Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Photo pops of pink & orange September 21, 2012

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Zinnias

PINK AND ORANGE. Not until recent years would I have mixed those colors or considered them an appropriate combination.

Cosmos

Are you kidding? Pink and orange. Together.

Zinnia

But now I revel in the unleashing of creativity in color pairings, a loosening of the choking tie of conservatism and matchy-match this and that.

Zinnia

It’s freeing, isn’t it, to realize everything—from our homes to our gardens, from our paintings to our photos—doesn’t need to be Martha Stewart-like perfect.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A fairy tale park in New Ulm August 3, 2012

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An overview of German Park in New Ulm, photographed last Saturday.

IF A PARK COULD BE WRITTEN into a fairy tale, then German Park in New Ulm certainly would serve as an ideal setting for a happily-ever-after story.

Descend the hillside steps into this picturesque park near New Ulm’s downtown business district, and you walk into an enchanting world of flowers and foliage, fountain and photographic opportunities.

I kept my distance from the bridal couple and their families.

However, on the Saturday of my visit, the happily-ever-after part of this story limited my photo ops. Not that I wasn’t tempted to write my own twists into the plot unfolding before me. But I figured the main characters, the bride-to-be and her groom being photographed here, would not appreciate me wedging my way into their storybook wedding day.

Columns add interest and a poetic quality to German Park.

So I skirted the edges of German Park, admiring the flowers and the fountain at a distance. I weaved among the columns, appreciating the beauty and charm of this place, all the while wishing I could photograph freely.

I kept a respectful distance in this, my closest shot of the bridal couple and their families.

At one point a nervous grandma hurried over to snatch up a camera bag as I approached with my camera bag hugging my hip, my Canon EOS 20D looped by a strap around my neck. I wanted to advise her that I wasn’t about to spoil the story, to wind my way up the path toward the happy wedding couple like a wily, wicked witch.

THE END

OK, I was a wee bit sneaky in including the bridal couple in this frame. But I liked how the  words tranquility, blessings and ordain from the Preamble to the Constitution seemed to fit the occasion.

One of numerous pavers which enlighten visitors about New Ulm, here the Hermann Monument.

This column informed me of something I never knew, that a deadly tornado ravaged the city on July 15, 1881. That event raised an awareness of the need for a local hospital.

FYI: To learn about the New Ulm tornado of 1881, click here to read an account published in the Saint Paul Daily Globe.

Click here to learn more about the history of New Ulm Medical Center.

Finally, click here to read an earlier blog post about New Ulm’s Goosetown.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Margaret’s Monet garden June 27, 2012

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This overview shows you the size of Margaret’s sprawling flower garden on Faribault’s east side.

OH, WHAT AN ABSOLUTE JOY to be Margaret’s neighbor, to gaze across the street into her flower garden reminiscent of a Claude Monet painting.

But, alas, I live down the hill, over the river and into the valley across town from this eastside Faribault garden.

I happened upon Margaret’s sprawling, Impressionist style garden on a recent Saturday morning. And because I’m not at all shy, I popped out of the van and approached Margaret as she weeded her flowers.

She obliged my request to photograph her flowers (but not her) and also answered my questions like, “What is that?” or “Is that …?”

Low-lying fuchsia sedum add a jolt of brilliant color.

Loved these dainty, pale pink flowers. Gardeners, what are they? No, I couldn’t ask Margaret to identify every single plant.

Margaret didn’t tell me I couldn’t photograph her hand. She kept working while we talked, bucket of tools nearby. She had more gardening tools in the garage, she said.

Margaret knows her flowers and her passion for them is irrepressible. She simply loves to garden. That’s apparent as her flower garden stretches nearly the entire 180-foot length of her and her husband’s lot and then extends 30 – 40 feet from the edge of the sidewalk, down the slope and to the garage. She began planting the garden about five years ago, partially so her husband wouldn’t need to mow the slope of the lawn.

From daisies to bee balm, sedum to clematis, lamb’s ears to lilies and dozens of other perennials, Margaret’s garden is awash in color and blooms. Her pride and joy, though, are her 50 some rose bushes.

Margaret’s garden is a rose lover’s paradise.

“I just love roses,” Margaret says. “They just have beautiful flowers and smell wonderful.”

Roses and more abloom with pieces of art tucked in among the flowers.

One of the many English rose bushes, which are Margaret’s favorite for their thick layers of petals and scent.

I roamed the perimeter of the garden, snapping photos as rain pittered and hastened my photo shoot. Yet, I took time to inhale the heady perfume of Margaret’s beloved English roses. English and shrub rose bushes compromise most of the roses in her garden.

The most gorgeous clematis I’ve ever seen, in full bloom.

Just look at Margaret’s eye for color, pairing purple clematis and coral roses.

I noticed this gardener’s talent for pairing colors—especially the striking contrast of royal purple clematis next to coral-hued roses.

Who knew a rain gauge could also be a piece of garden art staked next to lilies?

I appreciated, too, how she tucks garden art among her flowers with the skills of a designer.

A snippet overview of a portion of Margaret’s Monet garden.

If Margaret’s garden was a painting, surely it would be a Monet.

Margaret mixes the jewel tones of raspberries with flowers. She’s also incorporated strawberries and tomatoes into her flower garden.

FYI: Margaret’s garden is located at 1325 11th Avenue Northeast, Faribault.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering Justin, with love June 16, 2012

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An overview showing a portion of a beautiful western Minnesota memory garden graced with flowers and garden art and a bench for quiet contemplation, photographed Friday evening.

SUNLIGHT DAPPLED THROUGH the trees as the summer day transitioned into evening during that magical hour(s) of light beloved by every photographer.

I was cognizant of the fleeting, perfect light as I meandered, camera in hand, along the stone path in the garden edged by swamp grasses on two sides, by manicured lawn on the other borders.

The buttercup yellow of a columbine.

I admired the columbines and Russian sage, the zinnias and the day lilies, the promise of daisies, the sedum and the ground-hugging creepers that crept between the stones laid as a walking path.

A bee sips in the early evening.

Beautiful angel. Beautiful light.

Once I bent close to photograph a busy bee and then an angel, hands clasped in reverent prayer, wings spread wide, stones from Montana ringing her feet.

For the love of playing baseball and watching baseball with Dad.

Half way through the garden I paused beside four baseball bats laid end to end in a rectangular shape honoring the boy who loved baseball.

The newest addition to the garden, a solar-powered sculpture of a boy holding a jar of fireflies.

I circled along the back edge of the garden and knelt before garden art of a boy holding fireflies captive in a jar. I returned later, when darkness crept into the day, to photograph the fireflies aglow. I smiled at the memory of the boy catching fireflies.

And when darkness began to descend upon the prairie, the fireflies were aglow. I plan to get a sculpture just like this for my flower garden.

I read the marker at the garden entrance, before entering and then again upon leaving. I wondered how a mother and a father could bear such grief.

The entry to Justin’s garden.

And the next day, I hugged the parents of the boy—my nephew—who would have celebrated his 30th birthday. Today. And my husband and son and I gave Justin’s mother half a dozen red roses and a blue balloon to release with the other blue balloons she and my brother-in-law will send heavenward today. To celebrate the young man whose life held such promise, such love, such hope for the future.

THIS POST IS WRITTEN  in loving memory of my nephew, Justin, who was born on June 16, 1982, and died at the age of 19 on August 20, 2001, from Hodgkin’s disease. His parents created a beautiful memory garden in their yard honoring their son.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Color my world with flowers May 24, 2012

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Tables packed with colorful flowers fill the Faribault Garden Center.

HOT PINK, royal purple, bold orange, golden yellow, pale peach…seemingly every imaginable hue blankets the greenhouse in a riotous patchwork quilt of blossoms.

I stand there. Blissful. Smiling. Taking it all in.

How can I possibly choose where to aim my camera first, which blossom to dip my nose into, which plant to admire?

Hot pink geraniums initially catch my eye.

It is impossible not to be happy in a place like this, to want to swoop up the old standby geraniums and petunias, to grab packets of dainty, sweet-smelling alyssum, to corral containers of impatiens onto a cart, to choose the crimson bloodroot plant, to want it all, to fill my yard with color and beauty.

A row of hanging baskets filled with begonias stretches across the greenhouse.

A Minnesota winter, albeit a mild one this year, does this to me. Not even the vibrant and bold polyester patchwork quilt that warms me from November to April is enough to satisfy my visual need for color. By May, my soul, my eyes, my very being yearns for nature to color my world.

A colorful King Kong coleus.

A snippet of the vibrant polyester patchwork quilt my paternal grandmother stitched for me so many seasons ago.

More vivid blooms…

The non-descript Faribault Garden Center, where I photographed all of these flowers.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The mysterious delivery of a dozen roses May 11, 2012

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The UPS delivery man dropped a dozen multi-colored roses and a box of chocolates off at my house late Thursday morning. I asked him: “Are those really flowers in that box?” He gave me a look like, “Lady, what do you think is in that box?” Well, sir, I’ve never received flowers in a box.

FOR SEVERAL HOURS, the mystery remained a mystery.

But I was determined to solve it—to learn the identity of the individual who sent me a dozen boxed roses and a sampler of chocolates, without a note.

I could have simply called the San Diego-based world-wide floral company listed on the return address label. But why opt for the easiest solution? I would play sleuth.

First I phoned a Minnesota floral shop and then sent two text messages before crossing my husband, floral designer sister and my oldest daughter’s boyfriend (because he is one of the few Californians I know) off the list.

Next I texted my other daughter who lives in eastern Wisconsin. She was working and couldn’t respond. I didn’t suspect her anyway given she is a recent college grad paying off student loans.

Finally, I had run out of ideas and phoned the San Diego floral company.

“We must have forgotten to put the note in the envelope,” the kindly woman on the other end of the line said.

Uh, huh.

After giving her the order number, the nice lady told me she couldn’t identify the sender, but she could share the missing message. I listened as she read an endearing Mother’s Day message from…the daughter in Wisconsin.

Thank you, Miranda, for the lovely, surprise gift. It’s the first time I’ve received a dozen roses. Ever.

They’re beautiful, just like you, my dear, sweet, precious daughter.

The chocolate sampler sent by my daughter Miranda.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

May flowers May 10, 2012

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An allium bud.

THE FIRST FLOWERS of spring always draw me close with my camera to bend and crouch and ponder how I might photograph buds and/or petals in a way that seems anything but ordinary.

I study buds clasped so tight I wonder how they will ever release. I marvel in delicate petals and the green of leaves and stems and in coiled fiddleheads.

Bleeding hearts

Every spring flower, from the first jolts of lemon-hued daffodils to the vibrant red and yellow tulips and now the pink of dainty bleeding hearts and the lavender of long-stemmed waving allium, pulls me close. Yes, even the dandelions.

A dandelion gone to seed.

As we transition into May in Minnesota, I consider the annuals I will pot, the seeds I will sow in flower beds and the perennials yet to bloom in the heat and humidity of long summer days.

This truly is the time of year when all seems brighter and greener and, oh, so full of promise.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The gifts of the daffodil March 21, 2012

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The clutch of daffodils now blooming in my front yard flower bed.

NOTHING COMPARES to the daffodil. Bright. Cheery. A burst of brilliance in a dreary landscape of muted browns and grays.

Like an island in the vast sea or an oasis in the desolate desert, the daffodil provides a welcome respite for the winter weary sojourner’s eyes.

She holds the promise of spring unfurling in her petals, of sunshine-filled days ahead, of the earth erupting in new growth.

She causes me to smile and think of May baskets woven from construction paper and jumping rope and leg-kicking toward the sky upon a weathered board swing.

Simply put, the daffodil makes me happy.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Take this weather, California March 16, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:10 AM
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Daffodils, the first flowers of spring in Minnesota, are springing up during this unseasonably warm March weather.

OH, HOW I TRIED, resisted, told myself not to write on this topic. But I have finally given in to an indisputable Minnesotan urge to discuss the weather.

I will not, cannot, apologize for this geographical predisposition. Weather is always a topic of conversation in Minnesota. Too hot. Too humid. Too cold. Too dry. Too wet. Just like Goldilocks, we are never quite satisfied until…we get weather like this…

…recent string of sunshine-filled mid-March days with temperatures soaring into the 60s and 70s. Typically the weather this time of year is cold, snowy and gloomy, the landscape bleak and depressing.

I suppose we would all feel more grateful if this had been a long cold winter with mountains of snow and sub-zero temperatures. Remember last winter? This season my husband has used our snowblower only once. And this week, as I survey my neighborhood, I spot not a speck of snow, not even under trees or in the north side shade of buildings.

Rather, I see joggers and mothers pushing babies in strollers and a gym class of students running past my house.

I spy tulips and daffodils poking their folded leaves several inches through the soil. I’ve tossed the decaying mulch leaves of autumn from crocuses teasing me with peeks of purple. And Tuesday evening, on a whim, I picked up a packet of spinach seeds. Tell me, is it too soon to sow spinach?

If this weather holds, I expect my crocuses will soon be in bloom, like these I photographed last spring.

I’ve thrown open the windows, allowing the fresh air to sweep indoors, pushing out the closed-up stale air of winter.

Laundry goes out on the line nearly every day now, although I must qualify that even when temps are in the 30s, I hang freshly-washed clothes outside, if the sun is shining. Nature’s dryer will dry clothes in the strong afternoon sunshine of a frigid winter day.

My son has asked me to replace the flannel sheets on his bed with light-weight cotton ones. I’m keeping the cozy flannel on my bed. He is 18; I am 37 ½ years wiser.

My eldest daughter flew out to southwestern California this morning, right into a winter storm predicted to bring significant rain and cold to the West Coast this weekend. So much for warm and sunny California.

How about warm and sunny Minnesota? Eighty degrees predicted today here in Faribault.

A pussy willow snipped on Wednesday from a neighbor's yard.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Behind the scenes at a Minnesota floral shop before Valentine’s Day February 13, 2012

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Waseca Floral designers Tara, left, Carol and Lanae work in the shop Sunday morning.

THE SUNDAY MORNING before Valentine’s Day, and the designers at Waseca Floral work at a quick pace, pulling flowers from buckets, snipping stems, sticking greens into vases, tying ribbons and more in a swirl of creativity.

Spools of ribbon line shelves.

They’ve been at it all weekend and, with two days to go, they have yet to face their busiest day, February 14. Most purchases are last-minute, made on Valentine’s Day, says long-time head floral designer Lanae Feser.

And the most popular flower, as one would expect, are red roses, followed by mixed arrangements of red, pink and white flowers.

Roses pack coolers for Valentine's Day.

Lanae isn’t divulging any numbers in either flower quantities or sales, except to estimate that Valentine’s Day related sales this year will be up 15 percent. Customers are reaching deeper into their wallets and adding on the little extras—like a $5 balloon or a box of candy or a stuffed animal—to their floral purchases.

Extras, like balloons, are more popular this year.

And who spends the most money?

“The younger they are, the more they spend,” Lanae says, speculating along with another designer that younger guys are often trying to impress a girl.

Bright blooms fill coolers.

But peer pressure, or perhaps office pressure, also plays a role in some sales. After deliveries to major businesses in town, the floral shop typically experiences a spike in orders.

“There’s nothing worse than everyone in the office getting flowers and your wife doesn’t,” Lanae laughs.

Customers, before writing a message, sometimes ask: "Nobody else is going to see this, right?"

And the men who order flowers don’t just buy for their sweethearts. They also buy for their mothers and, if they have children, for their kids, too, Lanae says.

Over the years, the shop has had a few unusual requests such as a single rose delivered every hour on Valentine’s Day or a rose a day delivered for the seven days prior and then a dozen roses sent on February 14.

For the most part, though, the prevailing attitude among male customers, according to Lanae, seems to be this: “As long as I get her something, I’m OK.”

Some of the floral options designers created in reusable mugs.

Another option...

The single bust for floral shops, the designers and Waseca Floral owner Rick Morris agree, is a Valentine’s Day that falls on a Sunday. Then guys tend to take their sweethearts out to eat rather than give flowers.

Rick Morris, owner of Waseca Floral for 40 years.

Each year Rick reminds his customers of the day on which Valentine’s Day falls via a rhyming poem that airs on area radio station KRUE 92. That 15 to 20-year tradition (Rick can’t recall precisely how long he’s been penning and reading poems for radio spots) started with these two questions:

Where in tarnation can you buy a carnation?

Would it be crazy to buy a daisy?

You can buy carnations and daisies at Waseca Floral.

His current poem begins with these lines:

Valentine’s Day is Tuesday this year

When you will want to bring her cheer

The poem continues for five more verses.

The message is simple, Rick says. “Buy flowers.”

Coolers filled with flowers await customers.

Waseca Floral is ready to deliver flowers on Valentine's Day.

TO READ ABOUT another Waseca Floral advertising tradition, click here.

DISCLAIMER: Waseca Floral Designer Lanae Feser is my sister. I was not paid to, or asked to, write this post, nor did I receive flowers in exchange for this story. My husband, however, unbeknown to me, purchased flowers for me from Waseca Floral.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling