Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A look back, a look ahead: How school shapes us, expands our world September 6, 2023

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A bus follows a back country road near Morgan in southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2018)

SHE WANTS TO SAVE the earth. It’s a lofty and noble goal for my granddaughter, who started second grade on Tuesday. Each year, on the first day of school, her mom documents basics about Isabelle on a small chalkboard. That includes a response to “What I want to be when I grow up.” This year Izzy aims to be an environmentalist. As a first grader, her professional goal was becoming a game designer. And on the first day of kindergarten, she wanted to own a toy store and also be a mom.

It’s interesting how Izzy’s interests evolve as she ages, as she grows her world and knowledge and connections with others. The possibilities are endless for her generation. I hold such hope in these young people, just beginning their formal educations.

And I hold hope, too, when I see a photo of Izzy and three neighborhood friends waiting at their urban bus stop. “Smart, Brave, Beautiful” banners Bethel’s tee. What a reaffirming message. For all of them. And how reaffirming that they are of differing ethnicity, their skin tones varied and, indeed, beautiful.

My elementary school, circa 1960s, located in Vesta in Redwood County. The school closed decades ago. (Photographer unknown; photo sourced from my personal photo album)

Sixty years have passed since I was a second grader in a small southwestern Minnesota elementary school, where my paternal grandfather served on the school board. My classmates and I were mostly farm kids, all white. We wrote in “Big Chief” lined tablets which today would not, should not, fly. Attitudes differed in the 1960s. Words like diversity, respect and environmentalist were not part of our everyday vocabulary.

A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2013)

But words, overall, held my interest all those decades ago. I have Mrs. Kotval to thank for sparking my love of words, of reading, and eventually of writing. Each day after lunch, she read to her third and fourth graders from “The Little House” and other chapter books. Through the writing of Laura Ingalls Wilder, who lived many years earlier in nearby Walnut Grove, I began to appreciate the nuances of the prairie. And I learned the importance of descriptive, detailed writing. Wilder engaged all of her senses to describe the prairie and life thereon in her series of wildly popular books. With her love of the natural world, this writer unknowingly documented the environment for me, my children and for my second grade granddaughter, today an aspiring environmentalist.

Early on, I aspired to be an elementary school teacher. But that changed as I grew my world, my knowledge, my connections. Words focused my passion. Unlike most of my elementary school classmates, I loved penmanship—letters and words flowing in script across the pages of my penmanship book. I loved spelling. I loved reading, even in a school and town without a library and thus with limited access to books. And by high school, that love of words expanded to writing.

Fifth and sixth graders at Vesta Elementary School in the late 1960s. I’m in the back row, far right, next to the windows. (Photographer unknown; photo sourced from my personal photo album)

I want to pause here and stress the importance of passionate teachers in fostering students’ interests. From Mrs. Kotval reading to her students after lunch to junior high English teacher Mrs. Sales teaching me all the parts of grammar to high school teacher Mr. Skogen requiring students to keep journals, their influence on me and my eventual career was profound. I would go on to earn a college degree in mass communications, leading to a career as a journalist, writer, poet and photographer.

That brings me full circle back to Laura Ingalls Wilder, who early on influenced my detail-rich writing and photographic styles. In 2017, I became professionally connected to the author via “The World of Laura Ingalls Wilder—The Frontier Landscapes That Inspired The Little House Books.” Author Marta McDowell chose three of my photos (including one of prairie grasses at sunset) to illustrate her 396-page book documenting Wilder’s life and relationship to her environment. Perhaps some day my granddaughter will open the pages of McDowell’s book and find the photos taken by her grandmother. Whether Isabelle becomes an environmentalist or something vastly different, I expect she will always care about the earth and her role in saving it.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Weekly Phone Call May 11, 2023

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My sweet mom, featured on the Parkview Facebook page, Mother’s Day 2020. (Photo credit: Parkview Senior Living)

IN EVERYTHING I WRITE, truth rests. In creative nonfiction, more than any other genre, truth writes the story. In poetry and fiction, life experiences, observations and emotions weave into poems and stories. Not necessarily the full truth, but based on reality. The adage “write what you know” rings true for me.

In 2017, I wrote a short story, “The Weekly Phone Call,” and entered it in the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc annual competition. That work of creative nonfiction along with two poems, two fictional short stories and another piece of creative nonfiction were chosen for publication in Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26. It marked my most successful year with TS, an annual anthology featuring work by Minnesota writers or those with a connection to Minnesota.

Five of my works (poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction) published in Fine Lines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

The book title, Fine Lines fits my selected entry, a story about the Sunday evening phone calls I made to my mom. Every. Week. I looked forward to them, as did Mom. My short story is one of raw emotions, of grief and pain. And today, days before Mother’s Day, seems an appropriate time to share this piece of my writing.

I hope it sparks an understanding that simple connections linking us to those we love are to be valued. When Mom could no longer hold or talk on a phone in the years before her January 2022 death, I felt a deep loss. I missed her voice. I missed her stories. I missed sharing my life with her. And today, I miss her, as I try to recall her voice, the words she spoke, yet always remembering the love we shared.

Parkview Senior Living in Belview, where my mom lived for many years. While 120 miles separated us, Mom and I remained connected via our weekly calls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The Weekly Phone Call

It’s 6:30 p.m. on Sunday when I punch the green phone icon.

“Hello, Arlene speaking,” she answers, the indiscernible dialogue of a television blaring in the background.

“Hi, this is Audrey,” I say, then wait while she turns off her TV. “How are you doing?”

Her answer never deviates. She is tired and blames the weather. Already sadness threads through my thoughts. Inside the sheltered walls of a care center, she can’t feel the bite of a winter prairie wind, the drench of rainfall, the smothering humidity of a July afternoon. She feels only artificial heat and cold while sequestered in her over-sized dorm style room.

My mind drifts as Mom laments an in-house obsession with BINGO, recounts an escape attempt by a friend—big and exciting news—and complains of failed jets in the whirlpool tub. I listen, insert appropriate responses, and await the usual repetition of information.

When she repeats herself, I say nothing. There is no point. My love prevails in silence. But inside, my anger rises at her declining memory. I want the mom who never forgot a birthday, who remembered what she ate for lunch, who knew names. I miss her undeniably kind and positive spirit. I am grieving.

But I tell her none of this. Instead, I end our conversation with “I love you” and a promise to call her next Sunday, at 6:30 p.m.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Original 2017 publication credit: Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26

 

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

 

Alright, winter, time to leave Minnesota as spring arrives March 20, 2023

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Trees bud at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault, in late May 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

TODAY, THE FIRST DAY of spring, hope springs that this long winter of too much snow will soon exit Minnesota. Most Minnesotans, including me, are weary of days marked by new snowfall that has accumulated, pushing this 2022-2023 winter season into top 10 records in our state.

Asparagus, one of my favorite spring vegetables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But now, with the official start of a new season on March 20—the season of new life, the season of planting and budding and greening—I feel a mental shift. Psychologically, my mind can envision a landscape shifting from colorless monochrome to vivid greens. I can feel the warmth of warmer days yet to come. I can smell the scent of dirt released, breaking from winter’s grip. I can hear the singsong chatter of returning birds. I can taste asparagus spears snapped from the soil.

A bud beginning to open in late April 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2020)

All of this is yet to come. I understand that. A date on a calendar doesn’t mean spring in Minnesota. That season is realistically weeks away. April can still bring inches of snow.

Crocuses, always the first flower of spring in my flowerbeds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

But we are edging toward spring. I feel that in temps sometimes reaching just past 40 degrees. I feel it in the warmth of the sun, shining brighter, bolder, longer. I see dwindling snow packs and exposed patches of grass. I hear spring in vehicles splashing through puddles rather than crunching across snow. I see spring, too, in the endless potholes pocking roadways.

The first line in my winning poem, posted roadside in 2011. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)

On this first day of spring, I am reminded of a poem I penned in 2011, a poem which splashed across four billboards along a road just off Interstate 94 in Fergus Falls in west central Minnesota. To this day, publication of that poem remains an especially rewarding experience for me as a poet.

Billboard number two of my spring-themed poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

I submitted the poem to the now-defunct Roadside Poetry Project’s spring competition. Poems changed out seasonally in this Fergus Falls Area College Foundation funded contest. It was a bit of a challenge writing a spring-themed poem, as I recall. Not because of the theme, but rather the rules—four lines only with a 20-character-per-line limit. But, as a writer, it’s good to be challenged.

Line three of my Roadside Poetry Project spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

I suppose you could say the same about Minnesota weather. It’s good to be challenged by an especially snowy winter so we appreciate spring’s arrival even more. Yes, that’s a positive perspective—a way to mentally and psychologically talk myself into enduring perhaps six more weeks of winter in this official season of spring.

The last of four billboards featuring my Roadside Poetry spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

NOTE: I intentionally omitted any pictures showing snow/winter.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota prairie roots revisited, remembered, reflected January 25, 2023

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My “Hope of a Farmer” poem exhibited at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum. The exhibit also includes my poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)

WHEN I RETURNED to my beloved southwestern Minnesota prairie in September, I did so with one primary purpose—to see my poetry showcased in the “Making Lyon County Home” exhibit at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum in Marshall. Any additional attractions—like viewing a public art sculpture outside the local ice arena and a stop at Brau Brothers Brewing—would only enhance the day trip.

Randy Walker’s “Prairie Roots” sculpture defines the entrance outside the Red Baron Arena on Marshall’s east side at 1651 Victory Drive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

My one regret is that Randy and I didn’t stay overnight, allowing more time to explore local sites without feeling rushed. Forty years have passed since I visited Marshall en route to the Black Hills on our honeymoon. The college and county seat town lies 20 miles to the west of my hometown, Vesta in Redwood County, and 140 miles from my current home in Faribault.

A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2013)

This area of Minnesota is the place of my roots. My prairie roots. It is the place of wide open space, expansive skies, small towns and endless acres of cropland.

A prairie sunset photographed from Minnesota State Highway 67 between Redwood Falls and Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The land where I grew up inspired my blog name, Minnesota Prairie Roots. The name fits me as a person and a creative. The sparseness of the prairie taught me to notice details, to fully engage my senses. To appreciate the landscape and people. The vastness of the flat land and the star-flushed night sky and achingly beautiful sunsets. Here I connected to the land—bare feet upon dirt, bike tires crunching gravel, dirt etched into my hands from working the soil. Here I connected to the people—down-to-earth, hardworking, linked to the land.

A favorite children’s picture book about the prairie gifted to me by my friend Kathleen.

For those who are not of prairie stock, the sparse landscape can seem uninteresting, empty, desolate. Even I admit the challenge of “if you’re not from the prairie…” A children’s picture book by that title, written by David Bouchard and illustrated by Henry Ripplinger and published in 1995, speaks to the prairie sun, wind, sky, flatness…grasses.

The tall grasses stretch to the prairie sky. The bent tops of the stems are also meant to resemble hockey sticks given the sculpture’s location outside the ice arena. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Tall grasses are often associated with the prairie. Yet, those grasses were mostly missing from the landscape of my youth as cultivated crops covered the earth. But on our farm site, a sliver of unmown grass grew between granary and grove and gravel driveway, stretching high, stems bending in the wind. That Little House on the Prairie (Walnut Grove is 20 miles from Vesta) space opened summer afternoons to imaginative play. I hold many memories rooted in those tall grasses, in the prairie.

Depending on the time of day and viewing point, the steel grass stems showcase different colors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
The sculpture reflected in an arena window. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
Just another view of the grass stems, emphasizing the orange and yellow hues. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Prairie Roots. That name graces a public art sculpture outside the Red Baron Arena in Marshall. Minneapolis artist Randy Walker was commissioned by the City of Marshall in 2018 to create the sculpture reflecting the prairie landscape. I knew in advance of my September visit that I needed to see this artwork if time allowed. We made time. Walker used 210 painted steel poles to represent tall stems of grass, prairie grass. They are colored in hues of yellow, orange, red and green, reflecting seasonal changes and light.

Prairie grass grows within the sculpture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)

And in between all those steel stems, prairie grass grows, thrives.

A grasshopper clings to a steel grass stem in the “Prairie Roots” sculpture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I even spotted a grasshopper on a steel stalk, taking me back decades to the hoards of grasshoppers that amassed and hopped through that patch of uncut grass on the farm.

Viewing the sculpture toward the field, this perspective shows the meandering course of the Redwood River in the Marshall area on the floor of the gathering space. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Walker’s sculpture holds visual appeal against an expansive backdrop sky and open field (when viewing the art from the arena entrance outward). Via that perspective, I see the enduring strength of the prairie, and the immensity of land and sky, this place of my Minnesota prairie roots.

Please check back for more posts about my day trip back to southwestern Minnesota in September 2022.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on January-June 2022 December 30, 2022

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IN CONSIDERING PHOTOGRAPHIC year-in-review posts, I could have focused on what a challenging year 2022 was for me and my family. It was. Rather, I’m featuring words, words in photos I took and previously published here. Words that hold personal or community value. As a writer and photographer, communication is my work. And my passion. So I scrolled through my photo files to find words photographed from January-May in this, my first-half review of a year I’m eager to leave behind.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2022)

JANUARY

Ask like you care. I strung these four magnetic words together and stuck them to my refrigerator door. They are a reminder to always engage in meaningful and caring conversation. Too often when people ask, “How are you?”, they fail to listen. I am big on listening, really listening. Listening equals caring.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2022)

FEBRUARY

Bridge Square in downtown Northfield offers an outlet for public expression of opinion, often chalked onto the sidewalk. This quote about artists resonates. Creatives have the power to open eyes and ears and hearts to different ideas and perspectives, and therein lies great value.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2022)

MARCH

Among my favorite word finds of 2022 were the signs posted in the windows of Bridge Square Barbers in Northfield. I loved the humor and creativity. The signs prompted me to write a short story, “Barbershop Prompt,” which earned second place in creative nonfiction in The Talking Stick 31 Escapes anthology competition. It pays, literally, to pay attention to words.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

APRIL

A sign bannering Northfield’s celebration of Earth Day represents, in many ways, the strong concern for the environment that prevails across the planet. Such awareness is nothing new; it was big in the 70s when I was a coming-of-age teen. But now the voices seem louder, stronger, bolder and cover additional topics, like climate change. We all ought to care because this Earth is our home. And we each ought to move beyond words to action.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

MAY

May marked 40 years of marriage for Randy and me. We didn’t celebrate in a big way, just quietly. But someone remembered. Someone who anonymously mailed an anniversary card with $20 and a suggestion. I appreciated the thoughtfulness, even the remembering, because too few people remember such special occasions any more. I value greeting cards, the handwritten word and the love they hold.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2022)

JUNE

Words galore imprinted upon buttons pinned to a bulletin board at The Shop on Broadway in Plainview. I discovered the humorous, some Minnesota-themed, multi-message buttons on a day trip to this southeastern Minnesota community.

There’s a whole world of words awaiting discovery. A world that’s filled with so much to experience, delight in, ponder, learn from and more, if only we pause and take it all in.

PLEASE CHECK BACK as my year-in-review continues with July-December 2022.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Expressing my creative voice in “The Talking Stick” October 11, 2022

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I’ve been published in 13 volumes of “The Talking Stick,” most recently In “Volume 31, Escapes.” (Photo by Colton Kemp)

AS A WRITER, getting published adds to the joy of the craft. I write because it’s my passion, one which I want to share.

I laid the latest copy of The Talking Stick atop a page in a Minnesota atlas to represent escape in a sense of place. Reading and writing also provide an escape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

The newest opportunity to share comes via The Talking Stick 31—Escapes, the latest anthology released in September by Park Rapids area-based The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. The Talking Stick, published now for 31 years, features a collection of creative nonfiction, fiction and poetry by Minnesota writers or those with a connection to our state. This year, editors chose 83 poems, 28 creative nonfiction stories and 18 fiction stories for publication from 82 writers. More than 300 submissions came from 140 writers.

The beginning of my story, “Barbershop Prompt.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo October 2022)

I’m delighted to announce that three of my submissions are included in Escapes. My story, “Barbershop Prompt,” won second place and a cash prize in creative nonfiction. “Plans” earned honorable mention in fiction. And my second fictional piece, “Between Sisters,” simply published.

My writing has published in all 13 of these “The Talking Stick” volumes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

To have my work selected and honored by peers is, for me, reaffirming. This marks the 13th year my writing—a total of 13 poems, eight creative nonfiction stories and nine fiction stories—have published in The Talking Stick. I’ve earned seven honorable mentions and two second placings through the years. Every year I’ve entered this competition, my writing has published. That proves personally validating.

When I first ventured into penning fiction, I did so with hesitancy. My journalism education, background and experience rooted me in gathering information and reporting the facts with no bend to fictionalize. I didn’t know I could write fiction until I tried. And I found I rather enjoy this type of writing. It stretches my creativity in a way that traditional factual writing doesn’t. Yet, even when I write fiction, there is some truth within. I weave into my writing (often in subtle ways) that which I know or care about or which has touched me. I expect most fiction writers would say the same.

Partial winning credits in fiction and the judge’s bio. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo October 2022)

My award-winning short story, “Plans,” focuses on abuse within a family. Abuse has not been my personal experience. But it runs rampant in society. “Plans” focuses on abuse from the perspective of Henrietta, or Henri as her father calls her. He wanted a son, not a daughter. I’m not revealing more except to say the story leaves the reader wondering. And that’s exactly as The Talking Stick editors intend. Submission guidelines call for focusing on short forms, on compressed creations which hint of a longer, more complex story. You get that in my 457-word “Plans.”

Here’s, in part, what fiction judge Bonnie West said about my short story:

What a good story. Very clever, but also very poignant and surprising! Thanks for this delightful and entertaining revenge story!

Bridge Square Barbers, the inspiration for my award-winning story. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2022)

I definitely appreciate West’s comment and that of creative nonfiction judge Marge Barrett. She evaluated “Barbershop Prompt,” praising the energy and cleverness of my story. A sign I spotted in the front window of Bridge Square Barbers by Bridge Square in Northfield prompted me to write this. I am an observer, someone who notices details. That often inspires. Like my winning fiction story, this fact-based story leaves the reader wondering, wanting more. The same can be said for “Between Sisters.”

The Talking Stick is an incredible collection of outstanding writing and I’m honored to be included with so much other Minnesota talent. Each year I see familiar names repeated, but then new voices, too. The small editorial team from the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc deserves recognition also for their hard work. This anthology truly is a labor of love. I’m grateful for their appreciation of Minnesota writers and for their dedication to the craft of writing.

FYI: I encourage you to support Minnesota creativity by purchasing a copy of The Talking Stick 31—Escapes by clicking here.

Colton Kemp, a reporter for the Faribault Daily News, wrote a feature on me which published in the Saturday, October 8, edition. I encourage you to read that also by clicking here. I am grateful for Colton sharing my story and for the opportunity to connect with him, another individual passionate about writing.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Lyon County: Prairie-rooted poetry at the museum September 20, 2022

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The sprawling Lyon County Historical Society Museum in the heart of downtown Marshall, across from the post office. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

RECENTLY I TRAVELED back to my native southwestern Minnesota, destination Marshall, 18 miles west of my hometown of Vesta. Specifically, I targeted the Lyon County Historical Society Museum to view the award-winning “Making Lyon County Home” exhibit. Two of my poems, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother” and “Hope of a Farmer,” are featured therein.

Me, photographed next to the panel featuring my poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother.” My one regret is that my mom (pictured in two smaller photo insets) never saw this exhibit in person. She died in January. (Photo by Randy Helbling, September 2022)
To the far left is the panel featuring my poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother.” In the center is my poem, “Hope of a Farmer.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
My poem, “Hope of a Farmer.” That is not my dad in the photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

The exhibit, which won a 2021 Minnesota History Award from the Minnesota Alliance of Local History Museums, opened in January of the same year. Finally, I got to Marshall last week. Up until my visit, I was unaware that two, not just one, of my poems are included. When I read the title “Hope of a Farmer,” I thought to myself, I wrote a poem with that title. And then, as I read, I realized this was my poem.

The second floor exhibit celebrates Lyon County in the award-winning exhibit, “Making Lyon County Home.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Now I’m doubly honored that my rural-themed poetry inspired by my farmer father and farm wife mother were chosen to be part of this outstanding exhibit focusing on the people, places, businesses, communities, activities, events, history and arts of Lyon County.

A clothes pin bag hangs in an exhibit space near my “Ode” poem, quite fitting. Visitors can turn a dial to generate “wind” blowing dish towels on a clothesline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Excerpt from “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother” (click here to read the entire poem):

In the rhythm of your days, you still danced,

but to the beat of farm life—

laundry tangled on the clothesline,

charred burgers jazzed with ketchup,

finances rocked by falling corn and soybean prices.

This panel honors literary and visual artists of the region. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

As I read the “Imagining the Prairie” informational panel, my gratitude to the LCHS staff, volunteers and Museology Museum Services of Minneapolis (lead contractor for the exhibit) grew. I appreciate that an entire panel focuses on the arts: The Lyon County landscape…has inspired painters and poets and artists of all kinds. I’ve long thought that as I see the prairie influence in my writing and photography. Farms, vast prairies, wide skies and tumbling rivers define the landscape of southwestern Minnesota.

Corn rows emerge in a field near Delhi in southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Excerpt from my “Hope of a Farmer” poem (click here to read the entire poem):

I see my father’s work laid out before him—

first seeds dropped into rich black soil,

next, corn rows carefully cultivated,

then fervent prayers for timely rain.

A fitting quote from Bill Holm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

A quote from poet, essayist and musician Bill Holm of nearby Minneota, summarizes well the lens through which we prairie natives view the world and the creative process. The prairie eye looks for distance, clarity, and light…

A grain complex and the Oasis Bar & Grill in Milroy, near Marshall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Holm, who died in 2009, was among southwestern Minnesota’s best-known writers, having penned poetry and multiple books such as his popular The Heart Can Be Filled Anywhere on Earth and Boxelder Bug Variations. His boxelder bug book inspired his hometown to host an annual Boxelder Bug Days, still going strong.

Poetry by Leo Dangel in the ag-focused part of the exhibit. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

To see my poems featured alongside the work of gifted writers like Holm and equally-talented poet Leo Dangel in the “Making Lyon County Home” exhibit was humbling. Dangel, who died in 2016, wrote six collections of poetry. The prairie and rural influence on his work show in the featured poems, “A Farmer Prays,” “A Clear Day,” and “Tornado.”

My poem honoring my mom… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Both men taught English at Southwest Minnesota State University in Marshall, reaffirming their devotion to this rural region and to the craft of writing. The exhibit includes a section on the university, which opened in 1967 within 10 years of my leaving the area to attend college in Mankato. I sometimes wonder how my writing would have evolved had I stayed and studied on the prairie.

A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County, which is right next to Lyon County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

When I returned to Marshall for the first time in 40 years, nothing about the town seemed familiar. Time has a way of changing a place. But when I reached the top floor of the county museum, saw my poems and began to peruse the “home” exhibit, I felt like I was back home. Back home on the prairie, among cornfields and farm sites and grain elevators and all those small towns that dot the landscape. Back home under a wide prairie sky with land stretching beyond my vision. Back home where I understand the people. Back home in the place that influenced my writing as only the prairie can for someone rooted here.

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Please check back for more posts featuring the Lyon County Museum and the area.

The ode honoring my mother initially published in South Dakota State University’s 2017 literary journal, Oakwood.

And the poem about my father was chosen as a “Work of Merit” at the 2014 Northwoods Art & Book Festival in Hackensack.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

About as Americana as it gets, July 4 in North Morristown July 1, 2022

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The popular bluegrass band, Monroe Crossing, performs at 1:30 pm and 4 pm on July 4 in North Morristown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2016)

YOU LIKELY HAVE PLANS for the Fourth of July. But, if you don’t and live in southern Minnesota, I’d suggested attending the North Morristown July 4 celebration. This event is grassroots rural Americana through and through.

The homemade strawberry pie I ordered at the Pie Stand last Fourth of July. All pies are homemade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)

It’s vintage food stands, homemade pie, old tractors packing the parade, music by Minnesota musicians (like Monroe Crossing), handcrafted kiddie rides and games, BINGO, a patriot program, fireworks and so much more.

One of the many vintage food stands which add to the nostalgic charm of this celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)

I direct you (click here) to my most recent photo essay and accompanying copy published this week in the July issue of Southern Minn Scene, a regional arts and entertainment magazine. I create a column, “Through a SoMinn Lens,” for this monthly publication. My latest piece, “North Morristown on July 4, a slice of Americana,” features 24 of my photos in a 3.5-page spread, beginning on page 22 of Scene.

Kids’ activities are to the left, food and beverage stands to the right and the entertainment stage straight ahead. This event is well-attended. Admission is free, but please purchase a button to help cover costs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Perhaps my column will convince those of you who live in Minnesota to attend the Fourth of July celebration in North Morristown, which is not an actual town. This is simply a place in the middle of farm fields, west of Faribault and north of Morristown. The festival grounds sits across from Trinity Lutheran Church and School and next to farm sites and acreage.

The kiddie rides are homemade and vintage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)

I’ve attended many times and love the down-home feel of this celebration, which is also a reunion of sorts for those who grew up in this area (which is not me). I recognize many of you, my readers, come to my blog from afar. So please enjoy North Morristown on the Fourth via my images and words.

My husband enjoys his cheeseburger at the North Morristown Fourth of July celebration in 2016. I make no apologies for the grease-stained fingernails of this hardworking automotive machinist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

Happy Fourth!

TELL ME: How are you celebrating the Fourth of July?

Note: If you have seen my story on newsprint, please view it again online. The paper copy of the magazine has issues with clarity of images, and not just mine. All photos I submitted for publication are sharp, clear and focused, unlike the end printing results.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

This Was 2020, more indie book success June 17, 2022

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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Award-winning This Was 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

AS A LONG-TIME WRITER, I’ve accumulated a lengthy list of publication credits. That’s rewarding. Publication validates me as a writer. But it is knowing people are reading my work which proves especially rewarding.

The beginning of my poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I am thrilled to share that This Was 2020—Minnesotans Write About Pandemics and Social Justice in a Historic Year is the top circulating book across all Indie Author Project library collections in the U.S. and Canada thus far in 2022. My poem, “Funeral During a Pandemic,” is included in This Was 2020, an anthology of 54 poems and essays by 51 Minnesota writers. To earn the number one circulation spot is an achievement worth noting and celebrating.

This is exciting news added to the initial success of the book as the 2021 Minnesota Author Project award winner in the Communities Create category.

A summary and author list from the back cover. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’m not surprised by the book’s success. The collection of stories and poems selected via a competitive process is remarkable—packed with experiences, insights, emotions and more. I feel humbled and honored to be a part of this awarding-winning book featuring the work of talented Minnesota writers.

Paul Lai, formerly with Ramsey County Library, deserves much credit for his hard work on this MN Writes MN Reads project. It’s a mega undertaking to organize a contest open to writers throughout the state and then work through the process to publication. But it doesn’t end there. Lai also organized book readings and kept writers like me informed. I am grateful for his talent, enthusiasm and dedication.

My bio printed in This Was 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

If you haven’t read This Was 2020, I encourage you to do so. The book, Lai says, is available at all 14 library systems in Minnesota. Locally, Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault carries two copies. Writers need readers. And readers need writers. Thank you for reading.

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NOTE: This marks the second time my poetry has been included in a book vying for the Minnesota Author Project, Communities Create Award. In 2020, Legacies: Poetic Living Wills was a finalist for the honor. The book featured my poem, “Life at Forty Degrees,” and the poems of 15 other area poets.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling