Minnesota Prairie Roots

RAIN DRIPS OFF the roof line, big fat drops plopping onto brown stalks of hydrangea emerging from dormancy into a world reawakening.

April showers bring May flowers. Tulips bloom, replacing the crocuses and daffodils already finished flowering. Fiddleheads pop through the soil, reaching for the sun, unfurling into leafy ferns that bend in the wind. Peony plants push up. Bleeding hearts dangle from stems, strong, yet vulnerable.

This is spring in southern Minnesota, a time of transition, of new growth, new life. Lush. Vivid. Visually-pleasing after months of drab surroundings.

Leaves, only weeks ago tight buds on branches, now color a canopy of green across the land. Spring Snow ornamental crabapple trees scent the air with perfume in a blizzard of blossoms clinging to branches.

There’s so much to take in. So much to experience with all of the senses. The intoxicating scent of apple blossoms, of earth and April rain. The birdsong of early morning. The green, oh, the greenery, everywhere. The furry softness of a fuzzy curled caterpillar found among decaying leaves. The taste of burgers from the grill.

And a poem imprinted in the sidewalk outside an ice arena. Poetry not about icy winter, but about welcoming rain.

April showers bring May flowers. Gardeners tend perennial flowerbeds, plan plantings, shop for annuals, buy flowering baskets. Planters are plumped with fillers, spillers and thrillers.

We Minnesotans thrill in welcoming spring, when rain replenishes a land awakening from yet another winter.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling