Minnesota Prairie Roots

MY NEIGHBOR MUST HAVE too much time on his hands. As I look out my office window, I see Bob swiping snow from his overgrown shrubs with one of those snow-removal roof rakes.

And now I see a guy jogging along the side of the road.

I want to run outside and shout, “Hey, you, if you have so much energy, come and shovel us out!”

But I don’t. I continue to type and await my husband’s return from work to snow-blow us out of this pre-Christmas mess. I’m uncertain how much snow fell on Faribault yesterday, but, with the foot of white stuff we got two weeks ago, it’s more than we’ve had in years. This truly is a winter wonderland.

Right now, all is calm. No snow falling. No anything that would indicate we are in for more of this. Traffic buzzes along the main arterial street that passes by our house. The snowplow just opened a second lane on our side street.

My daughters’ cars are parked in the driveway like humpback whales stranded on the beach, unable to move.

But I am content. My kids are all home. We don’t have to travel tomorrow because the family gathering in southwestern Minnesota has been postponed a week.

Stay safe if you need to be out and about anywhere in Minnesota today.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

WHEN MY FAMILY received this Christmas card, I knew I had to share it with you, my Minnesota Prairie Roots readers.

This is not just any card. My 5-year-old niece, Elisabeth, or Beth as we call her, created this image.

The simplicity of the card impresses me as does Beth’s ability, at her young age, to produce such a fine piece of art.

Turns out Beth made this nativity scene during a bi-weekly art class at the Lillian and Coleman Taube Museum of Art in Minot, N.D. My niece lived at the nearby Minot Air Force base before moving recently with her family to West Virginia. In designing her artwork, Beth tore and glued fabric scraps to a pre-cut form and then added rickrack, yarn, beads and such that had been donated to the museum for re-use.

Beth’s mom, Rena, said her daughter could have used buttons, silk flowers, sequins, and many more items, but chose to be frugal. That seems fitting for the subject, Christ’s birth in a stable.

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2: 6 – 7

May you, like Beth, celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, found in the birth of the Savior in a Bethlehem barn.

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(The Taube Museum scans artwork and creates cards on cardstock, then sells 10 cards for $20. Proceeds benefit the museum. See www.taubemuseum.org.)

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

ALREADY, SOUTH DAKOTA Governor Mike Rounds has declared a state of emergency as the Midwest prepares for a major winter snowstorm.

This predicted storm is impacting all of us. Earlier this week I e-mailed my daughter who lives in La Crosse, Wisconsin, and advised her to travel home to Faribault on Tuesday rather than Wednesday. She listened.

I also e-mailed my daughter who lives in south Minneapolis and suggested she drive home after work Wednesday rather than waiting until Thursday. She’s listening too.

We’re all preparing for a storm that is expected to dump up to a foot or more of heavy, wet snow on Minnesota. That, combined with strong winds, will make travel treacherous, if not impossible.

In southwestern Minnesota, where my family was slated to journey on Christmas Day for the Kletscher holiday gathering, I bet authorities will swing snow gates across highways. In that part of the state, winds can whip even an inch of snow into a blizzard or white-out conditions. I grew up there, on the wide open prairie, and I understand the dangers.

As anticipated, I received an e-mail this morning from my oldest brother and his wife, who live in Westbrook and are hosting this year’s gathering: “Just wanted to connect with everyone to see what your thoughts are about rescheduling Kletscher Christmas. The way the weather sounds it doesn’t sound like anyone will be going anyplace…”

Probably not.

This isn’t the first time we’ve had to reschedule the Kletscher Christmas due to snowy weather. And two years ago, we drove 40 mph all the way from Vesta to Mankato on slippery, snow-covered roads during a Christmas Day snowfall. Thankfully the final 40-mile stretch to Faribault was better.

As much as I would like to spend Christmas with my extended family, I value more the safety of those I love. Besides I will be with my family—my husband and our three children. That is truly a gift in itself, especially since last year, my daughter, Miranda, was in Argentina for Christmas.

Wherever you are this holiday season, be safe and cherish the time spent with loved ones.

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ORGANIZERS OF THE CHRISTMAS EVE service at historic Valley Grove Church near Nerstrand have wisely canceled that event. In an e-mail I just received, Gary Wagenbach of the Valley Grove Preservation Society writes: “Ken Sahlin and I have reviewed weather and other relevant details and decided on cancellation of our planned, and nicely prepared, Christmas Eve service. Forecasts call for sleet, snow (lots), and the person who plows the church drive doesn’t want the responsibility under the expected conditions.”

I anticipate many more churches will cancel Christmas Eve and/or Day services. So keep your radio tuned for the latest in cancellations and postponements.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

WHAT WOULD YOU DO if you received a priority mail package from the ghost of a girl buried alive in 1886? Would you open the box? Or would you toss it in the garbage?

I faced that dilemma on Tuesday when an unexpected package arrived with a return address of “A. Mary from Hanska.”

Instantly, I felt the hairs on my arm rise and not just because of the cold. You see, ever since I heard the true story of 6-year-old Annie Mary Twente, who fell into a coma and was buried alive near Hanska, I’ve been, might I say, taunted by A. M.

Usually, Annie sends only Halloween greetings. But this year she apparently felt I also needed a Christmas gift. Now typically, I like getting packages in the mail because, well, I seldom get them. But this was a bit different, coming from A. Mary.

So I turned to my cousin Dawn for advice. I explained my situation in an e-mail and she advised me to open the package, assuring me that Annie Mary wouldn’t send me anything mean (like the mouse head my husband mailed to his sister nearly 30 years ago. True story, I swear.) But Dawn suggested that the gift could possibly contain Annie’s bones.

Now that was an unsettling thought.

So I proceeded with more than a bit of caution. First, I opened the cardboard box, revealing a wrapped gift and a homemade card wishing me a “Mousy Christmas!” Annie had apparently learned how much I dislike, OK hate, mice.

Then inside, in her childish handwriting, she printed:

Now I was really nervous. I didn’t want to open a box that rattled and that even remotely suggested a mouse-related gift.

With horrible possibilities looming at the forefront of my brain, I tentatively unwrapped the present to discover chocolate candy kisses (at least one thing I like), a Christmas book about mice, a bat and a plastic mouse that poops red and green candies and quite tauntingly wishes me a “Merry Christmas! Guess who?”

Yeah, guess who. I’m guessing my not-so-innocent cousin Dawn and her mom, my Aunt Marilyn (AKA “A.M.”), are behind this whole Annie Mary charade. Upon closer inspection, I discovered a Morgan, Minnesota, postmark on the box. Surprise. Dawn and her family live in Morgan.

So, I decided to accuse my cousin and elicit a confession.

She responded: “Sure, I can confess if that is what you want, but then would you know for sure that I am telling the truth and not just confessing just to confess?!?  A Morgan postmark?  Well, I guess if Norman Bates was in Minnesota, then maybe Annie Mary was in Morgan?  Ever think of that?”

She was referring to Norman Bates of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. Bates recently sent Dawn a letter, to which I later confessed authorship. (See my December 15 post, “My cousin receives a chilling letter from Norman Bates.”)

Then Dawn added this warning: “I would continue to watch your mailbox, A.M. may continue to keep in contact with you now.”

Uh, huh. And Norman Bates knows your address too, Dawn.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Historic Shumway Hall on the Shattuck campus, decorated for the annual Christmas Walk.

RAILINGS, WINDOWS, DOORS, festooned in greenery and in red bows, are all dressed in the finery of Christmas in this place of stone and of wood. This is Shattuck-St. Mary’s School in Faribault.

Today I bring you this third, and final, photographic holiday post about a place that I find truly remarkable and inspiring for its architectural beauty, deep-rooted history and academic, artistic and athletic excellence.

Thank you to Shattuck-St. Mary’s for opening its doors to the community during the 7^th annual Campus Christmas Walk and “Sounds of the Season” ice show in early December. I attended both and, as you will see, left with a camera full of images and a heart full of Christmas.

Christmas trees and wreaths set a festive mood on the Shattuck campus on Faribault's east side.

Faribault artist Jim Pichner sold his stained glass artwork during the Christmas Walk holiday market.

Stair railings and banisters, worn by hands and years, are dressed up for the holiday season at Shattuck.

An angel in a windowsill inspires on a stairway landing.

A wreath on Shumway Hall.

Skating to "Frosty the Snow Man," this group of young skaters draws loud applause from the crowd at Shattuck's ice show.

Students from Shattuck-St. Mary's figure skating program wow the crowd during the "Sounds of the Season" free ice show on December 12.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Garden art, created by my neighbor Cheri from recycled vases, plates and more, provides a bright spot in the snowscape of my backyard.

TODAY MARKS THE SHORTEST day of the year, the winter solstice. Here in southeastern Minnesota, the recent foot of snow makes this seem like an already long winter. And it’s not even January.

Predictions for a major winter snowstorm later this week already have me worrying about travel. Will my daughters get home for Christmas? Will weather delay extended family gatherings that we must attend hours away?

Since there’s not much I can do about the weather, I must accept the cold and snow. Or, as in the case of St. Paul poet Todd Boss, embrace it. For the third winter, Boss is publishing an online winter poetry journal appropriately named Flurry.

Up until several weeks ago, when I discovered Yellowrocket, a book of poetry on the “new books” shelves at Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault, I had never heard of Boss. He authored this volume of down-to-earth poems that quickly won me over as a Boss fan. I’ve read and reviewed that collection, with that review awaiting publication.

But back to Flurry. In November, I e-mailed Boss about Yellowrocket, but mostly about his online poetry journal.

“Flurry is gaining momentum as a regional magazine (Minnesota and the Dakotas) whose focus is limited and the publication period of which is narrow. I kinda love how specialized it is. Poems about snow, basically is what we’re talking about,” he writes.

Yup, from December 21 until the March 20, 2010, spring equinox, you can immerse yourself in poems that focus on winter. This year, Boss has expanded Flurry’s geographical area to include his native Wisconsin. He solicits most of the material, but also reads submissions.

I’m no poetry expert, so I won’t pretend to understand every poem I read. But when I read a poem I like, I know it. That’s really the beauty of poetry. Poems elicit different responses depending on our emotions, experiences and even our geographical location. Boss understands that.

Right about now, I figure a whole lot of people, from the snow-covered Midwest to the snow-socked East Coast, can relate to the types of poems you’ll find on Flurry. Poems like Raul Sanchez’ Wild Dame that is kicking off the third season of Flurry; the two-line Sun Dogs by Denise K. Lajimodiere or The Soft Fate by Madelon Sprengnether in volume two; or Jill Breckenridge’s Winter Blessing and Deborah Keenan’s Something New About Winter in volume one.

Decide for yourself and check out Flurry at http://www.toddbosspoet.com/Flurry*/Flurry*.html.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

My daughter's Santa Mouse book, the one I read to her so many times that I had the words memorized.

“SO THAT’S WHY we haven’t caught the mouse,” he says. “The mouse was in the drawer.”

I am not laughing. Not at all. I do not laugh about mice.

But they—the two guys in my life—find this incredibly humorous.

First, a little background: I am afraid of mice. Because of that, I will not venture into our basement after dark. I am no dummy. I know that mice tend to scurry about in darkness.

I am not taking any chances. So one evening this past week, I ask my husband, Randy, “Can you go in the basement and get a book for me? It’s in the bottom dresser drawer.”

He looks at me, obviously thinking, “You have two legs. Get it yourself.”

But I am stubborn when it comes to rodents. I have had too many unsavory encounters with these skittering varmints to risk another.

And besides, I really want this book, Santa Mouse, which was a gift from my Aunt Dorothy to my oldest daughter more than 20 years ago.

My husband reluctantly obliges my request. Upon his return, Randy concludes that a mouse, which has twice snapped traps in our basement laundry room, must have been hiding in the dresser, in the book, the entire time.

“Ha, ha, ha,” my guys chortle. I scowl at Randy and my teenage son. They laugh some more. Loud guy laughter.

I am not going to give them the satisfaction of even the slightest hint of laughter escaping my lips. I must not show any signs of weakness regarding my stance on mice. If I laugh now, my husband will have me checking mouse traps next. And that would be worse than entering a dark basement.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Our $50 Frazier fir Christmas tree purchased for $27 awaits decorating a week before Christmas.

‘Tis the week before Christmas and we finally have a tree,

The one we bought Thursday night for a really low fee.

I thought it quite fresh when we pulled it inside,

But the carpet is already littered with needles that are dried.

The branches are thawing and bending low,

No longer like rigid soldiers all lined in a row.

It’s a beautiful tree, this Frazier fir that we got,

Unlike the budget pine tree that we have typically bought

But when you wait until the last minute like we did this year,

You’ll get a bargain price that brings lots of good cheer.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

I photographed these bleeding hearts in my garden this past spring.

MINNESOTA PRAIRIE ROOTS continues to focus on the spirit of Christmas in handing out this week’s virtual Friday flowers.

Everywhere you turn, opportunities abound to give to others during this holiday season. And I hope you are doing just that, whether through a food shelf or blood donation, a secret angel gift, a card sent, a smile given. Your selfless giving from the heart will affect others in ways you will never know.

Take the stranger who gave a Christmas card and money to a couple shopping for groceries at Faribault’s Walmart on Sunday. The man disappeared before Tom Dominick and his wife could thank him, so Tom wrote a letter to the editor of the Faribault Daily News expressing his gratitude.

“You sir (a total stranger), could not have known the issues of hard times we’ve endured, nor can you know how much you touched us and restored our faith in mankind,” Tom said in part.

You see, Tom and his wife are raising their grandchildren and it isn’t always easy.

The stranger included this inspiring message: “Christmas began in the heart of God, it is complete only when it reaches the heart of man.”

The Dominicks experienced the blessings of that message. “Well, you did reach our hearts, in fact I got a WARM feeling at that moment and laid in bed for hours thinking of what you did,” Tom wrote.

That is the spirit of Christmas.

So these December 18 virtual Friday flowers go to the stranger who reached out to the Dominick family. These flowers also go to all of you out there who are making this Christmas better for others. God bless you.

Photo © Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Shattuck-St. Mary's crest embedded in the new Upper School entrance creates a dramatic first impression.

FINE CRAFTSMANSHIP and art meld at a private school in an old Minnesota river town, imprinting a deep sense of history upon all who visit here.

This is Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, founded in 1858 in Faribault.

I wandered the halls of the Shattuck campus on Saturday during the school’s annual Christmas Walk. (See my December 14 post.) I simply cannot get enough of this place, where wood and stone blend to create an environment that speaks to the past and to academia.

In this second photographic tour, I share some of the charming artistic details that define Shattuck-St. Mary’s. It seems more East Coast institution of higher learning than Midwestern prep school.

If one place captures the historic beauty of Shattuck, it would be the grand stairway area in Morgan Hall.

Art pieces, like this lion head, adorn the Shattuck campus library.

Stained glass windows, an interesting ceiling and warm colors create a cozy upper story alcove.

Sidewalk art outside one of the many heavy wooden doors that are part of Shattuck's charm.

The majestic pillars of Shumway Hall frame flags on a winter day.

Words imprinted upon sidewalk brick outside Shumway Hall speak to the respect former students hold for Shattuck-St. Mary's School.

© Copyright 2009 Audrey Kletscher Helbling