Pedestrians cross Central Avenue in downtown Faribault during a blizzard Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
IT’S LATE SUNDAYAFTERNOON and we should be on the interstate right now driving from Faribault to Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. But instead, wicked winter weather changed everything. We are hunkered down at home, in the midst of a good old-fashioned Minnesota blizzard predicted to drop as much as 10 inches of snow on our area.
Another view of Central Avenue looking north. You can barely see the stoplight a block away. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Fifteen minutes to the south, Interstate 35 southbound is closed from Owatonna into Iowa. Travel is not advised in many areas, including north of Faribault, the direction we would be going. There are crashes, spin-outs, jack-knifed semis. Snowplows have been pulled in some counties due to deteriorating conditions with wind whipping snow, creating white-out conditions.
And at the airport, where we should be headed to drop off our son for his 7 pm flight back to Boston, cancellations and delays are stacking up. Saturday afternoon he rebooked to an early Tuesday morning flight per our suggestion. We did not want to be driving on Interstate 35 to the airport in a blizzard.
The scene as we left Gather on Central around 3:15 pm Sunday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
But Randy and I did head downtown Faribault, a short drive from our house, to celebrate a friend’s 80th birthday earlier this afternoon. In the 90 minutes we were there, weather conditions worsened substantially. The wind picked up, swirling snow along Central Avenue. If things look this bad in town, I can only imagine how conditions are in the open countryside.
Willow Street in Faribault Sunday afternoon a block from our home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Yup, I’m thankful to be home and not attempting a trip to the airport. The son can work remotely on Monday. We’re all safe, sheltered inside waiting out this blizzard.
Winds and blowing snow produce near white-out conditions during a past winter storm in southern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
“I DIDN’T THINK it would be that bad,” Randy said. Neither did I.
But our drive to and from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport Thursday afternoon to get our son, arriving from Boston, proved difficult and stressful. Let me set the scene.
As we headed out of Faribault toward Interstate 35 shortly after lunch, freezing pellets pinged our windshield and the wind blew fierce, limiting visibility. And we weren’t even out of town.
A WICKED WIND
Once on the interstate, though, the precipitation soon stopped. But the wind gusted with such ferocity that I could feel it tugging at the van and observed semi truck drivers struggling to keep their rigs in their lanes.
Yet, the wicked 40 mph winds—or whatever ridiculous speed they reached—dried the pavement of the rain that fell earlier in the morning. That rain later transitioned to intermittent snow as temps continued to drop throughout the day. The morning temp started at nearly 40 degrees.
We detoured from our airport route to stop at our nephew’s house in Apple Valley to pick up a Christmas gift and stained glass supplies. Within that 45-minute visit, the weather worsened. But, surprisingly, our son’s flight arrived 15 minutes early. Here I’d been concerned about a possible late arrival due to weather conditions.
As we got onto Cedar Avenue aiming for the airport, traffic volume increased. We blended into the traffic flow, proceeding with caution like almost everyone else. Except the usual few motorists who do not drive for conditions. Snowplows were out sanding and salting and spreading whatever to de-ice road surfaces.
WAITING & MORE WAITING
I thought we would be late and Caleb would be waiting for us inside the terminal. But no. He was waiting for his luggage. We waited in the cellphone lot for a good half hour as he waited for his bags. Yes, a lot of waiting.
Eventually we were back in bumper-to-bumper traffic as vehicles crept toward passenger pick-up. This always feels like a game of chicken to me, trying to wedge into the gridlock so your loved one can see you and get safely to your vehicle. Eventually we reached door four, spotted Caleb, hefted his mammoth suitcase into the back of the van, placed the backpack behind the driver’s seat, grabbed a quick hug and started home.
AT LEAST WE’RE MOVING
Traffic congestion continued, although we were moving. And moving is always better than not. I just wanted to get home before the weather got worse, before rush hour traffic peaked and because, well, I really had to pee. It’s not the first time I’ve wished for a porta potty in the cellphone lot.
To move this story along, once we got farther out of the metro, past Elko New Market, traffic lessened. The wind still blew fierce and snow fell. We were in wide open country, rural Minnesota. The wind swept the snow away like a broom, leaving traffic lanes clean.
SNOW GATES
All was going fine until we got about 10 miles from Faribault. Visibility wasn’t reduced to white-out conditions, but wind-driven snow diminished visibility considerably in some spots. “I bet they closed the snow gates in Owatonna,” I said in the midst of all this. Snow gates, if you’re unfamiliar with the term, are actual gates pulled across the top of entrance ramps to keep motorists off the interstate during a winter storm.
I haven’t read any media reports that Interstate 35 snow gates were closed yesterday. But I did read of a multi-vehicle crash that happened on I-35 between Owatonna and Ellendale at 3:15 pm in blizzard-like conditions. That closed the southbound lane for three hours. Owatonna is a 15-minute drive south of Faribault.
We arrived home at 3:30 pm, safe and sound with an hour to spare before dark. Soon thereafter, our eldest daughter texted that no travel was advised in Rice County. We’d gotten home just in time as our county was now among many Minnesota counties in a blizzard warning. We cozied in for the night while the wind howled, me thankful that we made it to the airport and back without incident.
This morning we awoke to sub-zero temps. And a fresh layer of snow to shovel.
This image shows heavy traffic along Interstate 35 north of Faribault, BEFORE road construction started. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2023)
MATTHEW. CIMBERLY. MONA. DENNIS. They ranged in age from 63 to 79. And they all died this summer as a result of crashes in a construction zone on Interstate 35 just north and south of Faribault. Add to that multiple other crashes, including an August 20 six-vehicle chain reaction pile-up resulting in life-threatening injuries to two women, and this stretch of roadway has quickly become known as unsafe and deadly.
Faribault Fire Chief Dusty Dienst in mid-July publicly encouraged local residents to avoid this section of the I-35 corridor as construction continues into November and then resumes again next year. Dienst’s warning came shortly after two semis collided in a fiery crash on July 12. Dennis, a trucker from South Dakota, died of his injuries 16 days later. And Dienst’s warning came nearly a month before the latest three fatalities.
Mona from east central Minnesota died on August 11 and then Matthew and Cimberly, a couple from Iowa, two weeks later in crashes in the same area of the northbound lanes just south of Faribault.
Local residents are rightly concerned. I am, too. We are avoiding the interstate and have told our daughter and her husband, who live 35 minutes north in Lakeville, to “Stay off 35 by Faribault.”
People are quick, on social media, to speculate on the causes of these crashes. They point primarily to speed and distracted driving, without any insider knowledge. Since I don’t know the facts, I won’t assume anything. The Minnesota State Patrol, the investigating entity, can determine the causes. I will say, though, that I have witnessed my share of distracted and dangerous driving (tailgating, speeding, weaving…) on I-35 and other interstates/freeways both inside and outside the Twin Cities metro. That’s both in passenger vehicles and in semi trucks.
The fact is that four people died within a month in the construction zone on the interstate near Faribault. They leave loved ones and friends grieving their tragic, unexpected deaths.
Every time I hear sirens now and watch as the ambulance speeds by my house, I wonder if yet another crash has occurred along the interstate. Every time I hear and see an air ambulance flying near my home, heading toward the hospital, I wonder if yet another person has been airlifted off the interstate with critical, life-threatening injuries. Every time traffic builds on my street to a steady, higher volume than usual, I check local media for reports of yet another serious crash along I-35 by Faribault. The street past my house is a backroad route between Medford and Faribault, although not the official detour off 35.
And I wonder, what can be done to improve safety so no one else is injured or dies in the I-35 construction zone in Rice County? Something needs to change. And soon.
Approaching the new City of Faribault water tower, northbound on Interstate 35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo taken on June 1 from the front passenger seat)
WATER TOWERSAND GRAIN ELEVATORS. They are the defining landmarks of rural communities, the structures that rise high above the land, marking a place. In my native southwestern Minnesota, where the land stretches flat and far with infinite sky, you can see water towers and grain elevators from miles away.
Rice County remains rural at its core. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Long ago I left the prairie to settle in a region with a more diverse topography and a heckuva a lot more trees, lakes and people. I appreciate Rice County, my home of 41 years, with its geographical and human diversity.
Alfalfa dries in rows next to the water tower aside I-35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Faribault, population nearing 25,000 (big by my standards), is located along Interstate 35 an hour south of Minneapolis. To travelers, it likely seems just another unidentifiable city along the endless four-lane. Another place to pass en route to wherever.
A view of the water tower heading southbound on I-35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Now a new water tower rising aside I-35 a few miles north of Faribault will clearly identify my community. From the interstate, I’ve watched progress on the 750,000 gallon water storage silo that will serve the growing industrial park. The city received a $2 million grant from the Business Development Public Infrastructure Program through the Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development to help fund the estimated nearly $4 million total project.
Faribault’s symbol graces the new water tower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Recently, City Of Faribault and the city logo, a fleur de lis, were painted onto the top of the tower, which currently sits at the base. It’s a simple, memorable design that is Faribault’s signature signature. The graphic, which resembles a lily and was often used by French royalty, honors the French heritage of town founder Alexander Faribault. It should be noted that he was also of Dakota heritage.
Northbound I-35 traffic passes the new City of Faribault water tower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
I like the fleur de lis. It’s artistically-pleasing, elegant, timeless, a classy symbol I’ve come to associate with my community of Faribault. Now, for anyone passing by on I-35, that flourish of gold on the water tower accented by blue will flag Faribault. Even here, far from the prairie, water towers are more than just functional. They identify a place, on the land, under the sky.
WITH TEMPERATURES IN THE LOW 50s here in southern Minnesota on Saturday, the unseasonably warm weather presented another opportunity for some bikers to hit the road before winter settles in for good.
This die-hard Harley rider passed us while we traveled northbound along Interstate 35 in Owatonna early Saturday afternoon.
The biker lowered his left hand here, presumably to warm his hand.
He looked cold to me with his head hunched into his leather-clad shoulders while gripping the handlebars of his windshield-less bike. With his gloved hands in that high position, no blood flowed warmth to his fingers.
Exiting Interstate 35 in Owatonna.
Randy guessed the windchill on that bike to be in the mid-20s based on the air temp and highway speed of 70 mph. Brrr. Now that’s cold, even for a hardy Minnesota Harley rider.
Posted near the amphitheater at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault, Minnesota.
IN EVERY WALK with nature one receives far more than he seeks—John Muir.
A scene at River Bend, looking from the swamp across the prairie to the distant treeline on Sunday afternoon.
Those words, imprinted upon a memorial plaque at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault, hold a depth of meaning worth pondering. To think that every walk outdoors gives us more than we expect, or search out, seems valid. Especially now, during COVID-19, when many of us are rediscovering the beauty and healing power of the natural world.
Even the drying swamp grasses prove beautiful against the autumn sky.
Are you among the many embracing the outdoors with renewed enthusiasm and appreciation? I certainly am.
This is an example of the many beautiful tree-lined streets in Faribault. I shot this along Second Avenue, with Central Park on the left and The Cathedral of Our Merciful Savior on the right.
To the northeast of Cannon City, we stopped along a back gravel road so I could photograph this distant, colorful hillside across acres of ripening corn.
Northbound along Interstate 35 just north of Faribault, leaves are changing color.
Whether walking at a local park or hiking through a nature center or following a city street or driving along a back country road or even traveling along a busy interstate, I feel a heightened sense of gratitude for the sky, the trees, the land, all that surrounds me.
Wildflowers still bloom at River Bend as autumn wanes.
And as autumn presses on toward winter, I also feel an urgency to get outside. On foot before ice and snow pack trails and I feel less secure in my footing. Maybe this will be the winter I buy metal grippers that clamp onto my boots. Maybe this will be the winter I reclaim my youthful enthusiasm for the season.
A prairie plaque honors a volunteer at River Bend.
Many days I long to get away. Away from traffic and noise and busyness and people to the quiet of woods, the silence of the prairie, the peace that nature offers.
Autumn colors trees at River Bend.
There’s so much turmoil now. Too much hatred. Too much dissent and too much untruth and too much of everything that’s mean and unkind and disrespectful of others. I yearn for a world where we all hold genuine compassion and care for one another.
The hole, the decay, in this tree reminds me in some ways of our country right now.
I’ve never, in my sixty-plus decades on this earth, witnessed such chaos, discord, selfishness…
Like these bold berries pop color into the River Bend landscape, we can pop positivity into the world. We can choose to be bold, to stand for decency and the common good.
I have within me the power to act with decency, with empathy, with understanding. With kindness.
North of Faribault along I-35.
To settle my mind into a frame of peacefulness, I embrace prayer and nature. To do so is to receive more than I seek.
Currently, I am reading The Finnish Way: Finding Courage, Wellness, and Happiness Through the Power of Sisu. A friend, who recently moved to the lakes region of central Minnesota, gifted Katja Pantzar’s book to me. I’m only 58 pages into the read. But already the words written therein about the Finns’ resilience and close connection to nature resonate. In two more chapters, I’ll be into “Nature Therapy, The Benefits of a Walk in the Woods.”
In the woods at River Bend…
I don’t expect the contents of that chapter to surprise me. Whether walking in the woods or through a city park, we can benefit from simply being in nature. To feel the warmth of sunshine, to hear the rush of wind through trees, to watch water tumble over rocks, to smell the scent of autumn…all calm the spirit, restore peace, and lift moods. What a gift.
TELL ME: Are you rediscovering nature during COVID-19? If so, in what ways has this helped you deal with the pandemic? What’s your favorite nature spot?
The fighter jet sculpture located at The Owatonna Degner Regional Airport. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo January 2020.
SOME MEMORIES REMAIN, decades after the event, forever seared into our minds. But often they stay in the subconscious, surfacing only when triggered by something heard, seen, smelled, tasted, thought.
I hadn’t thought in a long time about the plane. Until I researched the story behind an airplane sculpture at The Owatonna Degner Regional Airport. I photographed the trio of T-38 Talon Thunderbirds while passing by on Interstate 35 as day broke on a recent Sunday morning.
My mind didn’t shift then to the afternoon decades ago when a fighter jet roared over my childhood farm outside Vesta in Redwood County in southwestern Minnesota. Rather, my thoughts focused on my mom. We were en route to visit her at a care center in Belview.
But now, weeks later, I sorted through photos taken on that 2.5-hour drive and remembered a summer afternoon in the 1960s. I was outside when the fighter jet flew low and fast over the farmyard, causing me to dive under the B Farmall tractor and the cattle to escape their fence. The sight and sound of that plane terrified me. We seldom saw planes, mostly just the trails of invisible or barely visible slivers of silver jets.
To this day, I don’t know from whence that mystery plane came or why the pilot chose to fly at such a low altitude. I can only speculate that he was on a training mission. And why not conduct that in a sparsely-populated area? Never mind the people or livestock.
That experience resurfaced as I sought out info about the three fighter jets artfully positioned at the Owatonna airport. Initially, they stood outside nearby Heritage Halls Museum, now closed. Museum founder and local businessman and pilot, R.W. “Buzz” Kaplan, led efforts to bring the retired U.S. Air Force jets to the area. Eventually the planes would land permanently at the airport, highly-visible to those traveling along the interstate.
Kaplan, on June 26, 2002, died at this very airport after the plane he was piloting, a replica WW I JN-4D “Jenny” biplane, crashed shortly after take-off. This airport has been the site of several fatal crashes, including one in 2008 which claimed eight lives. I hadn’t thought about that crash either, one of the worst in Minnesota, in a long time.
It’s interesting how the split-second decision to photograph a sculpture of three fighter jets along an interstate can trigger-roll into more than simply an image.
Life is that way. Memories, rising in unexpected moments, connecting to today.
TELL ME: Do you have a long ago memory that sometimes surfaces? I’d like to hear your stories and why that memory remains and others don’t.
CLOSED SCHOOLS. Closed Interstate. Crashes and back-ups. All were the result of a winter storm that socked parts of Minnesota today, my community included.
Officials shut down Interstate 35 between Faribault and Medford for hours on Tuesday afternoon into evening following multiple vehicle crashes. Thirty-five, I heard. True? I don’t know. Then the detour route onto a county road was closed after a semi hit a railroad bridge, according to one report I read.
My snowy backyard photographed early Wednesday afternoon as the snow fell.
What a day. Ambulances and police cars screaming by my house along with all that detoured traffic. Snowplows scraping snow that fell at a rapid pace. Snow layering to six inches.
I photographed these crocuses in my front yard flowerbed just days ago. Now they are buried under six inches of snow.
Randy and I just got back inside after clearing heavy wet snow from our driveway and sidewalk and that of a neighbor. This is heart attack snow, thus I paced myself. I’ve had it with winter. Only days ago spring seemed here. Temps in the sixties. Sunny. Lawns hinting at green.
My backyard shortly after the snow began falling Wednesday morning.
And now this, this storm set to linger into Friday. Already winds are picking up. Cold. Biting. Nothing like spring.
Red circles mark road closures in Minnesota as of late morning Sunday. Source: MnDOT 511 website
GOOD MORNING, DEAR READERS,
Here we are, in the midst of another winter storm in southeastern Minnesota. The good news from Faribault: Our snowfall total this morning was not nearly what I expected. About six inches instead of ten. Yahoo. Snow started falling around 6:30 p.m. Saturday and ended sometime early this morning.
I live in town, in a valley. That means my home is sheltered from the brunt of winds that will reach 50 mph this afternoon. Friends who drove into Faribault from the country for 8 a.m. church reported some drifting, but overall decent roads for the weather we’re experiencing.
I expect that to change as the day progresses and wind speeds increase to create drifts and white-out conditions. A blizzard warning remains for southern Minnesota.
Our governor has declared states of emergency in Steele (the neighboring county to my county of Rice) and Freeborn counties.
One look at the Minnesota Department of Transportation website and the severity of this storm and the resulting impossible travels conditions are clear. Every red circle on the map represents a road closure. That includes Interstate 35 from Owatonna to the Iowa border. For awhile the interstate was closed beginning at Faribault. Interstate 90 along the Minnesota-Iowa border. Closed. U.S. Highway 14. Closed. State Highways 60, 30, 15… Closed. I can’t possibly list all of the road closures.
Here’s the deal. Just stay home. It’s not worth risking your life to travel today (outside of city limits) anywhere in southern Minnesota. End of sermon.
TELL ME: If you live in Minnesota, what are conditions like in your area today? Share your weather stories.
A WINTER LANDSCAPE IN RURAL Minnesota can, at first glance, seem visually unappealing. White upon white upon white.
But then a moment happens. A curtain opens in the mind to reveal a scene that holds spectacular beauty.
Stubble pokes through snowy fields. A farm site stands isolated, yet strong, in all that winter vastness. And then, a layer of golden light slips between land and clouds.
The light. The textures. The immensity of the scene. All collide before my eyes, to create a winter photo poem. Beautiful in its complexity. Beautiful in its simplicity. Winter.
I photographed this scene along Interstate 35 somewhere north of Faribault around sunset Saturday.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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