Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Book review: Things you gotta see & do in Minnesota showcased in new travel guidebook April 17, 2023

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(Image source: Julie Jo Larson’s website)

WHETHER YOU’RE A LIFE-LONG Minnesotan, a newbie or a visitor, Julie Jo Larson’s newly-published 100 Things to Do in Minnesota Before You Die guidebook is an invaluable resource for exploring this place I call home. I’ve lived here my entire life, but only experienced or visited one-quarter of the listings in Larson’s travel guide.

Babe the Blue Ox of Paul Bunyan legend stands along Nisswa’s Main Street. In her book, Larson encourages readers to seek out the many Minnesota-centric statues found throughout our state. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

Minnesota is an expansive state, spanning 400 miles from north to south and 350 miles from east to west. So there’s lots to see and do from prairie to woodland, from lakes to rivers, from bluffs to valleys, from small towns to bigger cities. Larson offers a good mix of destinations and activities.

Domeier’s German Store, nestled in a residential neighborhood for decades, is a must-see German import shop in New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I should note that I feel a kinship with Larson in a commonality of roots. She was born in New Ulm, in Brown County next to my home county of Redwood in southwestern Minnesota. New Ulm, situated in the Minnesota River Valley and rich in German heritage and culture, has long been a favorite community of mine. There’s so much to see and do from touring and sampling beer at August Schell Brewing Company; shopping at compact German import store, Domeier’s; exploring Flandrau State Park along the Cottonwood River; watching the Glockenspiel; and lots more. Larson now lives in rural Brainerd and has already written a guide on the Minnesota Northwoods. Her love for Minnesota shines.

Craft beer flights are served on old movie reels at Sleepy Eye Brewing, housed in a former movie theater. While not included in Larson’s book, I recommend a stop at this unique southwestern Minnesota brewery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

In creating this travel book, Larson divides her suggested “things to do” into five categories: Food and Drink, Music and Entertainment, Sports and Recreation, Culture and History, and Shopping and Fashion.

The bluegrass band, Monroe Crossing, performs every July 4 in North Morristown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I so now want to try the chicken wild rice pizza at Poor Guy’s Pizza in Moose Lake. That—the wild rice part—sounds incredibly Minnesotan. I want to tour the Minnesota Music Hall of Fame in New Ulm to learn more about musicians and bands like Monroe Crossing, which performs each July Fourth in North Morristown. I want to wander among the 50 metal sculptures crafted by Ken Nyberg in Vining simply because I love outdoor public art. I want to tour the Mille Lacs Indian Museum and Trading Post in Onamia to learn more about that region’s Indigenous peoples. I want to peruse the handcrafted goods at The Shoppes of Little Falls. I want to…

I climbed up to the tower, but not up the Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower. I’d suggest combining a stop here with Pequot Lakes’ annual Bean Hole Days in July. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2021)

Yes, there’s a lot to do in Minnesota. Some things on Larson’s list, though, I won’t do. I won’t travel into the depths of the earth at the Soudan iron ore mine. I won’t climb to the top of a fire tower at Pequot Lakes, although I’ve hiked to it. I won’t zip through the trees 175 feet off the ground on a Kerfoot Canopy Tour in the Minnesota River Valley at Henderson. But other readers of Larson’s guidebook will and that’s good. Her “100 things to do” offers a variety of experiences and places that appeal to diverse interests.

At Minneopa State Park, Mankato, visitors can get up close with a bison herd on a drive-through across the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2019)

As a life-long southern Minnesotan who has explored this region extensively, I especially appreciate Larson’s tips from other areas of this vast state. She even breaks down her list to activities by seasons and suggested itineraries. Black-and-white photos scattered through the pages and a centerfold of color images only further entice readers to get out and explore.

A walleye statue fronts Lake Mille Lacs in Garrison. The walleye is Minnesota’s state fish. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Bottom line, 100 Things to Do in Minnesota Before You Die rates as an excellent resource for anyone planning a road trip, looking for something to do/see while in a specific area of Minnesota or even just seeking to learn more about the North Star State.

You’ll find great hamburgers and homemade pies at The Dam Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2010)

Looking for a great slice of pie? Larson recommends (and so do I) the Rapidan Dam Store, yes, by the dam at Rapidan (which is near Mankato). Want to enjoy art in a top-notch museum along the Mississippi River? Visit the Minnesota Marine Art Museum in Winona. Interested in a cave tour? Head to Niagra Cave near Harmony. Wanna see a replica Viking ship? The Hjemkost Center in Moorhead features one. Need a book fix? Visit any one of Minnesota’s independent bookstores.

The independent bookstore portion of Victor Lundeen Company in Fergus Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

And while we’re talking books, buy a copy of 100 Things to Do in Minnesota Before You Die, published by Reedy Press. Support a Minnesota author while, bonus, learning about all sorts of places to visit and things to do in this place Larson and I call home.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Elusive sleep & a whole lot of other stuff April 14, 2023

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Coloring can be calming and therapeutic. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

IT’S ONE IN THE MORNING and I am wide awake. My head hurts. I’m restless, unable to fall back asleep after awakening to use the bathroom. I’ve only slept 2.5 hours. A long night looms. My efforts to settle in and resume sleeping aren’t working. Randy needs his rest so I head to the living room and curl into the recliner.

I’m feeling jittery. I switch on the table lamp, pick up a thick coloring book from the floor, pull out the 64-crayon box of Crayolas. Soon I am rhythmically coloring a cat with an orange crayon that is way too reddish-tinted for a domesticated feline. Maybe a tiger. But at this hour I don’t care. I just want to feel some calm and methodically working crayons across paper helps.

When I finish coloring the cat clutching a bouquet of flowers, I decide it’s time to try sleep again. I pull two fleece throws around me, snuggle in for some shut eye. I intentionally aim to relax my body, quiet my mind. I can’t. I hear a pleated shade in the dining room click against the window frame in the gentle wind of the night. I hear the hum of the refrigerator. Every noise is amplified.

By now, I guess the time to be 3 am. I need my sleep. My head still aches. I am overtired, exhausted. I decide to move to the couch. I clear the space of Randy’s cellphone and extra pillows and yesterday’s newspaper. I hesitate to lie down, apprehensive about the vertigo that comes when I need to get up. As soon as I’m lying down, I notice the curtain is not completely pulled shut, letting in a sliver of light. I ease myself up to avoid dizziness, walk across the dark living room, pull the fabric together. Back to the sofa. The red and blue lights of a passing ambulance pulse through the room. I remain on edge, alert, unable to achieve what I most want and need. Sleep.

Blackbirds cluster in a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2022)

THEN COMES BIRDSONG

Eventually I fall into a fitful sleep. I awaken well before dawn. Slowly, morning is rising. I hear the first birds tweeting, only a cardinal’s trill distinguishable like a solo in the birdsong. Occasionally, vehicles pass by on our arterial street, an indication that daybreak is upon us. Traffic increases as time passes. Still, I’m hoping for sleep in this morning dark.

But it doesn’t come. The rectangle window in the east-facing front door lets the spotlight of morning into the room. That light follows a direct line to my head. The head that still hurts.

Soon I hear Randy rustling, up and getting ready for work. It’s 6:45 am. Then I slowly ease myself up, conscious of my need to proceed slowly. After only four hours or so of sleep, I am up for the day.

This is kind of how I feel right now. This art was created by then Faribault Middle School 8th grader Mohamed for a student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault, in 2021. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

DREADED MORNING NECESSITY

In an hour, after breakfast, I will remove the lid from a medication bottle, spill six tablets onto the counter, swallow two at a time with water, the bitter taste lingering on my tongue. These are the cause of my insomnia, my restlessness, my jitters. Prednisone. A steroid designed to calm the immune system and reduce inflammation.

My body needs calming, healing as I deal with feeling off-balance, vertigo, double vision, headaches, ear pain and fullness, tinnitus and more, likely triggered by a virus I had in January, according to my medical team. Viruses and I do not do well. I lost my hearing in my right ear in 2011 during an episode of sudden sensory hearing loss caused by a virus. Thankfully this latest virus is affecting only my deaf ear and not my good ear. Otherwise I would be deaf.

Prednisone and I do not do well together. I took it in 2011 and in 2005 during a 3-month severe case of whooping cough. I am hyper sensitive to the steroid’s side effects of restlessness and insomnia. Yet, I understand that if I want to reduce the inflammation in my body (in my 8th cranial nerve), I need to stick with the 14-day regimen. I want to feel well, to function better, to do the things I love. I hope this med works.

A neurology visit is scheduled in late May, the earliest I could be seen. Physical therapy is planned for my balance issues and vestibular neuronitis. Many times throughout the day I remind myself that I can do this. And when I’m unable to sleep or feel overwhelmed by the restlessness side effects of Prednisone, I will reach for the coloring book, pull out the Crayola box and rhythmically work crayons across paper.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Inspired by an outdoor community gathering spot in Marshall April 13, 2023

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Terrace 1872, under development in September 2022 in downtown Marshall, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)

WHEN I PHOTOGRAPHED an under construction patio while visiting Marshall in mid-September, I wondered exactly what was up with this space. And then I forgot about it…until now.

The Lyon County Historical Society Museum, housed in a former library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

It was a warm and sunny day when I happened upon the patio project in the heart of Marshall’s downtown business district. This ag-based community and college town sits on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, some 20 miles west of my hometown. I was back in the area to view two of my poems on display in the “Making Lyon County Home” exhibit at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum. After touring the museum, Randy and I did a short walk-about in a downtown that looks nothing like the downtown I remember from my last visit 40 years earlier.

During that brief tour, we came across the developing outdoor area. I was impressed by what I saw—by the well-laid pavers, the strong arched entry, the cluster of patio tables and chairs, and the then-unfilled planter bed. I envisioned plants and flowers adding a calming natural balance to hard surfaces.

An unreadable (to me) ghost sign speaks to Marshall’s history. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

My eyes saw all of this. But, still, I didn’t know the backstory until now. This is Terrace 1872, a public gathering space next to City Hall. It came to be after the former Marshall Hotel was demolished, leaving a narrow, empty lot. Local visionaries saw this as an opportunity to create a community gathering spot. And so it will be. And the name, well, Terrace is self-explanatory. But 1872 represents the year Marshall became a city.

A mural, “At the Bend of the Redwood,” sprawls across a business in the heart of downtown Marshall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I love this concept of an outdoor area downtown where visitors, shoppers and downtown employees can meet, relax, just be. I also envision Terrace 1872 as a site for pop-up events—mini art shows, concerts, poetry readings… The possibilities seem endless for this pocket park.

Plans are to add a sculpture or art piece to the terrace, enhancing a downtown already graced by murals. Online plans also show movable fire pits and patio lights strung between posts. I appreciate the vision of an inviting and welcoming space to gather.

Businesses across the street from Terrace 1872. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I’d love to see my community of Faribault adopt Marshall’s Terrace 1872 idea and create a similar mini gathering spot in the heart of our downtown. We have many vacant lots left after buildings were demolished. Previously demolished buildings were replaced by parking lots. Faribault now needs some greenery and additional outdoor public art infused into downtown, creating a peaceful place for people to gather, connect, relax, grow a sense of community while outdoors. I hope the visionaries here follow Marshall’s lead…

TELL ME: Do you have a Terrace 1872 in your community or have you seen one in another community? I’d love to hear details.

 

Heartbreak of grief April 12, 2023

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

THE LAST TIME I shopped for sympathy cards 10 days ago, I thought I’d picked up enough to last a while. But I need more after what has been a really difficult week within my circle.

On Sunday, friends lost their great nephew. Just over a year old, he was struggling to recover from earlier heart surgery. The day prior to his death, this beloved toddler finally came off his heart-lung machine. Those who loved him most felt a collective glimmer of hope even as he remained on a ventilator. And then he died. On Easter morning. I cried great heaving sobs for this darling boy I’d never met, only seen in photos, his body bloated, tubes taped in place, baby fine hair spiking. My heart broke with the sort of grief that rises from deep within a mother’s spirit. Aching. Hurting. Overpowering in its intensity.

Another mother is experiencing similar grief. My cousin’s daughter’s husband died unexpectedly last week, only 18 months into their marriage. How do you, as a mother, console your daughter whose heart is broken? That, too, seems insurmountable. Beyond difficult. As moms, we want to “fix” everything, make it all better. To bear witness to such grief while grieving requires incredible strength. I feel my cousin’s pain as she strives to be there for her now widowed daughter.

And then there are the friends whose nephew died tragically in a recent car accident. When I saw a portrait of the young man and a photo of his one-year-old son, my heart broke for a baby without his daddy, a wife without her husband, parents without a son… So much grief just pouring out for this family.

I wish I could take away the grief, the pain, the suffering. I think when death is unexpected, as it was in all of these situations, it’s decidedly more difficult to accept. We understand when aging parents and grandparents die, even when someone with an aggressive form of cancer dies. We’ve already begun mentally preparing, grieving even before death. But this, these deaths, shock the emotions.

In the all of vicariously grieving, I will do what I can to support my friends and cousin. I’ll purchase more sympathy cards, pen notes written from the heart and pray for comfort to come. I care. Because they are hurting, I hurt.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The powerful impact of a Little Free Library April 11, 2023

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The beautiful handcrafted LFL donated to my hometown of Vesta in 2012 by Todd Bol. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2012)

TEN YEARS AGO, Todd Bol, co-founder of the Little Free Library, drove three hours from Hudson, Wisconsin, with his wife, Susan, to deliver and install a LFL in my hometown. That act of kindness fulfilled my life-long dream of a library in Vesta, a small farming community on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. Growing up on a farm a mile from town, I longed for a library. So when Todd offered to make that dream come true, I felt overjoyed.

The team that worked to bring a Little Free Library to Vesta includes Dorothy Marquardt, left, and Karen Lemcke, representing the sponsoring Vesta Commercial Club, LFL co-founder Todd Bol and me (holding a copy of a poetry anthology I donated). (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2012)

On a July afternoon in 2012, the Bols, a local newspaper reporter, two community leaders and I gathered outside the Vesta Cafe for the library planting. Todd and I then shelved the books we brought. From there the project grew with the cafe operators adding shelving inside for more books, and magazines. A librarian from nearby Wabasso contributed eight bags of books. And I brought more whenever I visited my mom. Community members embraced the LFL. Today the library has expanded into the City Hall/Community Center with a library based there. That’s inside the former Vesta Elementary School where all those years ago I learned to love books from teachers who read The Little House and other chapter books aloud each day after lunch. That compensated for the lack of an in-school library.

The books Todd Bol and I placed inside Vesta’s LFL. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2012)

At the time of his donation to Vesta, Todd called this the first in his Small Towns Minnesota LFL Movement. He aimed to get LFLs into rural communities without libraries. He died in 2018 from pancreatic cancer. But his mission continues today through the LFL’s Impact Library Program designed to reach underserved urban, suburban, rural and indigenous communities without, or with limited access to, books.

A Tardis LFL in a front yard in Waseca. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2018)

Thus far, the St. Paul-based nonprofit has donated more than 1,500 LFLs filled with books via the Impact Library Program. That includes 14 in Minnesota. One went to the small town of Goodridge in northwestern Minnesota near the Canadian border. The closest library is 20 miles away. I can relate to that geographical distance given I also lived 20 miles from a library as a child.

But even in big cities, there’s a need for LFLs. During National Reading Month in March, one was placed inside the governor’s office at the Minnesota State Capitol in celebration of books and accessibility to books.

Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2022)

Today I live several blocks from the public library in Faribault, a city of nearly 25,000 about 120 miles from my hometown. I’ve spotted many LFLs in Faribault neighborhoods. And I’ve also seen many others in Minnesota and beyond, most placed and maintained by individuals or organizations. I have easy access to books.

A LFL in an east-side Faribault neighborhood. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Yet, even with a public library nearby, a library may not be accessible to all. For example, in Le Center, a small town about 30 miles west of Faribault, a LFL was still needed, according to Christine. She applied for a free LFL and got one. In her application to the Impact Library Program, Christine noted the many low income families (including migrants) who live in this rural community and who have limited access to books. Now they have one more book source in a LFL. Also in southern Minnesota, the cities of Austin and Winona (both with public libraries), have LFLs as part of the Impact Library Program.

A LFL in downtown Decorah, Iowa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

When I think back to the July day Todd Bol arrived in my hometown 10 years ago with a LFL and books donated by participating publishers, I feel such gratitude. He told me at the time how much he loved books. And he showed that by bringing a little library to a town without a library. From there, the library in Vesta became so much more than little. It became big. Bigger than I ever dreamed.

Photographed in a front yard in Somerville, MA., in 2016. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

Books opened, still open, the world for me. They took, still take, me on adventures to places I will never visit, experiences I will never experience. Books grew, still grow, my love of words. And that love of words evolved into a love of writing. That’s powerful.

A LFL in downtown Plainview, a small southeastern Minnesota town. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2022)

FYI: If you’re in need of a LFL in your community or neighborhood, apply to the Impact Library Program. There are requirements such as maintaining and stocking the LFL, hosting a community event and more.

TELL ME: Are you the sponsor of a LFL or do you have one near you? I’d like to hear your stories.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Easter memories of song, tattoos & faith April 9, 2023

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My favorite Easter hymn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

IT IS MY ABSOLUTE favorite Easter hymn—“I Know that My Redeemer Lives.” And there is a reason behind that choice.

As a child, I sang that song with my Sunday School class during Easter worship services at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Vesta. Dressed in our Easter finery—girls in pastel dresses and Easter hats, boys in dress pants and shirts, some with bow ties cinching their necks—we belted out the joyful words about the risen Lord.

To this day, I can recite most of the verses. The words are that ingrained in my memory. Words of triumph, love, blessings, assurance and so much more. I feel my soul filling with Easter morning hope in the memories of singing that aged hymn.

I admittedly cannot carry a tune or read a single musical note. And I admit to a bit of fear on those long ago Easter mornings in rural southwestern Minnesota. Not fear about forgetting the words to a hymn. But rather a dislike of sitting in the St. John’s balcony with only a low, partial wall separating me from the sanctuary below. I never jostled for the front pew in that upstairs packed with kids.

I hold another memory from Easter morning. Not of danger, but rather of youthful disobedience. Mom asked my siblings and me not to tattoo our arms before church services. Of course, we didn’t listen and excitedly held washcloth to paper tattoos, imprinting temporary art (from Easter egg dyeing kits) onto our skin. In the end, I don’t think anyone really cared as long as we showed up to sing at church.

And so all these decades later, I remember my favorite hymn and how my faith has carried me through life. Through joyful moments, through ordinary days, through really difficult times…

He lives to bless me with his love.

He lives to help in time of need.

I know that my Redeemer lives!

A joyful Easter to all of you from my home in southern Minnesota, not from the balcony of St. John’s!

TELL ME: Do you have a favorite Easter hymn and/or memory? I’d like to hear.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Good Friday focus on suffering & compassion April 7, 2023

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A crown of thorns (similar to that worn by Jesus on the cross) used in a Stations of the Cross event at my church in 2019. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)

ON THIS GOOD FRIDAY, the day Christ was crucified, I contemplated what I would write. I had two topics in mind—suffering and compassion. Then I realized I needn’t choose one. I could focus on both.

Christ died a cruel and agonizing death. There is no denying that. Yet, even in his betrayal, his pain, his intense suffering, he showed compassion to the end. And beyond the end. We can learn a lot from Jesus.

We all experience suffering in life. That’s a given in our humanity. Right now I have friends going through some really rough stuff within their immediate and extended families. A one-year-old on life support. A nephew dead in a tragic car accident. Another battling advanced cancer. Ongoing and new health issues. It can feel like a lot. And to think otherwise would be to deny the challenges facing people about whom I care deeply. There are days when I feel overwhelmed by all the suffering in this world and beyond. Enough already, I want to scream.

Reaching out with care and compassion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But then I recognize that I can either be dragged down by it or I can do as Christ did—show compassion. I can be that person who listens. I can be that person who offers encouraging words. I can be that person who mails an uplifting greeting card with a personal note. I can be that person who connects and shows care in tangible ways and sets aside my anguish to focus on those at the center of challenges.

This is not the time to pull out my own stories and compare, thus putting the focus on me. This is not the time for me to tell anyone how to think, feel or act. This is not the time to offer advice. This is the time to simply be there. To listen. To hug. To pray, but to take my compassion beyond thoughts and prayers.

We can all work on improving our listening skills. Not just hear, but listen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I am a major advocate of listening. It is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give to someone who is grieving, in crisis, in the throes of health or other challenges. Listening doesn’t seem to come easily for most people. It takes a conscious, focused effort. But at its core, listening is easy. It requires keeping one’s mouth closed, for starters. And then it necessitates concentrating, taking in every word, every nuance, body language and detail.

By nature, I am a quiet observer. I don’t need to be, want to be, the loudest person in the room pushing my ideas or opinions or recommendations. I know too many individuals who fit that self-centered persona. They exhaust me and, yes, sometimes even anger me. Quiet compassion and listening center me.

An important message painted onto a fence in a downtown Faribault pocket garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Today, as I reflect on the life and death of Christ, I see someone who showed great compassion throughout his time on earth. He witnessed and understood suffering. He experienced emotions. He felt pain. Yes, I can learn a lot from Jesus. About loving. About listening. About showing compassion, even in suffering.

TELL ME: How do you show compassion to those who are facing challenges?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Goodbye, Faribo Frosty, & welcome, spring April 6, 2023

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Faribo Frosty’s smile has turned to a frown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2023)

FARIBO FROSTY ISN’T RUNNING away with promises to return next winter. Instead, he’s melting in place, his once broad smile replaced by a frown.

But Faribault’s ginormous snowman, crafted by the Andy Hoisington family, may be the only one saddened by the 50 and 60-degree temps forecast for southern Minnesota beginning on Friday. I’m smiling and I expect many others are, too. It’s been an incredibly snowy winter with our seasonal snowfall total in the top three for Minnesota. This has been a forever winter.

In late February, Faribo Frosty was still smiling and making so many people smile. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2023)

And even though it saddens me to see rotund, 17-foot tall Faribo Frosty slimming down and eventually melting into a puddle, I expect he really will be back. The Hoisingtons have built and maintained an over-sized snowman for 18 years, their gift to the community and a reason to smile.

Snow and blowing snow defined areas of Minnesota earlier this week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2020 used for illustration only)

I am smiling wide these days as the snow pack dwindles, revealing dormant grass. Everywhere I look, lawns are visible. Yes, snow still covers shaded areas and snow piles remain. But mostly, it’s beginning to look like spring here, which if you go by the calendar, it is. Tell that to the good Minnesotans who found themselves in yet another blizzard earlier this week.

Along the foundation on the south side of my house, tulips poked through decaying leaves even as snow fell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2019)

Here in southern Minnesota, rain, rather than snow, fell. Temps, though, stubbornly continue in the 30s with a raw wind. So winter coats are still the dress code of the day.

These tulips, a gift from blogger friend Paula (a native Minnesotan) in the Netherlands, popped color into my life in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)

But winter is loosening its hold under pressure from the sun. Tulips and other spring perennials are popping through the soil in my yard. A few more weeks and they will blaze bold hues. And if I rooted around, I expect I would find crocuses emerging under a layer of leaf mulch.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Another sure sign of spring are spring openers for the Minnesota Twins and the St. Paul Saints. The major and minor league baseball teams rescheduled their openers this week because of weather. No one really wants to sit in a stadium and watch baseball in 30-degree temps coupled with strong winds. But by the time the ball hits the glove late this afternoon (Saints) and on Friday (Twins), conditions should be comfortable, if not balmy by early April in Minnesota standards.

Crocuses emerge from leaf mulch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

So, yes, I think we’ve turned the corner. Faribo Frosty will need to accept that and graciously exit while promising to return again some day…long after the crocuses are done blooming.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In celebration of National Poetry Month, a selected poem April 5, 2023

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I took poetic license and photoshopped this image of the button I wore identifying me as a poet at a poetry reading. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2015)

APRIL MARKS National Poetry Month, a time to celebrate poetic verse and poets. As a long-time writer, I unequivocally state that penning poetry is challenging. Why? Every. Single. Word. Counts.

That makes sense given the structure of poems.

I’ve written poetry off and on since high school. All those decades ago, I wrote angst-filled poems reflective of teenage moods, emotions and life. Recently a high school friend returned a poem I wrote for her nearly 50 years ago, a poem handwritten on lined notebook paper. The folded page, yellowed with age, holds words focusing on my future and the ultimate question at life’s end: What good have I done?

The poem dedicated to Janette is not particularly well-written. Yet, it has value in reflecting my thoughts, in opening myself up, in showing vulnerability to a trusted friend. Will I share it with you? No.

My poem, “Final Harvest,” and two pieces of creative nonfiction were selected for publication in this anthology in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)

But I will share my poem, “Final Harvest,” which published in Insights, Talking Stick 29. It was chosen by the editorial team of Menahga-based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc for the 2020 edition of TS, a selected collection of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction by Minnesotans or those with a Minnesota connection.

This scene at Parkview Senior Living in Belview, Minnesota, inspired a poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2019)

The poetry I write, like nearly all of my writing, carries a strong sense of place, often rooted in my agrarian roots. And, like nearly all of my creative writing, my poetry is rooted in truth. A cornstalk growing in a pink bucket in the community room at Parkview Senior Living, where my mom lived before her 2022 death, inspired “Final Harvest.” It is not at all angst-filled. But, in a round about way, it asks the same question: What good have I done?

Final Harvest

The cornstalk rises tall, straight

from the pink five-gallon bucket

set next to an uncomfortable tan chair

on carpet the color of dirt.

If the retired farmer in the wheelchair

looks long enough, he imagines rows of corn

rooted in a field of rich black soil,

leaves unfurling under a wide blue sky.

Staff stops to check the corn plant

seeded on May 13, not too late,

says the old farmer as he pours water

into the bucket, soaking the soil.

I focus my camera lens on the cornstalk,

pleased and amused by its placement here

like a still life shadowing beige walls

in the community room of my mom’s care center.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Immersing myself in student art at the Paradise April 4, 2023

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Art created by Briana, Faribault Middle School sixth grader. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

“THAT LOOKS LIKE an illustration in a children’s picture book” I think while viewing a drawing of a cat eyeing fish in a fish bowl. But I’m not paging through a book. Rather I’m appreciating a work of art by Faribault Middle School sixth grader Briana in the All Area Student Art Show at the Paradise Center for the Arts. The exhibit with student art from eight schools closes April 8.

A sampling of artwork in this exhibit, here the art of Faribault Middle School students. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

Likewise, I envision other art on t-shirts, note cards, mugs, places beyond the walls of this Minnesota center for the arts in historic downtown Faribault.

I am grateful to the Paradise Center for the Arts showcasing student art annually. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

Yet, on this day I value this student art in its role as part of a gallery exhibit, showcased to the public. This annual show is always such a delight in the variety of art, the talent, the way these young artists pour themselves into their work. Some pieces, more than others, offer glimpses into personalities and interests.

Making music via the visual arts. Guitars by Kiley, left, and Mish of Faribault Middle School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

I can feel my fingers press into the strings of a guitar, the beat of music filling the room.

Paper collages by Faribault Middle School eighth graders Claire, left, and Maddie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

I can hear the rhythmic thump of a basketball upon the floor, feel my foot connecting with a soccer ball, see a tennis ball fly across the net toward me. I can hear a dog panting, feel its presence nearby.

Two especially creative pieces of art from Kylie, left, and Cassie, Faribault Middle School sixth graders. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

I can see my beautiful multi-hued nails, a reflection of this beautiful, diverse world.

Belinda, Roosevelt second grader, created this bold rooster. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

I can hear the rooster crowing, the chicken clucking, the dog barking.

A collection of kitties drawn by Kennedy, first grader at Roosevelt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

I can feel a hundred cat eyes on me, watching, waiting.

Holly, a senior at Faribault Area Learning Center, crafted this mask. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

It doesn’t take much to immerse myself in this student art, to experience it. Art can take us places. Geographically. Mentally. Back in time, forward in time. Into an imaginative place. Into a real place. Art can be healing and therapeutic and so many other things. Art can make a statement.

A sampling of art by students from Roosevelt Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2023)

To confine art’s purpose to a sentence or two would be like locking ideas inside a box. It can’t be done. As long as creatives create, the expanse of art’s reach is endless. Today these youth have shown me their evolving, developing creativity. And that gives me hope in a world that needs art today more than ever.

FYI: This concludes my three-part series on the All Area Student Art Show. Please click here to read my first post on nature-themed art in this exhibit. And then click here to see portraits created by these students.

The PCA is open from noon-5pm Wednesday-Friday and from 10am-2pm Saturday at 321 Central Avenue North in Faribault.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling