Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Sunflower field offers a quiet place to grieve August 10, 2023

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The sunflowers at their prime on July 31. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

IN THE GOLDEN HOUR before sunset on the last day of July, I grabbed my 35 mm Canon camera and headed with Randy to a field of sunflowers on Faribault’s east side. The 5-acre site, just off Division Street East behind Pleasant View Estates, is not an agri-tourism draw, but rather a place of peace, beauty and solace. A place to remember, to grieve.

Signage at the sunflower field defines its intention. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

The nonprofit Infants Remembered in Silence created this flower-filled field with the help of donated land, volunteer planting, caretaking and more. IRIS, as the local organization is known, aims to support parents, family, friends, and professionals following the loss of a child in early pregnancy, from stillbirth, and other infant and early childhood deaths, no matter the cause.

A path winds through the field of mini sunflowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Walking the mowed paths curving through the hilly land proved emotional and moving for me. While I have not lost an infant or child (I nearly miscarried with my second pregnancy), my husband has lost siblings to stillbirth and miscarriage as have others in my circle. Most recently, my niece delivered her third son way too early in pregnancy for baby Hunter to survive. It was heartbreaking for Lindsey and Brent, their parents and those of us who love them. Likewise, 42 years ago my Uncle John and Aunt Sue grieved the death of their stillborn son, Luke. I thought of Luke and Hunter and baby Cheyenne, born too early to friends Bill and Geri decades ago. There’s much loss represented in the IRIS Sunflower Garden.

Visitors pen messages and names of infants and children on a memorial whiteboard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I will share more in a future post. More photos and observations and thoughts. Because I am dealing with sensory overload issues that leave me symptomatic and not feeling at all well if I’m on a screen for too long, I have to wait until I’m having a good day, good enough to visually tolerate additional photo processing and writing a longer post. It is the reason I am blogging only minimally. I am focusing on my health.

Scattered throughout the field are spaces like this to pause, reflect, grieve. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

But today I needed to alert you to the IRIS Sunflower Garden before the blooms are dried, the field only a memory of the beautiful space it was while in full, glorious bloom 11 days ago.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Embracing the magic of fairy gardens August 2, 2023

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A sign marks the Fairy Garden at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

DECIDEDLY MAGICAL. Those words describe my reaction to fairy gardens, mini scenes created with small scale fairies, gnomes, animals and more in an unexpected spot within a flower garden.

A ground level view of gnomes’ rocky woodland home in the gardens of Susan and Dale Kulsrud, featured in a 2014 garden tour. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2014)

I saw my first fairy gardens during the Northfield Garden Club 2014 Garden Tour and have loved them ever since.

A unicorn-hugging fairy in the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Maybe it’s the kid in me or perhaps the creative in me that appreciates these delightful scenes that transport me from reality into a storybook world. We all need to escape the chaos of life occasionally, even if but for a few minutes. Fairy gardens do just that for me.

Love depicted in a bridal couple in the master gardeners’ garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

It’s OK to embrace the child within us, to imagine living in an enchanting place where goodness and kindness and love prevail and everyone gets along. I believe those truths when I spot a fairy garden in the tranquility of a flower garden.

An overview of a section of the master gardeners’ garden in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
A variety of birds can be seen at the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Water bubbles from a stump water feature inside the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Recently I discovered a new fairy garden at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens located on the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault. This garden had already been a favorite spot to visit, to walk among the flowers and other plants, to observe butterflies and birds, and to watch water spilling from a water feature inside a pond.

Reflecting the cultural diversity of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

A volunteer working there on the day I stopped mentioned that the fairy garden is especially popular with kids, who often move the figurines. I love that—envisioning children playing with the mini people and animals, rearranging the scene, stories spinning through their heads. Imaginative play is something we should all engage in, even as adults. We’re never too old, or too young, for that.

Stones imitate water in this bucolic scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Unlike real life, fairy tales always have happy endings. The prince finds Cinderella. Little Red Riding Hood defeats the Big Bad Wolf. Jack climbs the beanstalk, outsmarts the giant, escapes, and saves the day to live happily ever after. Ah, if only happily ever after was always the ending.

A bunny welcomed in the Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Fairy gardens offer a respite, happiness, if we we choose to pause, bend low, see them. If we choose to believe in their magic.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My message left on a park bench July 24, 2023

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The message I left on a park bench in Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS now is love sweet love…and a whole lot more.

But on this afternoon in Faribault’s Central Park, love centers my thoughts. For no particular reason, only that I want to leave a message upon a park bench. An uplifting message crafted from acorns plucked from the grass.

As I gather the prematurely fallen mini acorns, I realize this task will take a while. So I invite Randy to help. He does.

Soon I have enough, not to form the beginning lyrics by songwriter Hal David from the 1965 song made popular by singer Jackie DeShannon, but to shape the singular word, “love.”

Carefully I position each acorn, quickly learning that if I don’t turn them just right, nudging one next to the other, they will roll off the slanted bench seat. Can’t have love disappearing even before it’s become a reality.

Thirty-one acorns later and I’ve written my word of the day. I am hopeful that someone who needs to read that word will find it and feel encouraged, uplifted, loved. We can all use a little (a whole lot of) love in our lives.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

There’s something rotten in the state of the garage July 20, 2023

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2018 used for illustration only)

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a true story, with some embellishments.

Following a four-hour search Tuesday, a Faribault man discovered the source of a foul odor inside his Willow Street garage—a dead critter tentatively identified as a shrew. The black mole-like creature was found trapped inside the wall behind a large shelving unit.

The discovery came just as the homeowner was about to request assistance from the Southeastern Minnesota Joint Response Team’s cadaver dog. “The stench was oppressive, more toxic than Canadian wildfire smoke,” the man told a local newspaper reporter.

Local animal control officials declined to comment on the situation, citing data privacy laws. However, a department spokesperson stated that property owners are responsible for disposing of dead shrews, mice, moles and other small animals inside buildings and in their yards when there is no risk to the public.

The homeowner, who wished to remain anonymous, removed the decomposing shrew, doused the deadly scene with bleach, then flung his garage doors wide open. He also used a box fan to circulate the air. “Even after many hours, the place still stunk,” he said. “And my garage is a mess. I had to move everything and crawl on my hands and knees trying to find the dead thing.” Bottle flies eventually helped him pinpoint the location.

“I never want to go through this again,” the man said Wednesday morning as he moved shelves and other items in his garage back in to place. “It’s not like I just have a lawnmower, snowblower, bikes and yard tools. This is a working man’s garage.”

TELL ME: Do you have a similar totally true or embellished true story?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Delighting in Nature’s summer glory July 19, 2023

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An unopened dusky milkweed brings a soft color into the prairie landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

MID-SUMMER, AND THE MINNESOTA landscape is awash in color, despite the drought.

Walk the prairie or the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

This is the season to get outdoors and explore. Walk the land. Through woods or across prairie. Around a city block or park or public garden. Along a river, upon a beach. Delight in the essence of Nature in all her summer glory.

Black-eyed Susan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Flowers flush color.

A butterfly feeds on a milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Patterned butterflies flit, then pause to unfurl proboscis and drink of sweet floral nectar.

Prairie grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Long-stemmed grasses stretch toward the July sky.

A solitary dewdrop on a milkweed leaf. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Wild raspberries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Veins run through the leaves of wild grapes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I tend to notice details, especially with camera in hand. And therein, in the part of the whole, is the beauty we often pass by in our hurried lives. I encourage you to slow your pace so as not to miss a solitary dewdrop, the texture of leaves, the deep purple of a plump wild raspberry.

Bold berries jolt color into the greenery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Moth upon thistle holds its own beauty. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Tall tall grass bends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Notice the veins in bright red berries, the dusky moth among thistles, the way grass heads heavy with grain bend toward the earth.

Unidentified white flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

From the daintiest of white blossoms laddering a stalk to the bold gold of a prairie wildflower, there is much to see, to appreciate, to embrace in these summer days.

A nature-themed memorial at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Fill your eyes, your heart, your spirit, your mind with Nature’s beauty. Ride on the wings of the butterflies. Sway in the wind like blades of grass. Then settle, like a single dewdrop upon a leaf. Quiet. Filled with peace. Calmed in the presence of the land.

NOTE: All photos were taken recently at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Garden fresh peas from the library July 17, 2023

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I FOLDED THE PILE of pea pods into the front of my Minnesota-themed tee, the one with two grain bin graphics. It seemed appropriate for the vegetable gathered from the Friends of Buckham Memorial Library Organic Learning Garden. Harvest of grain. Harvest of vegetables.

In the library window by the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2020)

I hadn’t expected to pick peas when Randy and I stopped at our local library Saturday afternoon en route to the grocery store for meat to grill. But when we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to check out the garden while Randy looked for videos.

To my surprise, I found pea plants heavy with plump pea pods. I felt giddy. Garden fresh peas have always been a favorite. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had them.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I hold fond memories of picking and shelling peas from my childhood garden. I loved running my thumb down the seam of the pod, opening the shell to reveal a row of tiny green orbs. So perfect. And then I slid my thumb down that tidy row, peas dropping one by one into a metal pan. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. There’s a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic process of shelling peas.

Once home, as I shelled those peas carried in my t-shirt to the van, I thought of all those summers back on the farm. I never realized then how lucky I was to eat mostly food grown or raised on our acreage. It was simply what everyone did in rural Minnesota. Planted a garden. Raised beef cattle, pigs and/or chickens.

That evening as we sat down to a grilled pork chop supper (not dinner) with sides of potatoes and peas, I dipped my spoon into those fresh peas covered with butter. I tasted the sun and sky and earth. But mostly, I tasted memories. Garden memories.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An encouraging message meant for me July 14, 2023

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A found message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

CALL IT SERENDIPITY, coincidence, even divine intervention. But when I spotted a white stone in a flowerbed at Faribault’s Central Park recently, then flipped the stone to read the words, have faith, I felt with certainty this message was meant for me.

I needed these encouraging words. It’s been a long past several months as I deal with ongoing challenging health issues that sometimes leave me feeling hopeless and in tears. It’s a lot, these layered diagnoses of vestibular neuronitis, Menerie’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy. When symptoms flare, which is often, I wonder if I will ever be myself again. And every time a new symptom arises, I wonder why my body is seemingly under siege. Definitive answers and solutions feel elusive.

Yet, if I reflect on this journey, I can see improvements in balance and my ability to handle sensory input. I attribute those to 3.5 months of vestibular rehab therapy and the prayers of many. Have faith. Those two words are powerful, filled with hope. Hope for better days, better health, a return to life as I once lived it.

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THANK YOU to you, my blog readers, for your gifts, cards, prayers and words of encouragement. Every caring word and act of kindness uplifts me and makes me feel, oh, so loved. I am grateful for your support, care and concern.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Looking for Lucy July 11, 2023

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This sculpture of Lucy Van Pelt in Faribault is titled “Land O’Lucy.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

SHE’S OUTSPOKEN. Loud. Sometimes bossy. Opinionated. Strong. And, in her own unique way, lovable. She is Lucy Van Pelt of the Peanuts cartoon strip.

Lucy stands outside the east wing entry to Noyes Hall at MSAD. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Lucy and the other characters created by Charles Schulz represent diverse personalities. They are some of us. They are all of us. And that is perhaps what makes this comic strip so endearing, so relatable.

Agricultural-themed “Land O’Lucy” features a farm site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

In Minnesota, especially, we hold a deep fondness for the Peanuts’ characters. Cartoonist Schulz was born in Minneapolis, raised in St. Paul, moved to Colorado, back to Minnesota, and then eventually to California in 1958 with his wife and their five children. As a high school student, he studied art through a correspondence course at the Art Instruction Schools in Minneapolis and later taught there. His Peanuts cartoon debuted in October 1950 and would eventually include some 70 characters, their stories, trials, triumphs.

Pastured Holsteins detail the rural theme. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

St. Paul honors their native son with bronze sculptures of Peanuts at Landmark Plaza in the heart of the capital city. While I’ve never seen that art, I’ve seen art from an earlier endeavor, “Peanuts on Parade.” After Schulz died in 2000, St. Paul undertook the five-year parade project beginning with Snoopy fiberglass statues painted by artists and then auctioned to fund scholarships for artists and cartoonists and to finance the bronze statues. In subsequent years, “Peanuts on Parade” featured Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus, and, finally, Snoopy and Woodstock.

“Land O’Lucy” stands outside the east wing of Noyes Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

It is a statue of Lucy which found its way into my community, landing at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf. “Land O’Lucy” now stands in a visible spot on campus, moved during a recent construction project from an obscure location outside Quinn Hall to the front of Noyes Hall East Wing. She’s become my silent, if Lucy can be silent, cheerleader as I walk the deaf school campus doing my vestibular rehab therapy exercises. I like to think that Lucy is encouraging me, just as she is encouraging the young deaf and hard of hearing students who attend this specialized residential school. Lucy symbolizes strength with her nothing’s-going-to-stop-me attitude. We can all use a bit of that empowering approach to life’s challenges.

Informational signage at the base of Lucy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

This particular statue from the 2002 “Looking for Lucy, Peanuts on Parade” project was painted by Dubuque, Iowa, artist Adam Eikamp with Land O’Lakes Inc. the sponsoring company. The dairy plant in Faribault has since closed. But its support of this public art remains forever imprinted in informational signage at the fiberglass statue’s base.

Artwork shows disking the field in preparation for spring planting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

The agricultural theme of the MSAD Lucy is fitting. Our area of southern Minnesota is a strong agricultural region. The paintings on the statue reflect that with fields, barn, farmhouse, cows and chickens. Lucy banners rural. She is among 105 five-foot tall Lucys painted as part of “Looking for Lucy.”

Extroverted “Land O’Lucy” outside Noyes Hall east wing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

If you’re looking for this Lucy, travel to MSAD on Faribault’s east side. You can’t miss the domed Noyes Hall, on the National Register of Historic Places and among many beautiful historic limestone buildings on campus. She stands outside Noyes’ east wing, welcoming students and others, arms flung wide. Typical Lucy with body language that reveals her extroverted personality, her loud, strong and encouraging voice.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A July Fourth eagle in Faribault July 4, 2023

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Juvenile eagle atop a Suburban parked at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf, Faribault. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

IT IS A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM. The bald eagle. And on this Fourth of July morning, Randy and I watched a juvenile eagle for some 20 minutes at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf in Faribault.

Bird whisperer Randy first spotted the large bird across the green atop a Suburban parked in a row of seven vehicles next to Mott Hall. From that distance, its identity was indistinguishable. We only knew that this was a large bird of prey.

We headed west, aiming to get a closer look while also keeping our distance. On the lawn outside Pollard Hall, just across the street from the bird’s vehicle hang-out, we watched for some 20 minutes.

Randy snapped photos with his phone. I’d left my Canon camera at home as this was simply supposed to be a walk around campus and a place to do my physical therapy exercises. Not a photo opp.

We studied, considered, debated. Hawk? Or juvenile eagle? In the end, based on shape, coloring, screeching voice and clumsiness, we decided that this was a juvenile eagle. It showed no fear of us while it flew down the row of vehicles onto the roofs of five mini vans and two Suburbans. When it reached the last vehicle, the Suburban nearest us, we crossed the street for a closer look. Randy snapped more pictures.

Eventually, the eagle took flight behind Mott Hall toward the woods. But then Randy would soon spot it again, this time in a tree with many dead branches. The eagle perched there, eating its late breakfast. A squirrel. I refused to look. I understand this is the natural world, but I’d rather not watch.

What started as just a routine walk on Faribault’s east side became so much more. An opportunity to observe America’s symbol of freedom up close on the Fourth of July.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Quite the ride June 28, 2023

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This battery-powered T-Rex was my son’s toy. It roared, turned its head, moved its arms and flashed its red eyes. My grandkids were terrified of it at one time. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

IF YOU HAD JUST DISEMBARKED a roller coaster only to see a T-Rex chomping up the tracks and roaring towards you, would you trust that you would survive?

So what does this have to do with anything relevant to today and, well, to me? Lots.

Last week my vestibular rehab therapist changed things up a bit. He led me from our usual private meeting room down the hall to a more spacious room with a large screen TV, a table, chairs, toys, a dollhouse and some type of exercise equipment I couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I get to play,” I exclaimed to Ryan.

WE’RE GOING TO DO WHAT?

He had other things in mind. “You’re going to ride a roller coaster,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief and then with fear as he pulled out a virtual reality headset.

“I don’t like roller coasters,” I stated. That is true. The last one I rode was nearly 50 years ago. The Woody at Arnold’s Park in Spencer, Iowa. They called it The Woody back then for a reason. Built in 1930, this is the 13th oldest wooden roller coaster in the world. And this amusement ride was, for me, absolutely terrifying as the cars clacked up and down and around the tracks.

I also have minimal exposure to VR, having tried my son’s headset once and experiencing great difficultly in navigating anything. Simply being in a virtual world proved uncomfortable and disorienting.

So when Ryan mentioned roller coaster and VR in the same sentence, I felt my angst rise. But I recognized that he was serious and that this was just one more effort to retrain my brain by exposing me to motion and to noise in an attempt to manage symptoms resulting from vestibular neuritis, Meniere’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy.

REMIND ME, WHICH BUTTONS DO I PUSH?

Alright then. Ryan set up the computer program, tightened the headset on my head, then handed me the controls, instructing me on which buttons to push. He told me to point the laser at the triangle to start the ride. I couldn’t even manage that as my hands shook. I failed at multiple attempts to use the hand controls, so eventually my patient PT took over. Young people can manage tech stuff far better than aging Baby Boomers like me.

Soon I was on the dreaded roller coaster, riding up and down and all around while noise roared. It was a lot of visual and auditory stimuli as intended. Curves and the roar of a waterfall proved the most challenging. Almost immediately I asked to sit. But when I grew more comfortable, Ryan had me standing with my hand touching the back of a chair to help me feel grounded. I took multiple breaks.

OH, NO, THERE’S MORE!

When I thought a roller coaster ride was surprise enough, yet more awaited me. I soon noticed dinosaurs lurking in the background. Then a Tyrannosaurus separated from the herd and began chomping the track, moving at a ferocious pace directly towards me.

“My granddaughter would love this,” I said in the midst of all that chaos, then corrected myself. “Well, maybe not.” Isabelle, 7, loves dinosaurs but even this teeth-baring meat eater might scare her.

In the end, I survived. Both the T-Rex and the roller coaster. Ryan was pleased with my ability to mostly handle the stimuli. Now I wonder what he has planned for physical therapy tomorrow?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling