of America Chapter. That should be Crow Wing.)

Friends of Minnesota Barns recently selected winners in an annual contest aimed at barn preservation. Top honors went to David and Marlyce Logan of Pipestone in the farm use category. Carl and Wanda Erickson of Hawley won in non-farm use. See the Friends website for additional information.

For those of you, who, like me, grew up on farms, there’s a certain comfort in knowing that barn preservation ranks high in importance to a major company like Campbell’s and to grassroots organizations like the Friends of Minnesota Barns.

Farm implements and fields, set against the backdrop of the prairie sky, stretch beyond an open side barn door.

Inside the barn where cows once stood and where I spent many a day feeding cows and doing other chores.

A broken window in my childhood barn reveals a patch of dandelions like those I often plucked for my mom.

The vintage baby stroller that once carried me and some of my siblings around the farmyard now sits abandoned in the barn.

The milkhouse attached to my childhood barn in Redwood County in southwestern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

(Barn photos were taken in the spring of 2009.)