(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I FOLDED THE PILE of pea pods into the front of my Minnesota-themed tee, the one with two grain bin graphics. It seemed appropriate for the vegetable gathered from the Friends of Buckham Memorial Library Organic Learning Garden. Harvest of grain. Harvest of vegetables.
In the library window by the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2020)
I hadn’t expected to pick peas when Randy and I stopped at our local library Saturday afternoon en route to the grocery store for meat to grill. But when we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to check out the garden while Randy looked for videos.
To my surprise, I found pea plants heavy with plump pea pods. I felt giddy. Garden fresh peas have always been a favorite. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had them.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I hold fond memories of picking and shelling peas from my childhood garden. I loved running my thumb down the seam of the pod, opening the shell to reveal a row of tiny green orbs. So perfect. And then I slid my thumb down that tidy row, peas dropping one by one into a metal pan. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. There’s a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic process of shelling peas.
Once home, as I shelled those peas carried in my t-shirt to the van, I thought of all those summers back on the farm. I never realized then how lucky I was to eat mostly food grown or raised on our acreage. It was simply what everyone did in rural Minnesota. Planted a garden. Raised beef cattle, pigs and/or chickens.
That evening as we sat down to a grilled pork chop supper (not dinner) with sides of potatoes and peas, I dipped my spoon into those fresh peas covered with butter. I tasted the sun and sky and earth. But mostly, I tasted memories. Garden memories.
A found message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
CALL IT SERENDIPITY, coincidence, even divine intervention. But when I spotted a white stone in a flowerbed at Faribault’s Central Park recently, then flipped the stone to read the words, have faith, I felt with certainty this message was meant for me.
I needed these encouraging words. It’s been a long past several months as I deal with ongoing challenging health issues that sometimes leave me feeling hopeless and in tears. It’s a lot, these layered diagnoses of vestibular neuronitis, Menerie’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy. When symptoms flare, which is often, I wonder if I will ever be myself again. And every time a new symptom arises, I wonder why my body is seemingly under siege. Definitive answers and solutions feel elusive.
Yet, if I reflect on this journey, I can see improvements in balance and my ability to handle sensory input. I attribute those to 3.5 months of vestibular rehab therapy and the prayers of many. Have faith. Those two words are powerful, filled with hope. Hope for better days, better health, a return to life as I once lived it.
#
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.
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.
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.
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?
At the intersection of Minnesota State Highway 21 and Seventh Street in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
LOOK UP THE WORD “big” in my 2003 Webster’s New World Thesaurus (which really isn’t all that new), and I find the word “huge.” I am not surprised. These are synonyms, something the average person would likely understand.
But apparently not everyone recognizes the sameness. Like the person who recently posted a BIG HUGE SALE sign at a busy Faribault intersection.
Writer and English minor that I am, I noted the message redundancy. Then I took a photo through the windshield from the right passenger side of our 2005 Dodge Caravan (which is nearly as old as my thesaurus).
If anything, the sign creator accomplished his/her objective and that was to get passersby to take notice. I hope the sale was a BIG HUGE success.
Hy-Vee in Faribault grilled pork burgers outside its patio area on Thursday with a tractor parked nearby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
I LUNCHED YESTERDAY with a guy from northern Rice County who farms and runs an auto body repair shop. The shop is Andy’s primary business with crop farming secondary. He rents out some of his acreage, tending only his alfalfa field. He has plenty of customers for his hay. Mostly people with horses and dairy goats, he said.
This massive tractor provided photo ops outside Faribault’s Hy-Vee grocery store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Before Thursday, I’d never met Andy. But I asked if Randy and I could join him at a patio table outside Faribault’s Hy-Vee. The grocer was serving free pork burgers, chips and bottled water as part of its “Feed the Farmers that Feed America” event. The Iowa-based supermarket chain is working with Feeding America-affiliated food banks to help end hunger. A donation jar was filling with bills.
A farm site north of Faribault, photographed from Interstate 35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2023)
Events like this remind me just how important agriculture is to all of us. Without farmers, we’d be hard-pressed to feed ourselves. Or at least I would since I don’t have a garden or animals or anything except two broccoli plants started from seed by my 4-year-old grandson.
A tractor waits at a stoplight aside other traffic on busy Minnesota State Highway 21, just off Interstate 35 in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Events like this remind me also that agriculture is an important part of my community. Farm fields surround Faribault. Tractors rumble through town, sometimes past my house.
Parked at the Hy-Vee event, a corn (and beer) themed ATV. Guests enjoy free pork burgers on the patio. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Although I was raised on a crop and dairy farm, I don’t always consider how agriculture impacts us in our daily lives. Without farmers working the land, tending crops, the shelves at HyVee and other grocery stores would be empty. Farmers’ markets wouldn’t exist. And I’d be really hungry because, as much as I like broccoli, that’s not enough to quell my hunger.
Sign on the Oak Ridge Cemetery limestone crypt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
THEY ARE PLACES of sorrow, of history, of art, of beauty. Of stories, too. They are cemeteries.
Trees fill the historic Oak Ridge Cemetery in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Decades ago, as a child, I feared cemeteries, thinking about the bodies buried in caskets beneath the ground. The unexpected death of my paternal grandfather when I was not quite eight shaped my thoughts then of graveyards. But my thinking and perspectives changed as I aged until I felt comfortable walking in a cemetery. I had accepted death.
The natural beauty of Oak Ridge, especially the oaks, is one of the things I most appreciate. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
An informational sign about Levi Nutting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
It’s Faribault’s first cemetery, incorporated in 1857, five years after the town was founded. The death of his 26-year-old wife, Mary, on Christmas Day 1856 prompted Levi Nutting to lead founding of an official cemetery. Nutting was a man of prominence. As an early area settler, he helped shape his community, serving as mayor and Rice County commissioner. Nutting also held several state government offices, including that of a senator.
Nutting family grave markers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Levi and many other Nuttings lie buried beneath the soil at Oak Ridge among the oaks and spruce and maple. This place feels like a hilltop island of peacefulness. Not that it’s quiet here. But a sense of calm and serenity in this spot of remarkable natural beauty prevails.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
History also infuses Oak Ridge, not only in names on gravestones, but also on informational plaques scattered throughout the grounds.
The burial spot of a Civil War veteran, flagged for Memorial Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Civil War veteran Michael Cook’s marker details his death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
There are a whole lot of long ago dates inscribed in stone. The first known burial here was in 1850, before cemetery incorporation. Men who fought in the Civil and Spanish American Wars lie here. So do legislators, business leaders, farmers, paupers, immigrants and more, according to the Oak Ridge website.
Loving words on a husband and wife’s tombstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
“IN THEIR DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED” reads the message on the headstone of Rodney A. Mott and Mary Ripley Mott.
Markers like this can be purchased for unmarked graves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Hannah Jane Rockwell’s marker, installed through Oak Ridge’s Sponsor a Marker for an Unmarked Grave Program, simply lists her name, birth and death dates, and then the loving words, “Mother to 10.”
A message written in a notebook at Jeremy’s grave. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Jeremy J. Weber’s black tombstone, still shiny with newness, is surrounded by expressions of recent grief. The 34-year-old father of three died in 2021. A waterproof case includes a notebook for messages and memories. Words written therein are loving, heartbreaking.
Beautiful urn art graces a grave. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Grief is undeniably here. I read that, see that, feel that. But I also feel the love. These were individuals with families who loved them and whom they loved. These were individuals who were valued personally and/or professionally. They were, above all, human beings who held a special place on this earth.
Fitting for Oak Ridge, oak leaves on a tombstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Cemeteries reveal all of this, if only we take the time to walk among the tombstones, aged and new. Inscriptions, art, names, dates, memorabilia and flowers placed graveside all tell stories. That is the beauty within the boundaries of a cemetery like Oak Ridge, which rises high above a city founded 171 years ago, the place where Levi Nutting moved with his family in 1855, a year later his young wife dead.
The historic limestone pumphouse sits atop the hill, in the heart of the cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
This map shows a section of Oak Ridge’s lay-out. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
FYI: Oak Ridge accepts donations and welcomes volunteers to help with cemetery upkeep. Burial plots are for sale. And markers may be purchased for unmarked graves.
Missing tortoise poster. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
HOW DO YOU LOSE a tortoise? I don’t have the answer and didn’t call to ask. But on Faribault’s east side, Mary the tortoise has gone missing.
I spotted a sign recently for the disappearing reptile on the corner of Ravine Street and Sixth Avenue Northeast. I’ve seen many lost dog and cat posters in Faribault. But a tortoise? Never.
Of course, I instantly thought of the fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” in which the slow-moving but determined tortoise wins the race against the confident, boastful rabbit. While the hare naps, the tortoise keeps going. In the end, the loser realizes that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have been so mocking of the tortoise. It’s a good lesson for anyone. It’s OK to be confident, but not at the expense of putting down others.
Back to tortoises. Many years ago, one showed up on our driveway on a summer afternoon. What a surprise. No one expects an errant tortoise on their property. A cat or dog, yes. But an over-sized reptile, no.
My brave brave second daughter scooped that tortoise up, despite my motherly warning not to do so (hey, I didn’t know how the reptile would react), and carried it back home across busy Willow Street. How our neighbor’s tortoise escaped and then safely crossed the street still baffles me.
Just like Mary. What happened to her? And where, oh where, has that not-so-little tortoise gone?
Damage done to the boulevard. Our bedroom was in the direct path of an errant vehicle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
THE SQUEAL OF TIRES, followed by thuds, disrupted our almost-asleep state of being Tuesday evening. “What was that?” I asked Randy. I was more curious than alarmed.
We live along a busy street in Faribault. Odd and loud noises are not uncommon. But, on a week night at 11 pm, this did seem out of the ordinary. Randy waited a bit, then rolled out of bed to check. Curiosity will always get you. He saw nothing except a torn-up patch of boulevard grass outside our bedroom window. No vehicle in sight.
I asked if we should call the police. “What would they do?” Randy asked. He was right. We had nothing to report except the sounds and the displaced patch of lawn. The vehicle was long gone.
Black marks on the pavement show how the vehicle veered out of the traffic lane toward and over the curb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Morning shed more light on the situation. Black tire tracks curved toward the curb next to the boulevard. It is likely accurate to assume that a driver was going too fast down Tower Place (the hilly side street by our corner lot) and lost control while turning onto Willow Street. Oops. Should have slowed down and stopped at the bottom of the hill. We’re just thankful he/she did not continue on, plowing into our bedroom.
If I was a forensic investigator, I could determine the make and model of the vehicle based on this part left behind on the damaged lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
This is not the first time we’ve dealt with vehicle-related issues on our property. A tire once fell off a car and rolled down the hill, slamming into the side of our house, just missing the gas meter and pipe. Other times vehicles have jumped the curb on icy streets. One landed half-way across our side yard, taking out the stop sign on the way.
Lawn litter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
While outside examining the lawn damage and tire tracks Wednesday morning, I happened upon a rectangular box tossed on the grass near the stop sign. It was an empty box once containing 2.0 grams of Sunset Sherbert hybrid distillate disposable vape. Pluto Labs, THE FUTURE OF CANNABIS, LIVE RESIN, the box read. I don’t pretend to know much about cannabis, except that the Minnesota legislature recently approved the use of recreational marijuana. But that doesn’t take effect until August 1.
Then I flipped the box to read that this was a SCHEDULED 1 CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE… THE INTOXICATING EFFECTS OF THIS PRODUCT MAY BE DELAYED UP TO TWO HOURS. THIS PRODUCT MAY IMPAIR THE ABILITY TO DRIVE OR OPERATE MACHINERY, PLEASE USE EXTREME CAUTION.
It made me wonder. Did the out-of-control driver toss this empty box from his/her vehicle just before rounding the corner and then slamming into and jumping the curb onto our lawn? The dots seem to connect.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments