Two of my poems and a work of creative nonfiction are published in this literary anthology. (Book cover sourced online)
FOR THE 16thCONSECUTIVE YEAR, my writing has been selected for publication in the Talking Stick, a literary anthology published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc based in northern Minnesota.
The editorial board chose two of my poems, “Up North at the Cabin” and “Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire,” and a work of creative nonfiction, “Birthing Everett,” for publication in volume 34, titled Toward the Light. The recently-released book features 128 pieces of writing by 76 writers either from Minnesota or with a strong connection to the state.
I consider it an honor to be published in the Talking Stick, which includes the work of talented writers ranging from novice to well-known. I especially appreciate that entries are blind-judged so each piece stands on its own merits. There were 275 submissions from 119 writers for this year’s competition.
Grandpa Randy and grandchildren Izzy and Isaac follow the pine-edged driveway at the northwoods lake cabin. This is my all-time favorite cabin photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)
I’m particularly excited about two of my pieces published in Toward the Light. Anyone who’s ever spent time at a lake cabin will enjoy my “Up North” poem as it centers on nature and family togetherness. I was in my sixties before I first experienced cabin life. Now I’m building memories with my grandkids each summer at a family member’s lake cabin. That centers this poem.
My grandson Everett, nine months old, plays with his toys in his Madison, Wisconsin, home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
A grandchild also focuses “Birthing Everett,” a deeply personal story about the birth of my 10-pound grandson in January. My daughter Miranda nearly died during childbirth. I knew I needed to write about this to heal from my own trauma of nearly losing her. I will be forever grateful to the medical team at UnityPoint Health-Meriter Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, for saving Miranda’s life. You just don’t think of women dying during childbirth any more, but it can, and does, happen.
POETRY, WHEN READ ALOUD, is, in many ways, like music. It presents one way on paper. But read a poem aloud, and it becomes a song. Music with rhythm, beat and emotion. Vocal intonations carry a poem to melodic heights.
Becky Boling’s recently-published collection of her poems. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
At 6 p.m. Thursday, May 22, the music of poetry will fill Books on Central in Faribault as Becky Boling reads from her first anthology, Here Beyond Small Wonders. Recently published by Finishing Line Press, this collection features detail-rich poems that often focus on ordinary subjects. It’s signature Boling, who is a prolific poet, served as Northfield’s co-Poet Laureate, and is retired from teaching Spanish and Latin American Literature at Carleton College in Northfield.
I love Boling’s writing. Her poems resonate with me in an everyday life kind of way. She has a visually-strong writing style—as most poets do—coupled with emotion-evoking poetry that prompts memories, questions, deeper thinking.
(Literary Event promo courtesy of Books on Central)
Boling has invited four other poets to join her at Thursday’s reading. Those include her husband, D.E. Green, also an accomplished poet; Northfield poet Heather Candels; Faribault poet Larry Gavin; and me. I’m honored to join this gifted group of writers in reading our poems aloud. I will read right after Boling.
I’ve previously listened to all of them read, so I can vouch for how much I’ve enjoyed hearing them. Gavin, especially, has a rich radio voice that makes me want to settle in and let his voice pull me into his writing.
Now, as I’m preparing for this Thursday evening event, I’m paging through the many books in which my poetry has published, selecting the poems I want to read during my allotted five minutes. Then I’ll practice reading those poems aloud, using my voice to create poetic music.
This used bookshop is located in the heart of downtown Faribault along Central Avenue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
FYI: Books on Central, 227 Central Avenue North, Faribault, hosts periodic free literary events to celebrate authors and to draw people into this volunteer-run used bookstore operated by Rice County Area United Way. All proceeds benefit select nonprofits in the county. It’s a beautiful small space (complete with a centering chandelier) housed in a former jewelry store.
The Riverwalk Steps Poem alongside the Cannon River in the heart of downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I FEEL FORTUNATE to live in an area of Minnesota which values poetry. Some 20 minutes away in Northfield, poems imprint upon concrete throughout the city as part of the long-time Sidewalk Poetry Project. Along the Riverwalk, a poem descends steps. In the public library, a poem graces the atrium.
Sidewalk poetry in downtown Northfield carries a powerful message.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But that’s not all in Northfield. This city of some 21,000 has a poet laureate, currently Russ Boyington, who fosters poetry, organizes and publicizes poetry events, and leads an especially active community of wordsmiths. These are published poets, serious about the craft.
This anthology published in 2024.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Five seasoned Northfield poets recently collaborated to publish a collection of their work in We Look West. Even if you think you don’t like poetry, you will find something in this anthology which resonates. These poets take the reader through the seasons of life with humorous, sad, nostalgic, reflective and introspective poems. This anthology is especially fitting for anyone closer to the sunset, than the sunrise, of life.
A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
April, National Poetry Month, marks a time to celebrate poets like those in Northfield and beyond. In my own community of Faribault, we have an especially gifted poet, Larry Gavin, a retired high school English teacher and writer. He’s published five collections of his work. Larry writes with a strong sense of place, his poems reflective of his love of nature, of the outdoors. A deep love of the prairie—he attended college, then lived and worked for a while in my native southwestern Minnesota—connects me to this remarkable poet. Plus, Larry has the rich voice of a poet, which makes listening to him read his poems aloud an immersive, joyful experience.
A chamber choir, directed by composer David Kassler, performs artsongs written from poems in 2017, mine included. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I, too, write poetry and am a widely-published poet, although certainly not as much as many other Minnesota poets. From anthologies to a museum, from the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride to poet-artist collaborations, billboards and more, my poems have been out there in the public sector. Perhaps the most memorable moment came when a chamber choir performed my poem, “The Farmer’s Song,” during two concerts in Rochester in 2017. David Kassler composed the music for the artsongs.
Two of my rural-themed poems are included in an exhibit, “Making Lyon County Home,” at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum in Marshall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Poetry has, I think, often gotten a bad rap for being stuffy, difficult, too intellectual and unrelatable. And perhaps it was all of those at one time. Butt that’s not my poetry. And that’s not the poetry of Larry Gavin or of the five We Look West Northfield poets or most poets today. The poetry I read, write and appreciate is absolutely understandable, rich in imagery and rhythm, down-to-earth connective.
My most recent poem selected for the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride. Poets must follow character and line limits in writing these poems.This is a competitive process.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
When I write poetry, I visualize an idea, a place, a scene, a memory, an emotion, then start typing. The words flow, or sometimes not. Penning poetry is perhaps one of the most difficult forms of writing. Every word must count. Every word must fit the rhythm, the nuances of the poem in a uniquely creative way.
Not the pancakes Grandpa made, but the pancakes and sausages made at the annual Faribault Lions Club Pancake Breakfast. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
One of my most recent poems, “Pancakes with Grandpa,” was inspired by an exchange between my husband, Randy, and our grandson Isaac, then four. It was printed in Talking Stick 32—Twist in the Road, an anthology published in 2023 by northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. It’s a competitive process to get writing—poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction—in this collection.
So, in celebration of National Poetry Month, here’s my pancake poem, penned by a poet who doesn’t particularly like pancakes.
My poem about spring, shown here, was part of the 2011 Roadside Poetry Project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)
ON THIS FIRST DAY of spring, I want to share a poem I wrote in 2011. My spring-themed submission for the Roadside Poetry Project seasonal competition won. And, as a result, my poem was printed on billboard-sized signs, then placed along a roadway just off Interstate 94 in Fergus Falls in west central Minnesota. Some 100,000 vehicles a month passed by my poem.
Writing good poetry is not easy. And when you must write within guidelines, the process is even more challenging. Roadside Poetry contest rules called for only four lines of poetry with a maximum of 20 characters per line. The poem needed to fit on the signs and be readable from a distance.
Somehow, my brain managed to create what I consider a succinct and visually-strong poem defining spring. On this first day of spring, enjoy my short seasonal poem. Happy spring!
I recently finished this book about slavery, freedom and abolition. A must-read. (Book cover sourced online)
DURING THIS, BLACK HISTORY MONTH, I’ve intentionally read books about slavery, Black people and the Black experience. It’s important to me that I widen my knowledge and understanding. Many of the stories are heartbreaking, almost unbelievable in the mental and physical cruelty inflicted upon Blacks. This is hard stuff to read. But it is in the hard stuff that we begin to fully comprehend the importance of empathy, kindness, compassion and the need to stand strong against that which is hateful, hurtful and oppressive.
This book resonates with me personally and professionally in telling the story of 1940s world famous photographer Roy DeCarava, unknown to me until I read this book. Trained in the arts and in photography, he would go on to photograph everyday life in his native Harlem via work for the Works Progress Administration Project, fellowships and more. He worked as a photographer for major publications, has/had his photos featured in exhibits and art museums, became an art professor… And he was Black.
But what I love most about this story is that DeCarava aimed to photograph everyday life, everyday scenes, everyday people in the streets of Harlem. He shows life in raw reality. He worked back in the days of film, admittedly much more challenging than shooting with a digital camera. I started with film, too. You often get only one chance to take a photo. No firing off shots. No digital manipulation. Just a single, unedited print.
I took this portrait, one of my favorites, nearly 11 year ago at International Festival Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)
I will never match the talent of DeCarava. But I do share his focus. I also aim to photograph the ordinary, the everyday, right where I live (or mostly in southern Minnesota). Like him, I notice details. The light. The moments. The expressions. The people, scenes, settings and events that define a place. The anything that might make for an interesting photo.
Unlike DeCarava, my roots are rural. I’ve only ever been to New York City once, while in college. I was awed by the skyscrapers, the street vendors, Chinatown and men hurrying along Wall Street in leisure suits. (This was in 1977.) But I have no desire to return to a place that feels too closed in, too busy, too chaotic.
My photo of Jane chalking art on a Faribault sidewalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
Yet, Harlem in Upper Manhattan was DeCarava’s home, where he found the subjects of his photos. Everywhere Beauty Is Harlem gives a snapshot of the images this photographer snapped. A man on the subway. A boy drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. Black and brown children dancing in water spraying from a fire hydrant.
Beyond the visuals, the story in this children’s picture book encompasses the essence of DeCarava’s photographic focus on the everyday and the ordinary. I really ought to buy a copy of this book for my personal library. If you want to understand my photographic work, then read this multi award-winning children’s picture book. But, more importantly, read this book to learn about a world famous Black photographer whose talent for visual storytelling is a gift to all of us. To see the world through his eyes presents life as it is. Real. Raw. Unedited.
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FYI: I encourage you to also check out the photography of New York City photographer Keith Goldstein, whose work I follow on his blog, “For Earth Below.” His street photography has opened my eyes to humanity in a way that I never see here in southern Minnesota. His talent is remarkable. Goldstein, I think, works much like Roy DeCarava did, with his camera focused on the everyday, the ordinary. And therein both have found the extraordinary.
Vintage valentines from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVE. It’s today’s buzzword, the reason behind Valentine’s Day, the universal day of love.
But let’s look beyond the romantic version of love connected to this day. Let’s look at who and what we love. Be specific. I’ll start. In the process, I expect you will learn a bit more about me.
First, I love my family. Obvious, right? Specifically, those dearest to me are my core family of Randy, Amber, Miranda, Caleb, Marc, John, Isabelle, Isaac and Everett. I should note here that my grandson Everett was born just a month ago, widening the circle of our family. I am happiest when we are all together. That last happened in August. Distance separates us and I’m talking Minnesota to Wisconsin to Massachusetts.
I also love my friends. I won’t name them. There are too many. But I feel grateful for friendship, including those who have become friends via the blogging world.
A positive message on a SCRABBLE board at LARK Toys, Kellogg, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
TRAITS I LOVE IN PEOPLE
As long as we’re talking people, here are the traits I love, or most value, in individuals. Empathy, compassion and kindness. Honesty. And the ability to listen. I can’t even begin to tell you how often people turn a conversation around to focus on themselves. Just don’t.
Autumn leaves in the Cannon River at the Cannon River Wilderness Park, Rice County, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVIN’ GREEN, NATURE & MORE
I love the color green. Always have. My eyes are green, a rarity in eye color. Green is also the hue of nature, another reason to like it.
I love when spring pops green in a shade that is indescribably vibrant. But I also love autumn, my favorite season actually, with its flaming treelines, its cobalt skies, its crisp air, its cooler days. I can bring out the flannel shirts then. I love flannel. Fashionista I am not. I could care less if my clothes are “in style” or not. I go for comfort. Flannel and boot-cut blue jeans, which I hear are now back in vogue due to a certain rapper performing during half-time of the Super Bowl. (Did anyone understand what he was saying? I didn’t.)
Rap is definitely not my style. But I love oldies music, oldies meaning songs from the 1970s by groups like Chicago, Bread and the Eagles. I also enjoy listening to contemporary Christian music on Twin Cities-based KTIS radio.
I typed a message on a vintage typewriter in a Hastings, Minnesota, antique shop many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
FOR THE LOVE OF CREATIVITY
I prefer quiet, though, to music. Quiet allows me to write, which I absolutely love. No surprise there. I love the process, the way words flow and meld into something that becomes something. Something that holds meaning, entertains, fills me with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. I feel the same about photography. I love to read, too, especially mysteries or books that enlighten me.
A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County in my native southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVIN’ A WHOLE LOT MORE IN LIFE
This list of “loves” is getting lengthy, so here are some other random things I love: country drives along back gravel roads, visiting small towns, garage sales and thrift shops, art, time at the Horseshoe Lake cabin (not ours, but belonging to family), campfires, water rushing over rocks, vintage tablecloths and drinking glasses, the prairie, the woods, lilacs and zinnias.
Zinnias, a great cut, easy-to-grow-from-seed colorful flower that reminds me of Mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Whatever and whomever you love (feel free to share a few of your “loves” here), may you feel embraced by love, especially today. Happy Valentine’s Day!
My fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry has published in all these volumes of The Talking Stick, plus volumes 32 and 33 not pictured here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WITH ONLY WEEKS until the deadline for an annual writing contest, I am stretching my mind to come up with short stories and poetry that will please not only me, but also the editors of a Minnesota-based literary anthology. It’s not easy, this creative writing. Yet, I enjoy the challenge.
I can’t always explain from whence my fictional stories spring. I’ve written some really dark stuff that has landed me publication and sometimes prizes. Stories with undertones of darkness and violence. Nothing like I’ve experienced in real life, although certainly I’ve faced plenty of dark and trying days.
When I read my second place winning fictional story, “Dear Mother,” at last fall’s Talking Stick 33—Earth Signsbook launch party in northern Minnesota, I qualified my reading with “I don’t know where this dark story came from.” It was implied that the main character killed her abusive mother. The writer who followed me as the first place winner in fiction also wrote a dark story. I don’t recall if Tara or some other writer explained that, in order to reach the light, we need to go through darkness. That resonated with me.
The beginning of “Barbershop Prompt,” published in Talking Stick 31–Escapes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I’ve completed the initial draft of my first piece of fiction for this year’s contest. It, too, includes some dark elements. The community calendar in my local newspaper prompted the story, which I realize may seem rather odd. But, hey, inspiration can strike in the most unlikely of places. A previous work prompted by a sign at Bridge Square Barbers in Northfield earned me a second place in creative nonfiction in 2022.
Now three years later, with the printed community calendar of events lying on my office desk, I glanced from newspaper to computer screen as the idea of a story began to take shape. Once I finished the intro, words began to fly (OK, admittedly not always) from my brain to the keyboard to the screen. The draft is saved, awaiting a second look in a few days.
This sharing library in Pine River is inspiring my next creative work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Now I’m on to my next piece of writing. A photo I took of a sharing library (like a Little Free Library) in Pine River is serving as my inspiration for a story that has yet to unfold. But I see the possibilities in the many love-themed/titled books shelved inside that library adorned with a Peace/Love/Books sticker.
Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare. Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers, author unknown to me. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, packed with life lessons, including that of love. Sin Killer by Larry McMurtry, a book of adventure, humor and romance on the American frontier. And then Absolute Power by David Baldacci, about a President “caught” with a billionaire’s wife. That title seems so relatable to today. Absolute power. But writing contest rules call for no political or religious rants, meaning I will need to steer clear of politics.
And so I’ll see where this idea goes. If a plot develops in my mind, if a story flows into something that may, or may not, be dark.
A Halloween mask and costumes for sale at Something for All, a thrift shop in Lonsdale, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)
OCTOBER 31. Halloween, the one day when scary is celebrated in a big way. But October 31 also marks another notable day, the final day in Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Domestic violence is far scarier than any ghoulish, frightening, unsettling costume or event. Domestic violence and abuse are real. Real scary.
Warning signs of relationship abuse from an event held in Faribault many years ago.
Abuse can be physical, psychological/mental and/or emotional. Death, injuries, scars, trauma and so much more result from abuse which is, at its core, all about manipulation, power and control. Those can be insidious or blatant.
My fictional story, “Evidence,” is published in this anthology.
With that brief background, I am sharing a fictional story printed in Talking Stick 32—Twist in the Road, a literary anthology published by northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. I wrote “Evidence,” which won an honorable mention in the 2023 Talking Stick writing competition. Please read my story and then my comments following.
Some victims of domestic abuse/violence flee with minimal belongings in a single bag or suitcase. Some leave with nothing at all. Leaving marks the most dangerous time period when exiting an abusive relationship. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Evidence
She waited inside the bus station, body molded into a hard plastic chair, battered suitcase at her feet nudging shoes that needed a good polishing. Beverly felt restless, lost, as if at any moment she would awaken from her nightmare of a life. She pressed her right thumb into her sweaty left palm, a soothing habit that sometimes helped calm her. But not today.
Only hours earlier she’d fled to this place after tossing several changes of clothing alongside her diary in the bag now resting on the sticky, worn floor soiled by a thousand feet, a thousand stories. Today her story.
Her mind drifted to those first years when she wrote in flowery script, embellishing her writing with hearts. Love, so much love. He cherished her, loved her, embraced her with words and flowers and praise. Until he didn’t.
It was all so subtle, how Thomas, not Tom, chose to slip hurtful words into conversations, wearing her down. Day by day. Complaints of undone laundry and cold dinner and dirty dishes. And then the accusations flew. Where were you? Why were you speaking to him? Why can’t you ever do anything right? Then he slapped her. Repeatedly. Often.
She felt beaten. Weak. Exhausted. Trapped. Her writing reflected that, emotional words looping across the lined paper. Uneven and running together and sometimes nearly unreadable. Tears traced through the ink and wrinkled the pages.
For the longest time, she endured, pulled inside herself, determined she could do better, be better, love him more. Yet, it was never enough. Thomas continued to berate her, to find fault in everything she said and did. And she recorded it all in the journal zippered inside the suitcase stuffed in the back of their closet, the suitcase now at her feet. Evidence.
Beverly pulled herself back to reality, checked the time on the massive clock inside the bus station. Soon the Greyhound would roll in. She grabbed the worn handle of the battered bag, rose from the uncomfortable chair, and headed toward the boarding area. The momentum of hurrying passengers, their shoes slapping against the speckled linoleum, carried her. The bus doors pulsed open. Beverly stepped inside, handing her ticket to the driver. Her mood shifted, lightened with each step down the aisle until she saw him through the window, face flashing anger, fists clenched at his sides.
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This text was published in a book, “She Stays,” by Eric Staab-Absher, director of HOPE Center in Faribault.(Text copyright of Erica Staab-Absher)
COMMENTS: If you recognize yourself or someone you love in my fictional story, first know that you are not alone. Help is available through organizations that will support you and/or your family. That may be a shelter or an advocacy/outreach organization focused on preventing domestic violence, providing education and resources, and simply being there for you. If you’re not ready for that step, talk to a trusted friend or family member.Seek help.
Leaving an abuser is not easy. It’s scary and difficult. Even dangerous. But you (or someone you love) are so worth living a life free from manipulation, control, abuse and/or violence.
VIOLENCE FREE MINNESOTAhas released its “2023 Homicide Report: Relationship Abuse in Minnesota.” In 2023, there were 40 confirmed victims of intimate partner and domestic violence-related homicides in the state. That’s the highest number since tracking began in 1989. Gunshot is the leading cause of deaths. This report honors victims across Minnesota with photos and information. It’s packed with statistics and other valuable information and is well worth your read. Click here to read the full report or a summary of it.
I am a down-to-earth writer who focuses on writing about people, places and events primarily in Minnesota. Here I’m pictured outside Jack Pines Resort, rural Osage. I was there attending a book launch party for an anthology in which my writing published. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling, September 2024)
I’VE ALWAYS LOVED WRITING. From early on, my love of language, of words, of grammar, of, yes, even spelling, defined me. Give me a book to read. Give me a spelling test. Give me a pen and a notebook. And then a computer. Words, words and more words. I will find them, use them, create stories with them.
At one time, I wanted to pursue a degree in German. But, after a year in college, I changed direction because I didn’t want to teach. I decided to study journalism. It was absolutely the right decision for me, my interests and my skills.
With that intro, I join the many writers who are celebrating National Newspaper Week October 6-12. That includes journalists from my local paper, The Faribault Daily News, in which my writing publishes each weekend and sometimes more. I no longer consider myself a full-fledged journalist as much as a writer. These days I write from a personal perspective, more as a columnist, rather than as an objective reporter. I write fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry, too.
MY JOURNALISM EXPERIENCE
But I did work as a full-time newspaper reporter and photographer after graduating with a mass communications degree (news/editorial emphasis) in 1978 from Minnesota State University, Mankato. I worked for newspapers in Gaylord, Sleepy Eye, Mankato, Owatonna and Northfield. Eventually I gave up journalism when I started a family. The long and odd hours are not conducive to family life.
Today my three kids are long grown and gone, and I’ve found my way back to writing with an added focus on photography. What makes a good writer, a good newspaper reporter? Topping my list are the abilities to listen and focus on detail. I’ve always considered myself a good listener, a necessity for any newspaper reporter. I developed the skill of taking notes while actively listening. Organization also factors in. There’s always a bit of homework involved in prepping for an interview. Research the subject. Prepare questions, but be open to asking more as the interview progresses. Focus on details. Tell a story.
I worked in journalism before the days of cellphones, so I filled notebooks with pages of notes. I also studied and worked in the profession before computers and digital cameras. My first job out of college, I typed all of my stories on a manual typewriter, shot all my photos on film. I would never want to go back to either. Give me a computer and a digital camera. It’s much easier to create with those.
FOCUS ON LOCAL STORIES
I love sharing stories and photos of people, places and events that weave into my life, that I discover. I find joy in following a gravel road, in discovering interesting signage, in exploring small towns, in meeting ordinary people following their passions… People often tell me I find the most interesting things. I agree. And then I tell them it’s right here in their own backyard if only they pause to look, and see.
Therein lies the value of community journalism, which I want to highlight and honor during National Newspaper Week. Our local newspapers are all about local. Local reporters cover and write about the people, places and events that are happening locally. They write stories ranging from features to hard news. I covered all of those, too, while working as a full-time reporter. It’s not an easy job. People are quick to criticize, slow to praise. So I want to state right now that I appreciate our local news team. They work long, odd hours, just as I did, to gather and write the news. They care.
Everyone ought to care that freedom of the press thrives, that these journalists are covering our government meetings, writing about our neighbors, highlighting ordinary people who do extraordinary things and much more. We need newspapers as much today as ever before, perhaps even more.
Please, support your local newspaper by subscribing. And thank a newspaper reporter for their dedication to the profession. They deserve to be recognized, especially during National Newspaper Week.
Parched, cracked earth by the Turtle Pond, River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2021, used for illustration only)
The invitation to the 2012 “It’s All One Water” reception and group show in Zumbrota.
The winning entries were printed in a beautiful 55-page booklet that paired the writing with submitted photos, all themed to water. I opted to pen a poem personifying Autumn as a woman searching for water upon the parched land. To this day I still love that strong visual, inspired by my long ago observations at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault.
And if I were to tap further into my visual memory, I would also see a semi trailer full of hay parked in a southwestern Minnesota farmyard in the summer of 1976. That was a year of severe drought, when my dad bought a boxcar full of hay from Montana so he could feed his cows and livestock. It was the year that nearly broke him as a farmer.
A REALLY DRY & WARM SEPTEMBER IN MINNESOTA
Here we are, 48 years later, settling once again into drought/abnormally dry weather conditions in Minnesota after a winter of minimal snow followed by an excessively wet spring, a dry-ish summer and now a record warm and dry September. This September, the Twin Cities recorded only 0.06 inches of rain and the most days of 80-degree or warmer high temps in any September. It doesn’t feel like fall in Minnesota, more like summer. But at least temperatures cool overnight.
Areas of western and central Minnesota are under a Red Flag Warning today, code words for a high fire danger, due to dry, windy conditions and dropping relative humidity. We are experiencing “near critical fire weather conditions” here in the southern part of the state.
AND THEN THERE’S TOO MUCH WATER
Contrast this with the weather my friends in western North Carolina and other areas affected by Hurricane Helene are experiencing. One is OK (as is her house). But she expects to be without power for a week and is relying on limited cell service at the local firehall. Another friend, a native Minnesotan, lost his car and may lose his home in Hendersonville after a creek swelled, flooding his garage (with four feet of water) and house (30 inches of floodwaters). A foundation wall “blew out” of his home. He is currently staying with family in Florida.
So, yes, even though the lack of rain and abnormally warm weather in Minnesota concern me, I feel a deeper concern for the folks dealing with loss of homes, businesses, infrastructures and, especially, deaths of loved ones. The devastation is horrific. It will take months, if not years, to recover.
RESPECT FOR WATER & MY POEM
In 2012, the following statement published in the intro to “It’s All One Water”: It is our hope to inspire respect, protection, preservation and awe in honor of water, our most precious of Natural Resources. How one views water right now depends on where they live. But I think we can all agree that water is “our most precious of Natural Resources.”
Autumn leaves in the Cannon River, Cannon River Wilderness Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2021)
In which Autumn searches for Water
Water. The wayward word rises in a faint rasp,
barely a whisper above the drone of buzzing bees
weaving among glorious goldenrods.
I strain to hear as Autumn swishes through tall swaying grass,
strides toward the pond, yearning to quench her thirst
in this season when Sky has remained mostly silent.
But she finds there, at the pond site, the absence of Water,
only thin reeds of cattails and defiant weeds in cracked soil,
deep varicose veins crisscrossing Earth.
She pauses, squats low to the parched ground and murmurs
of an incessant chorus of frogs in the spring,
of Water which once nourished this marshland.
Autumn heaves herself up, considers her options
in a brittle landscape too early withered by lack of rain.
Defeat marks her face. Her shoulders slump. She trudges away, in search of Water.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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