Blowing snow reduces visibility during a prior winter storm in Rice County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
AS I WRITE this Tuesday afternoon, a sense of foreboding looms. Grey, with a tinge of otherworldly light, defines the sky. Branches of bare trees lean. Unbalanced. Darkness encroaches, presses upon the earth with an anticipatory heaviness. By the time you read this, my area of southern Minnesota will be under siege with a full-blown blizzard. Unless the weather forecasters are wrong.
But this time the forecast of up to eight inches of snow with wind gusts topping 55 mph seems likely. I’ve already asked Randy to stay home from work because driving 24 miles in white-out conditions would not be smart. Or safe. The National Weather Service warns of treacherous travel, potentially life-threatening conditions. Power lines and trees laden with heavy wet snow could snap.
The weather rather matches my mood. I feel a sense of foreboding on so many levels. I struggle sometimes to see the light for the grey skies, for the oppressiveness that prevails. I wonder what will happen next. What storm is brewing?
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
During a weather event, I can prepare. Take precautions. Buy bread and milk (note I didn’t write, “buy eggs”). Stay home. Shelter in place. Face whatever comes. I’ve lived through blizzards, wind storms and even a tornado. I am a hardy American who happens to live in Minnesota, next to our wonderful Canadian neighbors.
And so that is the approach I must take. Stand strong against the negative forces. Speak up. Continue to show compassion, care, kindness, love. Hold hope. Understand that blizzards don’t last forever, although this one seems never-ending.
A city of Faribault snowplow hits the road during a past winter storm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Every single snowplow matters in removing burdensome snow from roadways. Imagine what a fleet of snowplows can do against the deepest snow drifted by raging winds. I’ve seen the results. Roads are cleared. The snow melts. The sun shines. Winter ends. The trees bud green. That is my visual hope during these grey days tinged with an otherworldly light.
TWO DECIDEDLY WINTER EVENTS are happening in my area of southern Minnesota this weekend. First up, the Faribault Flannel Formal from 5-10 p.m. Saturday, March 1, at the Craft Beverage Curve in Faribault. There is a cost to attend.
This mural based on an historic photo of skating on the Straight River hangs on the side of 10,000 Drops Distillery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2019)
Minnesotans’ love of flannel will focus this fun gathering inside the complex housing 10,000 Drops Craft Distillers and Corks & Pints at 28 NE 4th Street. Although I’ve never attended, because a noisy, packed setting is difficult for me to manage, I know it’s a popular event.
So what’s on the schedule? Well, there’s a Best Dressed Lumber Jack and Jane contest. That means attendees should arrive dressed in their best Paul Bunyan style attire with plenty of buffalo plaid flannel. Minnesota embraces the legendary lumberjack and his sidekick, Babe the Blue Ox.
Tater Tot Hotdish advertised on a sandwich board outside an eatery in Belview in southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
But the competition doesn’t stop there. A Hotdish (not casserole) Contest and sampling of hotdish entries is another Flannel Formal staple. Tater Tot Hotdish and Chicken Wild Rice Hotdish are Minnesota favorites, although certainly entries are not limited to those two.
I expect there will be other competitions, although those are not specifically listed in promotional information. Raffles are. And so is music by North Branch-based Buffalo Alice, a band that plays a unique blend of classic rock and country.
Pull out the original or updated (pictured here) version of “How to Talk Minnesotan” by Howard Mohrto brush up on the Minnesota Language Systems. (Book cover sourced online)
I’d encourage you, if you plan to attend, to brush up on your Minnesota Speak. Drag out your looooong o’s. Practice phrases like “that’s different” and “you betcha!” And, of course, say a long Minnesota goodbye when you leave the Formal.
(Promo courtesy of the Valley Grove Preservation Society)
On Sunday, March 2, head over to the Nerstrand area for a 1-3 p.m. free Doughnut Hole Roasting Party at the historic Valley Grove Churches. This hilltop setting, 9999 155th St. East, is perhaps my favorite rural location in Rice County because of its beautiful natural setting and peacefulness. Plus, I love the two historic churches there.
A favorite photo I took of the Valley Grove churches. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
The Valley Grove Preservation Society Board will have a bonfire roaring for the doughnut holes they will provide along with roasting sticks. Just bring a chair, your own warm drinks and dress weather appropriately. I’d encourage wandering around the cemetery and walking on the prairie along with connecting with people passionate about preserving these Norwegian immigrant churches and the land surrounding them.
I’ve never attended this novel party, but would like to sometime.
There you go. Two places. Two events. Two reasons to get out of the house on the first two days of March in southern Minnesota.
Randy holds a Peanut Buster Parfait purchased during a previous visit to The Little DQ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
SPRING HAS UNOFFICIALLY ARRIVED in Faribault. The Little DQ opened this past weekend. And that, in my community, signals closing the door on winter and cracking it open to spring. Never mind that winter can continue well into April, sometimes even May, here in the North. But let’s not consider that possibility. There are enough other things to feel pessimistic about right now.
Sunday evening Randy and I drove across town to the local walk-up/drive-up Dairy Queen for the $2.49 Peanut Buster Parfait opening weekend special. That’s always the bargain treat when The Little DQ opens at the end of February and then closes in October.
Since these are typically the only two times we go to DQ in a year, I was excited to get this fudgy, salty, sweet treat. We pulled up around 8 pm, surprised not to see a line of vehicles. But then again it was the end of the weekend, the hours winding down to the 10 pm closing.
A friendly voice greeted us over the intercom as Randy ordered two Peanut Buster Parfaits. “We’re out of peanuts,” the teen on the other end told us. “You can substitute something else.”
Not a Peanut Buster Parfait, but an M & M Parfait. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
After some grumbling between us, we settled on M & Ms as a peanut replacement. I was too surprised to fully consider other options. My mind was fixated on peanuts because a Peanut Buster Parfait is simply not a Peanut Buster Parfait without the peanuts.
We both shared the thought that employees of The Little DQ could have sourced peanuts from the next door convenience store, a grocery store across the highway or even the other DQ down the road. Never mind. It was just an idea.
And so we ate our minimally fudgy M & M Parfaits and reminisced about the other time we arrived at The Little DQ to order Peanut Buster Parfaits on closing weekend. “We’re out of ice cream,” said the voice on the other end of the intercom. At least this time we got ice cream.
The audience settles in as Nancy Vaillancourt, center, is about to begin her presentation, “Minnesota’s Hooded History.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025; all photos taken with my smartphone)
NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED in 100 years. That summarizes my thoughts after attending a talk, “Minnesota’s Hooded History—The Ku Klux Klan in 1920s Minnesota,” followed by a Q & A Thursday evening at my local library. Hate groups still exist in America, just with different names, different targets, different locations, different levels of participation.
But the core ideology of these groups, based on what I heard and what I’ve read, remains unchanged. The same in 1925 as in 2025. Historian and retired librarian Nancy Vaillancourt could have been talking about current day America when she shared her research into the KKK in Minnesota. The KKK professed a strong Christian faith, patriotism, Americanism, American ideals and more as they targeted first Blacks, then Catholics, Jews and others, including immigrants. Sound familiar? Today this hatred and intolerance is coming not only from organized hate groups, but also from individuals and from people in positions of power.
Faribault hosted the first state Klan convention, with details outlined in this slide presented by Nancy Vaillancourt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Back to Vaillancourt’s presentation Thursday evening. About 100 attendees packed the Great Hall meeting room at Buckham Memorial Library to capacity in a city which hosted Minnesota’s first state Klan convention in August 1924. Klan members from 69 cities and towns attended the event at the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault with the KKK claiming 2,500 in attendance. A publication noted fewer than half that number actually attended. Inflated crowd numbers. Sound familiar?
Nancy Vaillancourt displays an authentic Klan hood given to her by a woman from Blooming Prairie. She warned audience members that some items she would be showing may be disturbing and that they could step out if necessary. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Certainly, hosting a state KKK convention is not a proud moment in a city’s history. But it is history none-the-less and important to know. We cannot deny our past, even if hurtful and painful and awful. And Vaillancourt revealed plenty of hurt and hate as she presented, focusing on the KKK in my region of southern Minnesota. She confirmed the presence of Klan chapters in nearly 60 Minnesota counties at one time. Groups of men, women and sometimes children who, in their hooded coverings, spewed hatred and intolerance while waving American flags and singing “Onward Christian Soldiers.”
Cross burnings occurred in Faribault, (including on the bluffs below St. Mary’s Hall), Stockton, Red Wing, Winona and other locations cited not only by Vaillancourt, but by audience members. Like Teresa, whose husband’s grandmother had a cross burned in her yard near Waterford (outside Northfield) because she was Catholic. Klan hatred toward Catholics was particularly strong in 1920s Minnesota.
A Catholic mother, who had just given birth, watched as the KKK paraded past the Owatonna hospital while en route from the Steele County Fairgrounds to Central Park during the state Klan convention in 1926. Can you imagine the fear she felt? Not unlike the fear targeted groups of people are experiencing today in this country.
Sounds like a deceptively wholesome gathering at the Klan Park in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Because Vaillancourt is from Owatonna, much of her talk focused on that community just south of Faribault along Interstate 35. Owatonna, it seems, was a hotbed of Klan activity, hosting local and state gatherings. But the fact that stood out for me was the Klan’s purchase of 20 acres of land east of downtown Owatonna. That land became Klan Park, a place to gather, organize and socialize. The local chapter even constructed a meeting house there. While it is disheartening to hear this, it was uplifting to learn that the land was sold in 1945—to a man whose wife was Catholic. Attendee Bonnie shared that bit of information about her great uncle, who was invited to join the Klan, declined because of his wife’s Catholicism and then eventually bought the land. Today that former KKK park is the site of soccer practice fields, Vaillancourt noted, where a diverse group of youth play.
Vaillancourt covered a whole lot more in her presentation. Like how the Klan recruited from fraternal orders, Protestant churches, via fiery speeches, by invitation. Fear and social and economic pressure were used to draw people into the Klan. Sound familiar? In Virginia, in northern Minnesota, the entire school board claimed Klan membership and made Bible reading in school compulsory. The mayor of St. James was a major grand dragon of the KKK. The Northfield Klan hosted a KKK homecoming Labor Day parade in September 1926. The Klan was big on parades. That makes sense given the intimidation and fear a mass of hooded marchers can instill in the public. And Owatonna residents were afraid, Vaillancourt said.
A powerful editorial from a southeastern Minnesota newspaper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2025)
Yet, there were individuals—like Bonnie’s great uncle—organizations and media who resisted and challenged the Klan. The NAACP, the National Vigilance Association, the Knights of Columbus… Vaillancourt specifically noted the Catholic-based KC group for effectively exposing Klan members in a community.
This gives me hope, when I hear of media, individuals and organizations that stood up and refused to accept hatred and intolerance. It gives me hope, too, when members of my community turn out in strong numbers to learn about “Minnesota’s Hooded History.” Knowledge is powerful. It gives me hope, too, when someone like Nancy Vaillancourt cares, researches and shares because, she says, she wants “to get the truth out.” Even while some still deny it.
A photo gallery exhibit, “Testify—Americana Slavery to Today, The Diane and Alan Page Collection,” will be displayed in the hallway connecting Buckham Memorial Library and the Faribault Community Center from April 1-23. The exhibit will also be at other libraries throughout the Southeastern Libraries Cooperating (SELCO) system.
The “Minnesota’s Hooded History” program was made possible with support from Minnesota’s Arts and Cultural Heritage Library Legacy Fund and SELCO.
I recently finished this book about slavery, freedom and abolition. A must-read. (Book cover sourced online)
DURING THIS, BLACK HISTORY MONTH, I’ve intentionally read books about slavery, Black people and the Black experience. It’s important to me that I widen my knowledge and understanding. Many of the stories are heartbreaking, almost unbelievable in the mental and physical cruelty inflicted upon Blacks. This is hard stuff to read. But it is in the hard stuff that we begin to fully comprehend the importance of empathy, kindness, compassion and the need to stand strong against that which is hateful, hurtful and oppressive.
This book resonates with me personally and professionally in telling the story of 1940s world famous photographer Roy DeCarava, unknown to me until I read this book. Trained in the arts and in photography, he would go on to photograph everyday life in his native Harlem via work for the Works Progress Administration Project, fellowships and more. He worked as a photographer for major publications, has/had his photos featured in exhibits and art museums, became an art professor… And he was Black.
But what I love most about this story is that DeCarava aimed to photograph everyday life, everyday scenes, everyday people in the streets of Harlem. He shows life in raw reality. He worked back in the days of film, admittedly much more challenging than shooting with a digital camera. I started with film, too. You often get only one chance to take a photo. No firing off shots. No digital manipulation. Just a single, unedited print.
I took this portrait, one of my favorites, nearly 11 year ago at International Festival Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)
I will never match the talent of DeCarava. But I do share his focus. I also aim to photograph the ordinary, the everyday, right where I live (or mostly in southern Minnesota). Like him, I notice details. The light. The moments. The expressions. The people, scenes, settings and events that define a place. The anything that might make for an interesting photo.
Unlike DeCarava, my roots are rural. I’ve only ever been to New York City once, while in college. I was awed by the skyscrapers, the street vendors, Chinatown and men hurrying along Wall Street in leisure suits. (This was in 1977.) But I have no desire to return to a place that feels too closed in, too busy, too chaotic.
My photo of Jane chalking art on a Faribault sidewalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
Yet, Harlem in Upper Manhattan was DeCarava’s home, where he found the subjects of his photos. Everywhere Beauty Is Harlem gives a snapshot of the images this photographer snapped. A man on the subway. A boy drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. Black and brown children dancing in water spraying from a fire hydrant.
Beyond the visuals, the story in this children’s picture book encompasses the essence of DeCarava’s photographic focus on the everyday and the ordinary. I really ought to buy a copy of this book for my personal library. If you want to understand my photographic work, then read this multi award-winning children’s picture book. But, more importantly, read this book to learn about a world famous Black photographer whose talent for visual storytelling is a gift to all of us. To see the world through his eyes presents life as it is. Real. Raw. Unedited.
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FYI: I encourage you to also check out the photography of New York City photographer Keith Goldstein, whose work I follow on his blog, “For Earth Below.” His street photography has opened my eyes to humanity in a way that I never see here in southern Minnesota. His talent is remarkable. Goldstein, I think, works much like Roy DeCarava did, with his camera focused on the everyday, the ordinary. And therein both have found the extraordinary.
A photo I took of a sharing library in Pine River, Minnesota, prompted me to write this essay. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
IF I WAS A REBEL, and I’m not (although a streak of defiance runs through my veins), I’d write a strongly opinionated piece on a controversial topic.
But I don’t like conflict. I prefer status quo to chaos, normalcy to the unexpected. Yet, that is not reality. Life can be easy and hard and good and awful and a whole mix of everything. Sort of like Sideways Arithmetic from Wayside School. I like school. Never liked math.
Nor do I particularly like William Shakespeare’s work with the exception of Romeo and Juliet. Who doesn’t love a love story, even if tragic? Shakespeare’s other writing seems archaic, boring and impossibly unrelatable. I offer no apologies for that view.
I am decidedly a fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder, who certainly has her critics, too. But her detail-rich writing in Little House in the Big Woods, On the Banks of Plum Creek, Little Town on the Prairie and more inspires me as a writer. Plus, I grew up some 25 miles from Walnut Grove, smack dab in the middle of the Minnesota prairie. When you live in a land of wide open spaces, big skies and sweeping winds, you approach writing from a detailed perspective that engages all the senses.
I can’t make much sense of sweeping Absolute Power, which has nothing to do with the senses. Not common sense anyway. Common sense tells me Spider Man is not real. Nor are heroes of the Justice League. Yet, I’d like to call in Superman, Wonder Woman and other superheroes to tackle the threats facing us today, and save the day.
Or perhaps strong-willed orphan Sally Lockhart of The Ruby in the Smoke could clear the smoke obscuring vision. Her experiences dealing with unseemly types qualifies her, in my opinion, to take on anything. Like uncovering lies, aggression, narcissism, manipulation and diversionary tactics. I appoint her to abolish the Department of Government E, or something like that, for starters.
Yes, there’s lots to contemplate. But today I’ve escaped to the sharing library, visually pulled a few books from the shelf to create this essay. And if nothing I’ve written resonates with you, then consider Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers. Head to the lake with a container of nightcrawlers, drop your baited line in the open water or drill a hole in the ice. Fish for answers. Good luck.
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NOTE: I’ve underlined the titles of books from the sharing library which I’ve incorporated into this essay.This essay is not the piece I wrote for the contest I referenced here last week.
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.
Vintage valentines from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVE. It’s today’s buzzword, the reason behind Valentine’s Day, the universal day of love.
But let’s look beyond the romantic version of love connected to this day. Let’s look at who and what we love. Be specific. I’ll start. In the process, I expect you will learn a bit more about me.
First, I love my family. Obvious, right? Specifically, those dearest to me are my core family of Randy, Amber, Miranda, Caleb, Marc, John, Isabelle, Isaac and Everett. I should note here that my grandson Everett was born just a month ago, widening the circle of our family. I am happiest when we are all together. That last happened in August. Distance separates us and I’m talking Minnesota to Wisconsin to Massachusetts.
I also love my friends. I won’t name them. There are too many. But I feel grateful for friendship, including those who have become friends via the blogging world.
A positive message on a SCRABBLE board at LARK Toys, Kellogg, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
TRAITS I LOVE IN PEOPLE
As long as we’re talking people, here are the traits I love, or most value, in individuals. Empathy, compassion and kindness. Honesty. And the ability to listen. I can’t even begin to tell you how often people turn a conversation around to focus on themselves. Just don’t.
Autumn leaves in the Cannon River at the Cannon River Wilderness Park, Rice County, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVIN’ GREEN, NATURE & MORE
I love the color green. Always have. My eyes are green, a rarity in eye color. Green is also the hue of nature, another reason to like it.
I love when spring pops green in a shade that is indescribably vibrant. But I also love autumn, my favorite season actually, with its flaming treelines, its cobalt skies, its crisp air, its cooler days. I can bring out the flannel shirts then. I love flannel. Fashionista I am not. I could care less if my clothes are “in style” or not. I go for comfort. Flannel and boot-cut blue jeans, which I hear are now back in vogue due to a certain rapper performing during half-time of the Super Bowl. (Did anyone understand what he was saying? I didn’t.)
Rap is definitely not my style. But I love oldies music, oldies meaning songs from the 1970s by groups like Chicago, Bread and the Eagles. I also enjoy listening to contemporary Christian music on Twin Cities-based KTIS radio.
I typed a message on a vintage typewriter in a Hastings, Minnesota, antique shop many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
FOR THE LOVE OF CREATIVITY
I prefer quiet, though, to music. Quiet allows me to write, which I absolutely love. No surprise there. I love the process, the way words flow and meld into something that becomes something. Something that holds meaning, entertains, fills me with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. I feel the same about photography. I love to read, too, especially mysteries or books that enlighten me.
A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County in my native southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LOVIN’ A WHOLE LOT MORE IN LIFE
This list of “loves” is getting lengthy, so here are some other random things I love: country drives along back gravel roads, visiting small towns, garage sales and thrift shops, art, time at the Horseshoe Lake cabin (not ours, but belonging to family), campfires, water rushing over rocks, vintage tablecloths and drinking glasses, the prairie, the woods, lilacs and zinnias.
Zinnias, a great cut, easy-to-grow-from-seed colorful flower that reminds me of Mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Whatever and whomever you love (feel free to share a few of your “loves” here), may you feel embraced by love, especially today. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Polls closed last Friday with 23,400 people voting for up to eight names on a list of 50. That was narrowed from some 7,300 submissions.
A snowplow in my native southwestern Minnesota will now bear the name spun off from a line in “The Wizard of Oz” starring native Minnesotan Frances Gumm, aka Judy Garland. Her hometown of Grand Rapids (Minnesota, not Michigan) is located in MnDOT’s District 1 on the northeastern side of our state. A plow in that region will be tagged SKOL Plow, a tribute to the Scandinavian cheer chant for the Minnesota Vikings. That name came in at number seven in the polls.
Here in southeastern Minnesota, Plowbunga! will now mark one of MnDOT’s big orange snowplow trucks. Does that reference Cowabunga! of “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” fame? I think so. My girls loved those cartoon superheroes, turtles in a half shell. Plowabunga! was the third top vote-getter.
Coming in second was Snowtorious B.I.G., which totally baffled me. So I googled and found connections to snow, drugs and sweaters.
Anthony Sledwards also had me stumped. Turns out Anthony Edwards is a star basketball player for the Minnesota Timberwolves. That explains it. I don’t watch sports. Travel in the Twin Cities metro and you will soon see Anthony Sledwards plowing snow.
The original version of “How to Talk Minnesotan,” published in the 1980s, is a primer to Minnesota language. (Book cover sourced online)
The fifth and sixth place winners, You’re Welcome and Don’tcha Snow, honor Minnesota Speak, phrases (or versions of) spoken by Minnesotans. Don’tcha know?
Rounding out the top ten is I Came, I Thaw, I Conquered, which will go on a plow in District 7, South Central Minnesota.
So there you go. How did I do with my picks? Three of my eight choices—We’re Off to See the Blizzard, SKOL Plow and Catch My Drift (#9 and which I really really like)—finished in the top ten.
I’m not sayin’ take me to Jackpot Junction, Mystic Lake, Treasure Island or any other casino in Minnesota because I’m not that good at picking winners. But I am sayn’ this annual contest is a whole lot of fun and certainly breaks up a long Minnesota winter.
A poem on a sign outside Kenyon Meats. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)
ROSES ARE RED/SO IS MEAT/POEMS ARE HARD/BACON.
It’s not exactly the most romantic version of the traditional ROSES ARE RED poem. But it’s certainly one of the most humorous spin-offs I’ve seen. I love this poem spotted last fall outside a small town southern Minnesota Meat Market, Kenyon Meats.
Roses my husband previously gifted to me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
It seems appropriate to share this poem now, during Valentine’s week. Maybe your sweetheart would welcome a package of jerky from the meat locker. Or your poetic version of ROSES ARE RED with a side of bacon.
The unassuming building that houses Kenyon Meats. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The market sits just off Minnesota State Highway 60, a major route running right through the heart of Kenyon’s several-block business district. The roadside messages posted on the meat market sign are enough to turn heads. And elicit laughter.
More humorous signage… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I’ve also read this on the two-sided Kenyon Meats sign: SMOKE MEAT/NOT METH.
And more words to make you laugh. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
And then there’s this one: DON’T FRY/BACON NAKED.
Obvious good advice aside, I truly appreciate the attention-grabbing humorous writing. Short enough to read while driving by. Clever. Funny. What a great marketing tool, especially with a meat reference included in the wordage.
Randy grills meat and vegetables year-round, yes, even in the Minnesota winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The words drew me to photograph the scene while my husband, who likes home-grown meat markets, stepped inside to buy flavored brats. Randy loves meat (and grilling meats) as much as I love vegetables.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Ah, love. It’s in the air this week. From poetry to flowers to chocolate to dinner out, love prevails. Even at the meat market.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Raging blizzards March 5, 2025
Tags: America, analogy, blizzard, commentary, Minnesota, opinion, snow, weather, winter storm
AS I WRITE this Tuesday afternoon, a sense of foreboding looms. Grey, with a tinge of otherworldly light, defines the sky. Branches of bare trees lean. Unbalanced. Darkness encroaches, presses upon the earth with an anticipatory heaviness. By the time you read this, my area of southern Minnesota will be under siege with a full-blown blizzard. Unless the weather forecasters are wrong.
But this time the forecast of up to eight inches of snow with wind gusts topping 55 mph seems likely. I’ve already asked Randy to stay home from work because driving 24 miles in white-out conditions would not be smart. Or safe. The National Weather Service warns of treacherous travel, potentially life-threatening conditions. Power lines and trees laden with heavy wet snow could snap.
The weather rather matches my mood. I feel a sense of foreboding on so many levels. I struggle sometimes to see the light for the grey skies, for the oppressiveness that prevails. I wonder what will happen next. What storm is brewing?
During a weather event, I can prepare. Take precautions. Buy bread and milk (note I didn’t write, “buy eggs”). Stay home. Shelter in place. Face whatever comes. I’ve lived through blizzards, wind storms and even a tornado. I am a hardy American who happens to live in Minnesota, next to our wonderful Canadian neighbors.
And so that is the approach I must take. Stand strong against the negative forces. Speak up. Continue to show compassion, care, kindness, love. Hold hope. Understand that blizzards don’t last forever, although this one seems never-ending.
Every single snowplow matters in removing burdensome snow from roadways. Imagine what a fleet of snowplows can do against the deepest snow drifted by raging winds. I’ve seen the results. Roads are cleared. The snow melts. The sun shines. Winter ends. The trees bud green. That is my visual hope during these grey days tinged with an otherworldly light.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling