One of my favorite winter photos, of a farm site along Interstate 35 north of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
WE MINNESOTANS PRIDE ourselves on our winter hardiness. But this week is testing even the hardiest among us as temps drop into the double digit subzero range. Add the wind and it feels like -30 to -40 degrees outdoors. No wonder extreme cold warnings have been issued for our state. Exposed skin can freeze in minutes. No wonder schools are closing and shifting to e-learning.
A flowering tree, photographed in Faribault in spring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2024)
The bright sunshine fools no one. It’s an illusion of warmth. But the sunshine also reminds me that much warmer days are only months away, that winter isn’t forever, that we will get through this cold spell. We always do.
Photographed at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour garden in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2024)
But as I wait and (mostly) shelter indoors, I find myself drawn to floral photos I took during the spring and summer. Images which visually remind me that the snow will melt, the earth will thaw and warm, seeds will grow, flowers will flourish and these frigid days of winter will be only a memory.
Coneflowers, Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2024)
It’s a bit of a psychological endeavor, this convincing myself that spring will be here “before we know it.” Some days, especially during a cold snap, that seems almost laughable. I admit, my appreciation of winter has diminished as I’ve aged. I’m not alone in feeling that way among my Baby Boomer friends, which is likely the reason many flee to warmer climates for a week, or even months, during winter. I say good for them if that’s a feasible option. It’s not for me.
Dreaming of summer days at Horseshoe Lake in the central Minnesota lakes region. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2023)
So I find ways to cope. Read more. Write more. Walk indoors at the mall instead of outside. And when I do go out, bundle up, clamp a stocking cap on my head without care that it flattens my hair. Eat dark chocolate. Drink tea. Cook soups and chili. Pull out my warmest sweater to layer over a tee and flannel shirt. Connect with friends more. Remember hot summer days Up North at the cabin.
Tulips, one of the first flowers of spring in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)
And never forget that the flowers will unfurl in the sunshine and warmth. Bold, beautiful, vibrant blooms. Lovely. Filling my soul and spirit in a poetically beautiful way that winter can’t.
A Northfield Arts and Culture Commission mural by Brett Whitacre, just off Division Street in Northfield, blooms love. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
IS IT COLD out there?” I asked before rolling out of bed on a recent subzero morning.
In an underpass tunnel along a recreational trail in Northfield, Adam Turman created this summer scene on a mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
“No, it’s summertime,” he answered.
A Montgomery Wings Mural Walk wing on Lanette’s Coffee Shop features flowers watered by Scarlett, who is wearing traditional Czech clothing. That honor’s the Czech heritage of Montgomery, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
That sarcastic response from my husband acted as a writing prompt during this week of cold weather advisories and warnings in Minnesota. We’ve experienced wind chills ranging from -25 to -50 degrees across the state. That’s brutally cold.
Wild geraniums painted by Adam Turman inside an underpass tunnel in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
On the morning I asked Randy about the cold, the 7:17 a.m. air temp registered -12 degrees. With the wind chill, it felt like -29 degrees. That marked the coldest day in six years. I know we are not alone here in Minnesota as frigid air and snow sweep the country, including into the deep South.
Flowers fill the LoveForAll mural by Jordyn Brennanin downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Because I can’t flee to a warmer location, I opted to transport myself from the currently cold, colorless landscape of southern Minnesota to a place of beauty. Without leaving the area. For me, that comes in photos I’ve taken of floral-themed murals blooming throughout the area. In the deep of winter, these paintings hold the hope of warmer days, of sunshine and flowers.
My most recent mural discovery was several months ago on Wild Wood in Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I love when communities embrace this form of public art, because murals are accessible to anyone, anytime. They spark joy, generate interest in place, show community pride. I get excited when I unexpectedly happen upon a mural.
The rare Dwarf Trout Lily grows only in Rice, Steele and Goodhue counties in Minnesota and is depicted here by Adam Turman on an underpass tunnel wall in Northfield.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Floral-themed murals, especially, have a way of uplifting spirits, of celebrating all that is beautiful and lovely. Bold, vivid hues in the deep of January in Minnesota, offer a welcome visual respite.
A close-up of mums and peonies, forefront, in Jordyn Brennan’s LoveForAll mural. Faribault was once renowned for those two flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I can almost imagine meandering through a flower garden, dipping my nose into blossoms, appreciating each scent, each petal, each stem. Oh, the beauty of it all.
Floral-themed wings appropriately placed outside Posy Floral & Gifts in Montgomery as part of the Montgomery Wings Mural Walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
On these frigid days, when I view a drab landscape of muted tones, trees stripped of leaves, snow layering the earth, I delight in sharing the floral murals I’ve photographed. No one ever promised me a rose garden. But these murals hold the promise of spring and of summertime in Minnesota.
An overview of Owatonna’s new streetscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
FILL A DOWNTOWN WITH LUSH greenery and flowers in over-sized planters, add water features, and places to sit, mingle and converse, and you have what I consider an inviting space. That would be downtown Owatonna.
Lush planters front a ghost sign in a repurposed space, like a pocket park, between buildings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
On a recent visit to this southern Minnesota city an hour south of Minneapolis along Interstate 35, I discovered a visually-appealing, pedestrian-friendly business district along revamped North Cedar Avenue. I haven’t walked through downtown Owatonna in awhile, not since a major streetscape project was completed in the fall of 2022. And I must say, the results are simply stunning.
Signage on a building notes past preservation efforts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
As I walked block after block through this National Register Historic District, I focused not so much on the buildings as on the beauty. Trees, shrubs, perennials, annuals, all have been incorporated into the streetscape. Within limestone edged planters. In mammoth free-standing planters. In hanging baskets.
So many inviting details here in bench, barrels and plantings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
The results present a harmonious connection with nature, a garden-like appearance, a feeling of serenity, of wanting to linger. And that’s exactly what business owners and others hope. Stick around. Connect. Shop. Spend money. Enjoy.
An example of businesses located along North Cedar Avenue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Downtown Owatonna offers a good mix of service-oriented businesses, retail shops from shoe store to boutiques to bookshop and more, along with places to dine, drink and even stay overnight. A new Courtyard by Marriott anchors a downtown corner, complete with outdoor sidewalk-side seating and a fire pit.
In a narrow space between buildings, bistro tables await. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Everywhere, I spotted these welcoming spaces. Some are squeezed between buildings—in narrow areas I assume were once alleyways. Planters lush with ferns and flowers soften the hardscapes of brick and cement. Cozy bistro tables with seating for two to larger round tables with spots for four encourage outdoor dining and conversation. Overhead party lights crisscross some areas, adding to the evening ambiance. Only the addition of outdoor public art would up the charm. Maybe that’s coming.
Flowers make a strong statement on a downtown anchor corner by Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
There’s more, much more. Rectangular limestone planters flush with trees, perennial flowers, shrubs and grasses create a living buffer between street and storefront that feels protective, naturally calming.
I spotted several of these fountains. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
Unobtrusive small scale water features scatter throughout the downtown. Benches beckon. There’s a neighborly vibe here, of connectedness.
A high-top narrow table caught my eye. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
I even spotted a skinny high-top table, minus chairs, cemented into the sidewalk, ideal for standing and chatting while nibbling or sipping. Outside a wine bar, two wooden barrels hold space.
Bike racks, like these corner ones, are placed throughout downtown, making this a biker-friendly area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
All of this, everything, speaks to me: “Welcome, we’re happy you’re here. Wander. Engage. Relax.” Owatonna got it right in this redo of their downtown. I appreciate when people take precedence over motor vehicles. (There’s still plenty of parking available.)
Hydrangea grow in this welcoming space, where work continues. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
I like the feeling I get in this downtown, along North Cedar Avenue. One of friendliness. One of deliberate attention to details. One of offering spaces that connect, that build community. One of feeling embraced in a carefully-curated nature-oriented environment.
This downtown feels like a place where I could listen to acoustic music, peruse a pop-up mini art show or listen to a local poet read poetry in a revamped alleyway. Mostly, though, downtown Owatonna feels pedestrian-friendly in a way that most downtowns do not. And that, to me, holds infinite appeal.
Sunflowers are drooping, like this one in the Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
I’M BEGINNING TO FEEL this sense of urgency, as if I need to spend more time outdoors taking in the natural world. It’s not a new feeling, but rather one which rolls into my thoughts at August’s end. When the calendar flips to September, everything shifts. I see it, hear it, smell it, feel it.
A dried oak leaf floats in a pond at the teaching gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Outside my front door, massive mophead hydrangeas are drying, morphing from green to brown. Once lush phlox are less full. Maple leaves, in hues of orange and yellow, litter the lawn. All over town, trees are beginning to change color.
Golden grasses sway in the gentle wind of early evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Jolts of color still fill the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Prolific black-eyed susans. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Crickets chirp. Cicadas buzz. School buses roll past my house. Everything is shifting. And nowhere is that more noticeable than in a garden.
This shows only a section of the teaching gardens. That’s an historic church, on the grounds of the Rice County Historical Society, in the background. The gardens are next to the RCHS museum. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
And so I encourage you, if you live in a place that will soon change to cold and colorless, to enjoy the flowers while they are still blooming, as I did recently at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens.
A mass of coneflowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A rain garden flourishes here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A few clematis were still blooming when I walked the gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Come, walk with me through this space with its beds of blooms, its textured perennials, its overall loveliness.
An array of flowers fill the gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A muted hue that leans into autumn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
The gardens include rock art, this one in the Rock Art Snake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Or find your own garden in your place. Walk. Sit. Take it all in. And when the season shifts, when the flowers are long gone, when the trees have dropped their leaves, then remember this time, these days. Remember the beauty of it all. Remind yourself in the depths of winter how you paused to appreciate these days of summer transitioning into autumn.
The snake I found in a Faribault garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
AS THE BIBLICAL STORY GOES, a cunning snake tempted Eve, convincing her that she could eat fruit from a tree growing in the middle of the Garden of Eden. She believed the snake’s claim of knowledge and immortality. Turns our he manipulated her. Things did not go so well after Eve ate the forbidden fruit and shared it with Adam.
I stood atop a bench to get this photo of the long and winding Rock Snake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Not all snakes are liars and evildoers. Some, like the one I found recently in a Faribault garden, are quite the opposite. The Rock Snake that stretches an estimated 40 feet across wood chips between a brick pathway and a rain garden in the Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens exudes only goodness.
The Rock Snake slithers (well, not really) past the rain garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
I resisted the temptation to snatch away a segment—a painted rock—of the snake. Some 220 painted stones comprise the serpent. I learned a lesson from Eve. Be strong. Don’t give in to those who would mislead you.
These painted rocks are themed to summer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
More sunshine and flowers on the snake’s body. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
And yet more flowers bloom on the Rock Snake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Rather, I opted to photograph and enjoy the Rock Snake with its inspiring, joyful messages, its colorful art. A posted sign invites people to add their own painted rocks, lengthening the snake designed to bring a smile.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
And smile I did as I followed the snake’s winding body, bending low to study the art, the words. Many of the stones were painted at the Master Gardeners’ booth during the recent Rice County Fair.
An overview of a small section of the gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Water features include a bird bath, pond and fountains. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Several benches offer a place to rest, contemplate and enjoy the gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
These gardeners, through their volunteer efforts, have created Faribault’s own Garden of Eden in a spacious area next to the conservation building and the Rice County Historical Society on the city’s north side. It’s taken years to get the garden to this lush, well-kept, welcoming space.
Swiss chard grows in the trial garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
I enjoy coming here, meandering among blooming flowers and plants, past the water features, pausing to examine the fairy garden. And now there’s more to see in the Rock Snake and a new bee lawn with habitat. There are trial gardens here and free seeds for the taking and benches for sitting. It is, indeed, a bit of paradise, a respite, a place to rest and contemplate and envelope one’s self in nature.
Flowers are always blooming. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A garden hose runs alongside the Rock Snake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
A sturdy dahlia blooms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Goodness thrives here. I experience it with my senses. My eyes take in the birds, blooms, bees, butterflies, the colorful Rock Snake. I smell the scent of blossoms. I hear water burbling in fountains, birds chirping. And if I could pluck vegetables from the trial gardens, I would assuredly taste goodness. But I won’t. I will not be tempted. Rather I will look and not touch. Leave and not take. I will leave this bit of Eden as I found it, beautiful and wondrous, a place of peace for anyone who visits.
A patch of daisies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
RECENTLY, MY SISTER-IN-LAW Rena asked me to name my favorite flower. I immediately responded, “Daisy.” But that’s not really true, I realized the more I considered the flowers I especially like.
A time existed when my response to Rena was accurate. For a long time, daisies assuredly were my personal pick for most beloved floral. Daisies, like me, are simple, uncomplicated, down-to-earth. There’s nothing pretentious about a daisy with its circle of white petals and yellow center.
Daisies, too, were the flower of my teen years. The age of flower children and peace symbols and rebellion. Daisies, prolific, strong, reseeding on their own, spreading and blanketing the landscape.
I still like daisies a lot. The way they bend in the wind. The way they remind me of my youth. And young love.
Zinnias sourced at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
But, after pondering Rena’s question, I would answer differently. Zinnias. Yes, vivid, bold zinnias are my favorite flower today. Like daisies, they trace to my youth. Mom seeded rows of zinnias in her vegetable garden. They jolted color into the greenery, later adding color to our farmhouse in bouquets gathered.
Zinnias and cosmos can be easily grown by direct seeding into the soil. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Zinnias grow easily from seed. They are hardy and prolific and colorful, coming in varying sizes from small to “giant.” They make excellent, long-lasting cut flowers.
My friend Al, left, sells flowers and produce at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I transferred the zinnia bouquet from Solo cup to vase at home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Al and Char’s zinnias up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
As I write, a bouquet of zinnias purchased at the Faribault Farmers’ Market graces a vintage chest of drawers in my living room. My friend Al grew them. His wife, Char, artistically arranged the stems of red, pink, orange and yellow with one green-tinted flower tossed in the colorful mix.
Randy bought them for me. For no reason. I love when he does that—spur of the moment gives me flowers. Just because. I was chatting with our friend Duane while Randy paid for sweetcorn purchased from Al along with those unexpected zinnias arranged in a red Solo cup. It was a moment when I felt loved, so loved, as if Randy had given me my daisy a day.
Monarch on the common milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)
I’VE ALWAYS HELD a fascination with milkweeds. Their clusters of vanilla-scented dusty pink flowers draw me to a plant that seems more flower than weed. Unless you were my dad, who wanted the common milkweed removed from his acres of soybeans. Yes, I hoed or pulled plenty of milkweeds from the fields on my southwestern Minnesota childhood farm.
Milkweeds grow next to the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds against a backdrop of identifying milkweed photos. Those include six types: common, poke, purple, butterfly, whorled and swamp. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
My thinking has shifted since then. Today I plant, rather than eradicate, milkweeds. Dad, if he was still alive, might wonder how his farm-raised daughter strayed so far from hoeing to growing.
A monarch caterpillar. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The answer is easy. Long ago I learned the value of milkweeds to our monarch butterfly population. The butterfly lays its eggs on milkweed leaves. And milkweed is the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars. If we want the monarch population to grow, thrive and survive, we need milkweed plants. It’s that simple.
A sign at Hy-Vee grocery store explains the importance of milkweed to monarchs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
More and more I’ve spotted milkweeds growing in public places in and around Faribault. River Bend Nature Center. Falls Creek County Park. The Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens. Beside the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds. Even in flowerbeds at Hy-Vee grocery store.
Milkweeds grow among phlox. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
If you walk by my house, you’ll see stray milkweeds popping up here and there. Along a retaining wall. Among the prolific phlox in my messy flowerbeds. The husband has orders not to mow, pull or otherwise remove milkweed plants.
An unripened milkweed pod. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
This time of year, seed pods are forming on milkweeds. Perhaps it’s the writer, the poet, in me that loves the shape of those fat green pods that will eventually dry, burst open and spread seeds on wisps of white fluff carried by the wind.
Milkweeds flourish among prairie flowers in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens, Faribault, (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Seeds wing across the landscape, just like monarchs. I remember a time when monarchs were prolific. Yes, even in rural Minnesota where I labored to get rid of milkweed plants.
I discovered milkweeds planted outside Hy-Vee. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Naturalists, gardeners and others are working hard now to bring back the monarch population. It’s taken time, effort and education to convince people to plant milkweeds for monarchs. I don’t expect butterfly numbers will be what they once were—when monarchs flitted everywhere. But we have to start somewhere, do something. And that begins with each of us. Educating ourselves. Caring. And then deciding that milkweeds really aren’t weeds after all. They are vital to the survival of the monarch butterfly. It’s OK to plant milkweed seeds or allow nature to plant them.
Monarch on a thistle flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I, for one, delight in watching monarchs flit about my yard. They are magical as only a butterfly can be. Delicate, yet strong. Poetically beautiful. Carrying memories and grace on their wings.
An educational sign among the flowers at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
FYI: Nerstrand Big Woods State Park is hosting a “Monarchs and Milkweeds” presentation at 10 a.m. Saturday, August 24, in the park’s amphitheater. Kathy Gillispie, who raises monarchs from eggs, caterpillars and chrysalises, will speak about her experiences with monarchs. The program is free, but a state park parking pass is needed to enter the rural Nerstrand park.
This identifying signage is posted on Kenyon’s city building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
WHEN IT COMES to branding, everything is coming up roses in Kenyon. Literally.
Welcome to Kenyon and its Boulevard of Roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Roses bloom throughout the summer in the boulevard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
So many lovely roses… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
This community of just under 2,000 identifies itself via its Boulevard of Roses which is, indeed, a rose-filled boulevard on Minnesota State Highway 60/Gunderson Boulevard. For blocks along this heavily-traveled roadway on the west side of downtown, tree roses grow, blooming beauty into the landscape.
So many beautiful roses in assorted hues. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Whether growing individually or in clusters, these tree roses are glorious. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Traffic whizzes by on both sides as you smell/view the roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Recently, I stopped to smell the roses. Literally. I dipped my nose into the perfume-scented flowers, delighting in their fragrance as semi trucks and other motor vehicles blew by me only feet away. Smelling the roses here requires caution. I’ve often wished Kenyon had a public rose garden, allowing for rose viewing, and smelling, in a peaceful setting.
Even a plaque on Kenyon’s city building has the rose brand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
But that the city has this, this Boulevard of Roses, is a gift. Back in 1962, city employee Lloyd Jystad asked to plant 10 tree roses to spruce up the boulevard. Permission granted. He cared for the rose bushes, which require burying in the ground before winter and then uncovering in the spring. From that initial request, the rose idea grew to include some 100 bushes, which are still cared for by city employees today. The Boulevard of Roses was dedicated in June 1968. That’s a long time of growing and tending roses.
Rose branding on the city liquor store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Throughout Kenyon, roses bloom. In many ways, it’s remarkable for a community this small to have such a strong identifier. But I saw roses everywhere during a recent visit, far beyond the real ones that bloom along the highway. The red rose symbol graces many a sign in Kenyon.
A sandwich board sits outside a small business well in advance of Rose Fest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Business branding on a shop door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Promoting the upcoming Rose Fest car and truck show in a storefront window. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The city also celebrates roses in August with the Kenyon Rose Fest, this year August 14-18. It’s your typical small town summer celebration with fest royalty, a parade, a car and truck show, vendor and craft market, great food, and more. Mostly, Rose Fest is about connecting people and community. It brings folks together to celebrate small town life.
A fitting name for a floral shop in Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I often wonder if motorists, as they drive through Kenyon in their hurry from Point A to Point B, even notice the beauty they’re passing by in the Boulevard of Roses. I’m here to say it’s worth your time to stop, exit your vehicle and smell the roses. Life is much sweeter when we slow down and appreciate the nuances of small towns like Kenyon with its Boulevard of Roses.
Roses bloom in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens at the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
OH, HOW BEAUTIFUL the flowers that gardeners tend. Petals flash color, painting the landscape in bold and delicate hues. Flowers dip and bend in the wind like silent writers penning poetry. Flowers inspire, bring joy, carry love stories and memories.
Delicate pink flowers in a garden at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Flowers have always been a part of my life. From my paternal grandma’s unruly flowerbeds to my mom’s rows of colorful zinnias in the vegetable garden to my own flowers growing in a chaotic mess, I’ve delighted in blooms.
Clematis climb an arched trellis at the teaching gardens. An historic church and school, part of the Rice County Historical Society, are a lovely backdrop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Vivid yellow lilies jolt color into Cathedral gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Another Cathedral lily. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
At one time I could identify flower parts, like those shown in this lily close-up blooming at the Cathedral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Right now, the lilies are in full bloom. They appear a sturdy lot to me, a lesson in botany with stamens and pistils and all those parts I once learned in a long ago science class. Now I don’t care much about that, just the beauty my eyes take in as I wander among the flowers.
An inviting garden, complete with benches, graces the northside entry to the Cathedral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Iris bloom at the Cathedral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
For use at the teaching gardens when needed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I’m thankful for the volunteers who plant, weed and care for flower gardens created out of a love of gardening and out of a desire to beautify a community. It takes time, effort, commitment, and that does not go unnoticed by me.
A clump of daisies, similar to these photographed at Faribault Energy Park, grow on my boulevard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 20219)
Life is full of opportunities to brighten this world. Flowers are one way. I watched the other day from my living room window as a young boy picked a daisy from an errant patch growing in the boulevard by my house. Then his mom plucked one, too, tucking a single stem into the front of her tank top. I didn’t care that they picked the daisies. I could see how happy it made them.
At the teaching gardens, flowers ladder a stem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The daisy, such a simple flower, blooming profusely in the grass next to a busy street. Bent by the wind and rain, as if bowing to the earth. The daisy has always been a sunny favorite of mine. Daisies were woven into my bridal bouquet, my bridesmaids’ baskets of flowers and corsages on my wedding day 42 years ago. Flowers hold love stories, memories.
Fanciful astilbe grow in the teaching gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
In bloom at the Cathedral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Spots of purple in a Cathedral garden like a single line of poetry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I expect, if pressed, anyone could share a flower story. Stories of love and loss, celebration and sorrow, gratitude and healing. Flowers hold stories as much as they write them. Creativity thrives in their bold and delicate hues, in the way they grow and flourish and fade. In the way they stand or bend in the wind, like silent writers penning poetry.
Crocuses blooming on March 12. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
DAYS AFTER I BRUSHED aside leaf mulch, my crocuses are in full bloom under the bold sunlight of March here in southern Minnesota.
Veins run through the cupped purple petals popping with golden centers. They are beautiful to behold. Vibrant in a landscape of brown.
Due to the unseasonably mild Minnesota winter, these crocuses are blooming weeks earlier than usual. Had I not uncovered the perennials several days ago to find a lone blossom leaning, I would have missed this explosion of color in my front yard flowerbed.
I admire crocuses, daffodils and tulips, the first brave flowers of spring. That they even survive in this harsh climate seems a miracle in itself. Crocuses store food in corms, their underground stem system.
And so I want to take a moment to celebrate this clutch of crocuses, to recognize the importance of noticing that which is right before our eyes. All too often we hurry through our days without pausing to appreciate the little things. The flush of blossoms. The bright flash of a cardinal. The scurrying of a squirrel. Today may you stop, look and see, really see, the beauty within this day.
TELL ME: What little thing are you seeing today that bring you joy?
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments