The sunflowers at their prime on July 31. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
IN THE GOLDEN HOUR before sunset on the last day of July, I grabbed my 35 mm Canon camera and headed with Randy to a field of sunflowers on Faribault’s east side. The 5-acre site, just off Division Street East behind Pleasant View Estates, is not an agri-tourism draw, but rather a place of peace, beauty and solace. A place to remember, to grieve.
Signage at the sunflower field defines its intention. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
The nonprofit Infants Remembered in Silence created this flower-filled field with the help of donated land, volunteer planting, caretaking and more. IRIS, as the local organization is known, aims to support parents, family, friends, and professionals following the loss of a child in early pregnancy, from stillbirth, and other infant and early childhood deaths, no matter the cause.
A path winds through the field of mini sunflowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Walking the mowed paths curving through the hilly land proved emotional and moving for me. While I have not lost an infant or child (I nearly miscarried with my second pregnancy), my husband has lost siblings to stillbirth and miscarriage as have others in my circle. Most recently, my niece delivered her third son way too early in pregnancy for baby Hunter to survive. It was heartbreaking for Lindsey and Brent, their parents and those of us who love them. Likewise, 42 years ago my Uncle John and Aunt Sue grieved the death of their stillborn son, Luke. I thought of Luke and Hunter and baby Cheyenne, born too early to friends Bill and Geri decades ago. There’s much loss represented in the IRIS Sunflower Garden.
Visitors pen messages and names of infants and children on a memorial whiteboard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I will share more in a future post. More photos and observations and thoughts. Because I am dealing with sensory overload issues that leave me symptomatic and not feeling at all well if I’m on a screen for too long, I have to wait until I’m having a good day, good enough to visually tolerate additional photo processing and writing a longer post. It is the reason I am blogging only minimally. I am focusing on my health.
Scattered throughout the field are spaces like this to pause, reflect, grieve. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
But today I needed to alert you to the IRIS Sunflower Garden before the blooms are dried, the field only a memory of the beautiful space it was while in full, glorious bloom 11 days ago.
A sign marks the Fairy Garden at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
DECIDEDLY MAGICAL. Those words describe my reaction to fairy gardens, mini scenes created with small scale fairies, gnomes, animals and more in an unexpected spot within a flower garden.
A ground level view of gnomes’ rocky woodland home in the gardens of Susan and Dale Kulsrud, featured in a 2014 garden tour. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2014)
I saw my first fairy gardens during the Northfield Garden Club 2014 Garden Tour and have loved them ever since.
A unicorn-hugging fairy in the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Maybe it’s the kid in me or perhaps the creative in me that appreciates these delightful scenes that transport me from reality into a storybook world. We all need to escape the chaos of life occasionally, even if but for a few minutes. Fairy gardens do just that for me.
Love depicted in a bridal couple in the master gardeners’ garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
It’s OK to embrace the child within us, to imagine living in an enchanting place where goodness and kindness and love prevail and everyone gets along. I believe those truths when I spot a fairy garden in the tranquility of a flower garden.
An overview of a section of the master gardeners’ garden in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
A variety of birds can be seen at the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Water bubbles from a stump water feature inside the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Recently I discovered a new fairy garden at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens located on the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault. This garden had already been a favorite spot to visit, to walk among the flowers and other plants, to observe butterflies and birds, and to watch water spilling from a water feature inside a pond.
Reflecting the cultural diversity of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
A volunteer working there on the day I stopped mentioned that the fairy garden is especially popular with kids, who often move the figurines. I love that—envisioning children playing with the mini people and animals, rearranging the scene, stories spinning through their heads. Imaginative play is something we should all engage in, even as adults. We’re never too old, or too young, for that.
Stones imitate water in this bucolic scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Unlike real life, fairy tales always have happy endings. The prince finds Cinderella. Little Red Riding Hood defeats the Big Bad Wolf. Jack climbs the beanstalk, outsmarts the giant, escapes, and saves the day to live happily ever after. Ah, if only happily ever after was always the ending.
A bunny welcomed in the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Fairy gardens offer a respite, happiness, if we we choose to pause, bend low, see them. If we choose to believe in their magic.
DVD cover of “Vertigo.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 20230
“VERTIGO.” I CAN BARELY TOLERATE reading the title of the movie, considered by many to be Alfred Hitchcock’s greatest achievement. That may be so. But when Randy pulled the “Vertigo” DVD from a shelf at the local library and asked if I wanted to watch it, my response was immediate. “NO!”
Vertigo is not something I want to see depicted in a masterpiece film by the simultaneous use of forward zoom and reverse tracking shot. No, thank you. I don’t need that visual. I recently experienced extreme vertigo in real life. And that was beyond awful.
But Randy was attempting to infuse humor into my thoughts, an effort I appreciate given all I’ve been through this summer. The vertigo I experienced back in early April returned a few weeks ago, leaving me dizzy and once again feeling unbalanced. To say I felt frustrated would be an understatement. I’d made notable progress in vestibular rehab therapy, which is retraining my brain in the areas of balance, handling sensory overload and more. All of this connects to my triple diagnoses of vestibular neuronitis, Meniere’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy.
To feel two instances of vertigo and like I was living in a world once again a kilter seemed like a major setback. My physical therapist chose other words: “a bump in the road.” Ryan’s right. I didn’t lose the progress I’d made, just slowed down due to that speed bump. He’s so encouraging, one of the traits I most appreciate in a deeply compassionate and caring physical therapist.
Yet, on the Friday Ryan checked me for benign paroxysmal positional vertigo and then twice performed the Epley Maneuver to move misplaced crystals in my right inner ear back in place, I wasn’t all too happy about his action plan. It was, of course, a correct and necessary procedure. It involved Ryan turning my head to the right and holding it in place while I was sitting, then lying down on my back and going through an Alfred Hitchcock-worthy scene of extreme room spinning vertigo. I gripped Ryan’s forearm with such intensity that I later joked he should receive hazard pay. Without going into more nightmarish detail, he then repeated the procedure. The second time my vertigo had lessened. And when Ryan rechecked me for vertigo a week later, it was gone.
Now I’m trying to get back on track, rebuilding my confidence in doing the assorted exercises designed to retrain my brain. These are familiar exercises, ones I’d mostly mastered before the bump in the road. I left therapy Monday afternoon feeling absolutely wiped out, though, and symptomatic. It’s going to take time for my brain to adjust to exercising.
I’m determined to work hard, to do my exercise homework, to try and live my life as best I can while managing my symptoms. I understand my limits, when I need to take breaks (including limiting screen time) and how to help calm my system. Already my balance is improving. I’m slowly beginning to feel better, to eat better. (I’ve lost 15 pounds.) And I’m overcoming my fear of vertigo returning.
But I’ll never ever watch Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo.” The title triggers too many nightmarish memories.
The cover of Elizabeth Johanneck’s new book features the art of her grandfather, Arnold Kramer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo July 2023)
DECADES REMOVED from southwestern Minnesota, Twin Cities writer Elizabeth Johanneck and I remain rooted to the prairie—the land and people and smalls towns which shaped us. We both grew up on Redwood County farms, were Wabasso High School classmates and today hold a deep respect and fondness for the place we once called home.
Beth, as she’s known to me, recently published a book,If You Can’t Make it to Heaven, at Least Get to Seaforth—The Monica Stories and Then Some. This book features short stories and snippet observations in Beth’s humorous storytelling style, plus paintings and photos. These could be my stories, my memories, just with different characters and settings. Any prairie farm kid likely will feel the same.
ABOUT SEAFORTH & MONICA
But where is Seaforth? And who is Monica? Seaforth, population 77, is a farming community located along County Road 7, south of Minnesota State Highway 19 in central Redwood County. It’s near my hometown of Vesta, seven miles to the northwest. Monica Fischer is Beth’s friend, former co-worker and a character. A baby shoe in a pot of egg coffee and pantyhose found clinging inside a pant leg during Catholic Mass are among the many entertaining Monica stories that left me laughing aloud. By the time I’d finished reading this section of the book, I felt like I knew Monica well. Everyone should have a friend like her.
GROWING UP ON THE MINNESOTA PRAIRIE IN THE 1960s
And everyone should be so fortunate to have experienced rural Minnesota life in the 1960s, as Beth and I did. It is Part 2, “Random Nonsense of a MN Country Mouse,” that I find most similar to my childhood. Both farmers’ daughters with many siblings, Beth and I share the commonalities of being raised on the land among aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and immediate family who loved us deeply.
As in “The Monica Stories,” Beth writes about her personal experiences in a casual conversational style. It’s as if she and I are chatting over cups of coffee, and Beth does like her coffee. I connect with her stories about “the grove,” jars of pocket gopher feet in the freezer, grab bags, bloodsuckers, The Weekly Reader, hearing corn grow and more.
Her humor-infused short stories stretch into adulthood, into becoming a parent and grandparent. These are not earth-shattering remembrances, but rather observations about everyday life and events that could be mine, could be yours, but are definitively Beth’s.
NIBBLES OF COUNTRY INSIGHTS
In a section titled “Country Mouse Nibbles,” Beth shares her thoughts on topics in a sentence or two, the first being “When You Are Raised Close to the Land.” I fully understand—the smell after autumn harvest, looking to the west for approaching storms, filled fruit jars crowding root cellar shelves… And “Holding onto Memories”—Distant cheers from a local ball game are souvenirs worth saving for winter. Truly poetic words.
FEATURING THE ART OF “MINNESOTA’S GRANDPA MOSES”
There is much to be cherished in this book beyond pages and pages of rural memories and insights. Beth also intersperses photos, most from Seaforth. But it is Part 3, “Paintings by Arnold Kramer, Minnesota’s ‘Grandpa Moses,’” which is an historic agrarian art treasure. Following his retirement, Seaforth farmer Arnold Kramer took up painting, visually documenting early to mid-1900s rural life and scenes. He became well-known for his folk art style paintings done in primary colors. Beth’s book holds the only printed collection of paintings by her grandfather. The self-taught artist created more than 400 works of art and was dubbed “Minnesota’s Grandpa Moses” by the University of Minnesota at the peak of his creativity in the 1960s.
Book signing promo courtesy of Elizabeth Johanneck.
Beth’s book is also available for purchase at Chapter Two Bookstore in Redwood Falls and online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Both her book and Cindy’s achieved bestseller status on Amazon following their release.
Julie Kramer, author of bestseller Stalking Susan, praises Beth’s book in her back cover endorsement, calling it “a delightful collection from a farm girl who grew up near the Minnesota home of Laura Ingalls Wilder.” I agree. Fully.
Horseshoe Lake, south of Crosslake in central Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
WE LOVE OUR LAKES in Minnesota, dubbed “The Land of 10,000 Lakes.” In reality, our state has more than 10K, but that’s a nice, round, marketable number.
Recreational boating. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
And because we love our lakes so much, we spend endless hours enjoying them year-round, especially during the summer. I was well into my sixties before I experienced cabin lake life.
A blue heron walks the dock. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Recently, Randy and I headed to a family member’s lake property south of Crosslake in central Minnesota, to us Up North since we’re from southern Minnesota. Randy’s youngest sister and her husband have graciously invited extended family to stay in their guest lake cabin. And each summer for the past several, we’ve made the four-hour drive north to relax at the lake.
The lake experience is new for Randy also, relaxing on the patio on a cool day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
As someone who grew up on a dairy and crop farm with only two childhood vacations in her history, none of them at a lake, these cabin stays have proven tranquil, relaxing and lovely in every way. There among the tall pines with a clear view of Horseshoe Lake, I feel such peace. Isolated. Disconnected from the world unless I opt to connect via my smartphone.
Lounge chairs line the beach. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Time has no clock here. No schedule.
A loon on Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
Awaken with the sun or sleep in. While away hours fishing from the dock, lounging on the beach or reading lakeside. Pull a kayak into the lake if you’re a water lover, which I am not. I like water, just not being on water. Watch the loons while listening to their haunting call.
Randy took a kayak out to retrieve a kite he lost in the lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Delight in the imaginative play of the grandchildren, this year forming the Shovel Team with their over-sized beach toys. For me, this is part of the joy of lake life, this time together with Izzy, 7, and Isaac, 4, who always anticipate their family vacation to the “brown house.” They look forward to helping Grandma assemble s’mores, to swimming and playing on the beach, to ice cream at Lake Country Crafts & Cones and to pizza from Rafferty’s. We are building life-long memories.
The lake can be busy with boaters at times, especially weekends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
This is perhaps what I love most, this being with family. Mornings and afternoons and evenings spent together, then sleeping under the same roof. Meals mostly charcoal-grilled and shared. Walking hand in hand with the grandchildren down the long pine-lined driveway. Collecting shells. Washing sand from little feet. Cuddles and hugs and sitting on the bed playing a card game with made up rules.
And this year, solar system artwork created by artist-in-residence Isaac taped to the log walls in our bedrooms.
Water skiing behind a jet ski. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
This is the stuff of Up North at the cabin. Generational connections defined by love-filled, joyous moments at the lake.
The message I left on a park bench in Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS now is love sweet love…and a whole lot more.
But on this afternoon in Faribault’s Central Park, love centers my thoughts. For no particular reason, only that I want to leave a message upon a park bench. An uplifting message crafted from acorns plucked from the grass.
As I gather the prematurely fallen mini acorns, I realize this task will take a while. So I invite Randy to help. He does.
Soon I have enough, not to form the beginning lyrics by songwriter Hal David from the 1965 song made popular by singer Jackie DeShannon, but to shape the singular word, “love.”
Carefully I position each acorn, quickly learning that if I don’t turn them just right, nudging one next to the other, they will roll off the slanted bench seat. Can’t have love disappearing even before it’s become a reality.
Thirty-one acorns later and I’ve written my word of the day. I am hopeful that someone who needs to read that word will find it and feel encouraged, uplifted, loved. We can all use a little (a whole lot of) love in our lives.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2018 used for illustration only)
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a true story, with some embellishments.
Following a four-hour search Tuesday, a Faribault man discovered the source of a foul odor inside his Willow Street garage—a dead critter tentatively identified as a shrew. The black mole-like creature was found trapped inside the wall behind a large shelving unit.
The discovery came just as the homeowner was about to request assistance from the Southeastern Minnesota Joint Response Team’s cadaver dog. “The stench was oppressive, more toxic than Canadian wildfire smoke,” the man told a local newspaper reporter.
Local animal control officials declined to comment on the situation, citing data privacy laws. However, a department spokesperson stated that property owners are responsible for disposing of dead shrews, mice, moles and other small animals inside buildings and in their yards when there is no risk to the public.
The homeowner, who wished to remain anonymous, removed the decomposing shrew, doused the deadly scene with bleach, then flung his garage doors wide open. He also used a box fan to circulate the air. “Even after many hours, the place still stunk,” he said. “And my garage is a mess. I had to move everything and crawl on my hands and knees trying to find the dead thing.” Bottle flies eventually helped him pinpoint the location.
“I never want to go through this again,” the man said Wednesday morning as he moved shelves and other items in his garage back in to place. “It’s not like I just have a lawnmower, snowblower, bikes and yard tools. This is a working man’s garage.”
TELL ME: Do you have a similar totally true or embellished true story?
An unopened dusky milkweed brings a soft color into the prairie landscape.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
MID-SUMMER, AND THE MINNESOTA landscape is awash in color, despite the drought.
Walk the prairie or the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
This is the season to get outdoors and explore. Walk the land. Through woods or across prairie. Around a city block or park or public garden. Along a river, upon a beach. Delight in the essence of Nature in all her summer glory.
Black-eyed Susan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Flowers flush color.
A butterfly feeds on a milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Patterned butterflies flit, then pause to unfurl proboscis and drink of sweet floral nectar.
Prairie grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Long-stemmed grasses stretch toward the July sky.
A solitary dewdrop on a milkweed leaf. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Wild raspberries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Veins run through the leaves of wild grapes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I tend to notice details, especially with camera in hand. And therein, in the part of the whole, is the beauty we often pass by in our hurried lives. I encourage you to slow your pace so as not to miss a solitary dewdrop, the texture of leaves, the deep purple of a plump wild raspberry.
Bold berries jolt color into the greenery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Moth upon thistle holds its own beauty. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Notice the veins in bright red berries, the dusky moth among thistles, the way grass heads heavy with grain bend toward the earth.
Unidentified white flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
From the daintiest of white blossoms laddering a stalk to the bold gold of a prairie wildflower, there is much to see, to appreciate, to embrace in these summer days.
A nature-themed memorial at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Fill your eyes, your heart, your spirit, your mind with Nature’s beauty. Ride on the wings of the butterflies. Sway in the wind like blades of grass. Then settle, like a single dewdrop upon a leaf. Quiet. Filled with peace. Calmed in the presence of the land.
NOTE: All photos were taken recently at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I FOLDED THE PILE of pea pods into the front of my Minnesota-themed tee, the one with two grain bin graphics. It seemed appropriate for the vegetable gathered from the Friends of Buckham Memorial Library Organic Learning Garden. Harvest of grain. Harvest of vegetables.
In the library window by the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2020)
I hadn’t expected to pick peas when Randy and I stopped at our local library Saturday afternoon en route to the grocery store for meat to grill. But when we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to check out the garden while Randy looked for videos.
To my surprise, I found pea plants heavy with plump pea pods. I felt giddy. Garden fresh peas have always been a favorite. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had them.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I hold fond memories of picking and shelling peas from my childhood garden. I loved running my thumb down the seam of the pod, opening the shell to reveal a row of tiny green orbs. So perfect. And then I slid my thumb down that tidy row, peas dropping one by one into a metal pan. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. There’s a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic process of shelling peas.
Once home, as I shelled those peas carried in my t-shirt to the van, I thought of all those summers back on the farm. I never realized then how lucky I was to eat mostly food grown or raised on our acreage. It was simply what everyone did in rural Minnesota. Planted a garden. Raised beef cattle, pigs and/or chickens.
That evening as we sat down to a grilled pork chop supper (not dinner) with sides of potatoes and peas, I dipped my spoon into those fresh peas covered with butter. I tasted the sun and sky and earth. But mostly, I tasted memories. Garden memories.
A found message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
CALL IT SERENDIPITY, coincidence, even divine intervention. But when I spotted a white stone in a flowerbed at Faribault’s Central Park recently, then flipped the stone to read the words, have faith, I felt with certainty this message was meant for me.
I needed these encouraging words. It’s been a long past several months as I deal with ongoing challenging health issues that sometimes leave me feeling hopeless and in tears. It’s a lot, these layered diagnoses of vestibular neuronitis, Menerie’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy. When symptoms flare, which is often, I wonder if I will ever be myself again. And every time a new symptom arises, I wonder why my body is seemingly under siege. Definitive answers and solutions feel elusive.
Yet, if I reflect on this journey, I can see improvements in balance and my ability to handle sensory input. I attribute those to 3.5 months of vestibular rehab therapy and the prayers of many. Have faith. Those two words are powerful, filled with hope. Hope for better days, better health, a return to life as I once lived it.
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THANK YOU to you, my blog readers, for your gifts, cards, prayers and words of encouragement. Every caring word and act of kindness uplifts me and makes me feel, oh, so loved. I am grateful for your support, care and concern.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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