Beautiful flowering trees outside the Rice County courthouse, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I’VE NEVER TRAVELED to Washington, DC, thus never seen the masses of cherry blossoms. I’m quite certain I would love them. Flowering trees began blooming here about two weeks ago and I can’t get enough of their beauty.
A young tree outside the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault blooms in late April. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Whether pink or white, the petals add an artistic and poetic touch to the landscape. It’s as if an artist meticulously brushed petals upon a tree. It’s as if a poet wrote lovely words upon apple and ornamental trees, petal by petal.
Against the backdrop of the Guild House at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, a flowering tree buds and blooms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
In poetry, every word counts. In art, every brush stroke matters. On a flowering tree, both create a canopy of loveliness.
Masses of flowers on a tree at the intersection of Third Avenue NW and Fifth Street NW, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo late April 2026)
I don’t paint. But I create with my camera and with words. I write poetry—poetry which has published on the pages of anthologies and literary journals, inspired artists and a musician, graced signs in public places.
At the intersection of First Avenue NW and Sixth Street NW in Faribault, a flowering tree graces a front yard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 28, 2026)
And so I see poetry where others may not. A flowering tree is not simply a tree with flowers. It is a work of literary and visual art. It is a love letter. It is a painting. It is romance. It is a thousand stories. It is more than a tree blushing beauty into the landscape on a spring day.
Sunshine dapples a tree along Third Avenue NW, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo late April 2026)
In residential neighborhoods, in parks and in other spaces, flowering trees bloom poetic verse. Above. And in a carpet of petals upon the ground. I’m inspired to write: Apple blossoms fall/like kisses from their lips/teasing, tempting, tasting/not of promised, forbidden fruit/but of young love blooming.
The Guild House tree in bud and now bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
And so spring seems a time of young love. Of beginnings. Of feeling the heart beat faster.
Trees flower on the back side of Faribault’s Central Park bandshell which features murals honoring the life of Bishop Henry Whipple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Yet spring also celebrates the seasoned love of many years, even decades, together. Love that has seen countless springs of flowering trees blushing beauty into the landscape. For my husband, Randy, and me, 44 years of married life marked on May 15.
Looking up at flowering treetops outside an office building along Third Avenue NW in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
We walk beneath those trees, petals underfoot representing the poetry of days past and those above of poetry yet unwritten.
Lilacs bloom in North Alexander Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
EARLY MAY IN MINNESOTA always appears fresh, vibrant, new.
Biking toward the pedestrian bridge across the Straight River in Teepee Tonka Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
It’s as if our senses have reawakened from hibernation. The landscape looks especially lush. The sun feels warmer. Birdsong sounds louder. And the desire to get outdoors and take it all in runs strong.
A windmill spins at The Crabby Wren barn sale in Cannon City during a vintage shop hop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Mother’s Day weekend brought locals out in droves in the Faribault area, including me. Bikers, hikers, dog walkers, anglers, picnickers, shoppers at a vintage shop hop…
A frog caught along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The river drew many. A father and his young son fished at Two Rivers Park, using chicken skin coated in red Kool-Aid as bait. A young boy snagged a frog along the Cannon River in North Alexander Park where he fished with a friend. Anglers lined the river banks by the two dams near the Faribault Mill.
Six ducklings and their mother swim in the shallow water of the Straight River at Teepee Tonka Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
And some, like me, watched six fluffy ducklings swim against the current and traverse the rocky bed of the Straight River in Teepee Tonka Park as they tried to keep up with their mother. The word “cute” fit.
The Straight River and railroad bridge as photographed on a pedestrian bridge linking Teepee Tonka Park to River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Everywhere Randy and I hiked on this splendid—and, yes, that word fits—Sunday, the essence of spring enveloped us. Wildflowers bloomed. Greenery enveloped us. The water of the Straight River flowed clear below us. Clouds puffed the blue sky.
Maple leaf seed pods against the blue May sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The perfume of lilacs scented the air. Maple leaf seed pods dangled from branches. Maple leaves shadowed a tree trunk.
Teens in the tunnel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
One of several cans of spray paint lying inside the tunnel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Tunnel graffiti. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
And in the shadows of a 442-foot long tunnel leading into River Bend Nature Center, several teens clustered, music blaring. We didn’t walk far enough to see what they were doing, but rather scanned the graffiti covering the walls of this 1937 Works Progress Administration project, built as a root cellar for the former Minnesota School and Colony (state hospital). I’m not informed enough to interpret the art, much of which includes obscene language and unidentifiable symbols. Yet, I found a patch of art that seemed devoid of anything offensive.
Randy climbs partially up a steep flight of stairs in the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
We emerged from the coolness of the tunnel back into woods hugging a steep hill on one side of the trail, the river bottom on the other. A rail line rises high like a wall along a portion of the path. Only later, in another location, did I hear the blast of a train whistle.
Maple leaf shadows on a tree trunk along the Straight River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Even in the quiet of parks and trails, the background of city noise, the presence of people remains. Yet, it’s possible to shut out the distractions, to immerse one’s self in nature.
Nearly camouflaged in the rocky bed of the Straight River, a mama duck and her six babies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I deeply appreciate the trail system, many parks and nature center within the city limits of Faribault. For a while on Mother’s Day afternoon, I observed just how much they are used, valued. To see people out and about like the young boys angling for fish and frogs, the families grilling in the park, the bikers pedaling, the dog owners walking their canines and more, reaffirms the importance of the outdoors to all of us, for our physical and mental well-being. To embrace spring after the season of winter feels good, oh, so good.
Langston Richter looks for birds at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
THEY ARE BIRDERS. I am not. But I love encountering people who are passionate about interests like birding. That would be Tom Boevers and Langston Richter.
A bluebird house photographed during a previous visit to River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The two were walking the trails of River Bend Nature Center in Faribault recently when Randy and I met them along a section of the Prairie Loop. We’d just been talking about bluebirds and Tom, whom we know to be the caretaker of bluebird houses at River Bend.
Bluebird eggs in a nest, as shown to me by Mr. Bluebird, Keith Radel, several years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
And there Tom was, looking for birds with Langston, a Bethlehem Academy senior. Tom shared that he’s tallied five bluebird eggs at his Faribault home and 23 in the nature center this spring. I don’t recall other details. But the pair’s interest, knowledge and ability to spot birds impresses me.
In the jumble of branches, a bird perches. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
As we chatted, Langston suddenly swung his binoculars upward toward the top of a tree. While he spotted a bird immediately, I took much longer to find it camouflaged among the bare branches. I hear plenty of birdsong while hiking at River Bend, but can’t find birds with much ease.
A low-lying nest at River Bend, likely left from last season. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
I suppose good vision, a knowledge of bird species, habits and habitat, plus experience, factor into successful bird watching. These two have all of that down. They met when Langston was volunteering at the senior center and someone, knowing their shared avian interest, connected them.
Tom wears his binoculars, ready to watch birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Both carry binoculars. Langston also brings a camera to photograph birds. And on this afternoon, he sported an eBird cap. Ebird is an online database for logging bird sightings. Later I checked eBird, where Langston noted seeing the following (and more) on April 29 at River Bend: a Virginia Rail, Blue-headed Vireo, Sedge Wren, Marsh Wren, Orange-crowned Warbler and Palm Warbler.
A cardinal, photographed during a past nature center hike. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Now if you’re familiar with those specific birds’ names, you’re smarter than me. I thought a wren was a wren was a wren. Tom and Langston understand otherwise. They are serious birders, who probably wished I would quit talking so they could go about scouting for birds in silence. I appreciated their patience with me.
A bird among pond grass and dried cattails on a previous visit to River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Later, Randy and I connected with them again, this time in the woods. Tom motioned for us to come closer. They’d spotted woodpeckers and some other bird, which I don’t recall. I looked and saw nothing. The guys all saw the birds. Finally, I noticed movement and then a woodpecker. I wished I was closer, quicker and had a longer telephoto lens. Or maybe the patience to stand still and observe.
This bird was easy to see on the end of a branch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Tom and Langston definitely have patience and a certain calmness likely necessary when bird watching. Their love of the outdoors is apparent. It was no surprise then to hear Langston tell of his post high school plans to attend Cornell University in New York and eventually become an environmental lawyer. I have no doubt he will achieve that goal.
Celebrating mom, nature and birds in a memorial plaque. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
As Randy and I continued along Raccoon Trail, Tom and Langston well ahead of us again, I stopped to photograph a memorial stone. The words fit the moment: “It’s for the birds…May all who come here learn to love nature as we did, growing up beneath the spread of her wings.”
Diseased ash attract woodpeckers to peck for bugs below the bark. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
FYI:Several opportunities to learn more about birds are coming up in the area. Those include a campfire program, “Woodpecker Wonders,” from 7-8 p.m. May 30 and a naturalist-led hike, “Birding in the Big Woods,” from 9-10 a.m. May 31, both at Nerstrand Big Woods State Park. Then from 10-11 a.m. June 6, River Bend Nature Center hosts “Bagels & Birds.” Attendees can enjoy coffee and bagels in the Interpretative Center while viewing birds through the Windows on the Wild viewing area.
Petals 2 Metal, a flower shop in Kasson, features a spring message, floral arrangements and salvaged treasures. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
RAIN DRIPS OFF the roof line, big fat drops plopping onto brown stalks of hydrangea emerging from dormancy into a world reawakening.
Tulips about to bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
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.
A flowering crabapple tree at the corner of Fifth St. NW and Fourth Avenue NW in a residential neighborhood near the River Community Church in Faribault.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
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.
Off the grill, a burger topped with peanut butter, blueberry jam, pepperjack cheese and bacon with a side of charred broccoli. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
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.
A poem about rain by Aimee Hagerty Johnson outside the Northfield Ice Arena and part of Northfield’s Sidewalk Poetry Project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
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.
Low-growing spring flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
We Minnesotans thrill in welcoming spring, when rain replenishes a land awakening from yet another winter.
Budding branches on the maple tree in my backyard during a recent sunset of pink sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
HERE IN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA, the greening of the land indicates the beginning of spring’s full-on arrival.
April showers, more like recent deluges of rain, and warmer temperatures have reawakened the earth. Once dormant brown grass now colors lawns greens.
Buds begin to open on lilac bushes at North Alexander Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Buds tip tree branches and bushes, promising canopies of leaves and masses of flowers. I’m waiting for the lilacs to bloom in early May, their heady scent a gift to all of us upon winter’s departure.
A crocus blooms at the Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Garden on the Rice County Fairgrounds, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Crocuses, daffodils and other spring flowers burst through the soil, opening to the sun in a visual splash of color. A jubilant and celebratory scene that shouts happiness.
A Canadian goose swims in the Cannon River at North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Down by the river, geese and ducks share company, prepare for nesting and the arrival of little ones. I wait each spring for the goslings and ducklings. They fill my spirit with the promise of new beginnings. Hope in a world desperately in need of hope.
In the Cannon River, a Canadian goose spreads its wings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Along water’s edge, I simply stand and observe. Waves rippling, wings rising, water flowing under a gray April sky.
Branches on a riverside tree twist and turn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
The day feels unsettled in its unseasonable warmth and humidity as I follow a paved path in Faribault’s North Alexander Park. Past the Cannon River, through the trees, then back to the river, I walk with my husband.
Tagged and planted at North Alexander Park, the True North Kentucky Coffeetree. A flag in the park reads “Tree City USA.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
We pause to look at several newly-planted trees, including a True North Kentucky Coffeetree, developed, I later learn, through the University of Minnesota woody landscape breeding program. We both wondered about the viability of a coffee tree growing in this northern climate.
Measured and compared to a quarter, some of the larger hail that fell at our home on Monday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Hours later, the rain comes. And then the hail. First small, then some larger hailstones, pelt the lawn, the patio, the driveway, the street, the old rusty van. The house. Stones hit the aluminum awning over the back door with an unnerving shot-like bang. Randy and I stand and watch, moving from window to window, hoping the hail doesn’t damage our roof.
Afterwards I head outside to gather a few hailstones in baggies for freezing and measuring. We have yet to inspect for damage. The day after, out-of-town roofing companies are descending on Faribault like birds returning in the spring. There is no birdsong, though, only a circling around.
These Canadian geese stand guard on the bank of the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
With spring comes the greening of grass, the blooming of flowers, the budding of trees, the gathering of waterfowl and the occasional severe storm that moves across the land. Unwelcome, but not unexpected in this season of change.
Crocuses bloom in my flowerbed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
My husband, Randy, follows a paved trail through the woods at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
A WALK INTO THE WOODS of River Bend Nature Center on a near 70-degree late March Sunday afternoon in Faribault yielded glimpses of spring unfolding, ever so slowly.
Patches of greenery emerged among dried and decaying leaves layering the earth. Tightly-clenched red buds tipped some branches. Subtle signs of early spring existed, if I looked closely. And listened.
A cardinal whistled. A woodpecker hammered. Both deep in the woods, unseen, but heard.
A mallard duck swims in the Turtle Pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
At the Turtle Pond, I expected turtles lining logs, basking in the afternoon sunshine. But I spotted only one, slipping into the slimy water before I could even lift my camera to focus a shot. Yet, the pond did not disappoint as a lone mallard duck glided across the shallow water, stopped and stood before swimming again, on toward the floating pedestrian bridge.
A geocache, found without geocaching. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Randy and I paused in the brush near pond’s edge to examine a canister seemingly tossed on the ground. A geocache, perhaps in its proper place, perhaps not. We looked inside, then left it where found.
Lovely aspens cluster in the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I kept scanning the woods for wildflowers (too early), anything that would visually cue me to this season of spring. Finding little, I concentrated on the trees. The texture of bark, which I always find artistically fascinating. A cluster of aspens, a splash of white in the gray woods. Piles and slices of wood from trees cut down.
Signage on the interpretative center door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I observed a scattering of plastic bags attached to trees, collection vessels for sap that will be cooked into maple syrup. The bags proved a conversation starter with a young family who moved here from Iowa a year ago and was on their first hike at River Bend. I love meeting new people. I explained the sap collecting, welcomed them to Faribault. And then the attention quickly turned to the four-year-old, who showed me the gray stone she found, then the faded temporary tattoos laddering her left leg and then her sparkly shoes. She bubbled with joy, only frowning when her mom mentioned her cousins back in Iowa. Cousins she misses and will see at Easter.
I found the bark on the base of this tree visually interesting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Other families and couples and singles hiked here, too, on this loveliest of March days in Minnesota. Others biked. My friend Lisa and her husband, Tom, avid bird watchers who tend bluebird houses at the nature center, warned us about deer ticks after we exchanged personal updates.
The Straight River winds through River Bend, drawing people to its banks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Down by the Straight River, a family played along the shoreline, sunshine sparkling on water. It was so good to see all these families outside, connecting with each other and with nature, away from technology and other distractions of life.
Occasionally a train roars along the tracks that run through River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
A short train roared by across the river, a flash of yellow in the monotone woods.
Lots of people, including this family, were hiking on Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Randy and I passed another young family, two little girls clutching stuffies, a child in a stroller. The eldest ran ahead, her long hair flying. And I remembered the times we came here with our preschool grandchildren who also ran like the wind. Free. Immersed in nature.
Prairie meets sky at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Exiting the woods, we crossed the prairie, its expanse stretching, meeting the sky.
Canadian geese on the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
At prairie’s edge, a pair of geese strode across the dried grasses matted by winter’s snow and wind. Occasionally the two would stop, peck at the grass, searching for food.
I arrived at River Bend wanting to photograph signs of spring. Rather, I mostly heard spring—in a din of spring peepers, in the honk of geese, in other unidentified birds singing. And in the voice of a four-year-old, excited to be out with her parents in the woods. Playing. Searching for stones to take home.
A fitting plaque on a memorial bench. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Sometimes it takes a child to remind us of the smallest joys in life. To appreciate that which is before us rather than wishing for more.
Outside Miss Angie’s Place I found giving shelves, center (filled with books, food, a puzzle and more), free art supplies in a library by the steps and a memorial garden for baby Pearl, right. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Pulling out of the Kwik Trip convenience store in Pine Island recently, flashes of color caught my eye across the street. “What’s that?” I wondered aloud. I was about to discover Miss Angie’s Place.
A close-up of the colorful and inspiring retaining wall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
If not for the colorful painted rock and concrete wall bracing a hillside, I may not have paused to learn more about the nonprofit based in the town’s first church, Grace Episcopal, built in 1874. Good News Evangelical Free Church closed its doors here in 2023, opening the door for Angie Severson to relocate her nonprofit into the vacated building from several blocks away.
Angie Severson, photographed here with a resident rabbit, founded the nonprofit Miss Angie’s Place in 2021. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
This mother of four daughters and a life-long artist, who has worked as a high school art and business teacher and as a graphic designer, offers “a fun, nurturing and safe space to gather and grow for people of all ages through art, nature, education and well-being.” Those define the four pillars of Miss Angie’s Place.
The Giving Shelves outside Miss Angie’s Place. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
That’s exactly what I discovered once I finished exploring outside—looking over the brightly-painted retaining wall with uplifting words, checking out the giving shelves and Little Free Art Supplies Library, and a memorial garden for Angie’s infant daughter, Pearl.
Art posted inside Miss Angie’s Place confirms that all are welcome here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I headed up the steps past a kid’s bike and helmet, passing under signage telling me everyone is welcome and loved, before opening a red door to the vestibule.
A youth services librarian, right, led the literacy and playtime on the morning I visited. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
For a moment I simply stood there, still uncertain what I was walking into. I continued on, through an interior doorway into the former sanctuary. Two young mothers and their children were gathered around a table with paint, pipe cleaners and paper plates, clearly in the middle of creating. This, as it turns out, was a free early literacy and playtime with Angie and Heidi Breid, youth services librarian from the Van Horn Public Library.
These two preschoolers were fascinated with the aquarium, toy lobster and magnifying glass during playtime. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
One of the moms, mother to a preschooler and a newborn, later shared how she appreciates the opportunity to get out of the house with her kids and connect with others.
Measuring devices mingle with frogs for play on the aged wooden floor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
This space, this place, still feels like a sanctuary in many ways as people gather in community. For nearly 150 years, people walked across the well-worn wooden floors, gathering to grieve, to celebrate, to seek sanctuary.
Exploring and playing on a recent Thursday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
It feels right that this former house of worship today offers a safe haven, a sanctuary, for all ages to create, learn, connect, meditate and more. Here young moms come with their littles, school-aged kids create art and explore nature, youth attend summer day camps focused on kindness, gardening, fishing, art and much more. Adults practice yoga and attend wellness retreats.
Among the many art supplies available for creating. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
A stash of books I spotted. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Cozy seating. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
In a short conversation with Angie, I learned of her passion for this place she’s created and filled with art supplies, books, nature finds, toys, aquariums, cozy seating and much more in a truly welcoming, creative and joyful learning environment.
Looking toward the front of the former church, now a spacious space for gathering, creating and more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
An artsy backpack hangs just inside the front entry door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Donation jars and boxes are scattered throughout Miss Angie’s Place to help support the nonprofit. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
When someone does what they love, it shows. From her vibrant tie-dyed sweatshirt, to her engaging smile, to the way Angie cuddled the resident rabbit, she exuded a sense of purpose and joy. I watched her interact with preschoolers, bending to their level, encouraging, connecting.
A mom, her preschooler and infant leave the early literacy and playtime at Miss Angie’s Place. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Miss Angie’s Place is, indeed, “a fun, nurturing and safe space to gather and grow.” It is the type of place I delight in discovering in small town Minnesota. Unexpected. Connective. Creative. And centered in community.
Sunset at City View Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
RED WING HAS BARN BLUFF. Winona has Sugar Loaf Bluff. And Faribault has City View Park.
The color of the sky is ever changing during sunset. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Now a park may not sound as impressive as a bluff. But the view from City View Park on my community’s east side is pretty spectacular. Plus, driving or walking to the street level location is much easier than climbing a bluff, making the park easily accessible to all.
I zoomed in on the clock tower at Shumway Hall on the campus of Shattuck-St. Mary’s School. City View Park offers a great view of the historic building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
I consider this park one of Faribault’s best kept secrets. It provides a sweeping view of the valley with local landmarks poking through the landscape. Like the clock tower on Shumway Hall at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School. Or buildings on the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf. Seeing those steepled and towering buildings conveys a sense of history in a community rich in historic structures.
Trees on the edge of the hill at City View Park frame the valley and the sunset. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
From this hilltop location, the land unfolds, touches the sky, connects to a beautiful city below. Any season of the year, this park offers a lovely vista. I’ve picnicked at City View Park in three seasons. Watched fireworks here on the Fourth of July. And in the winter photographed the most stunning sunsets. Orange. Pink. Red. Yellow.
A prairie sunset photographed from Minnesota State Highway 67 between Redwood Falls and Morgan in my home county. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I am, by birth, a flatlander, a daughter of the southwestern Minnesota prairie. There the horizon seemingly stretches into infinity across the wide open, mostly treeless landscape. That presents an ideal stage to spotlight the sun. Painterly sunrises and sunsets and the endless prairie wind are forever imprinted upon my spirit.
Sometimes I just sit on the bench and be still. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Since moving to Faribault some 40 years ago, I’ve lived in the valley, sunsets hidden by the hillside that rises next to my home. I miss seeing the setting sun on a daily basis as I did during my youth. Now I must intentionally seek out the blazing orange orb rather than simply looking across the farmyard.
A city water tower stands right next to the park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
That sometimes takes me up St. Paul Avenue to City View Park, next to the water tower and across from Trump’s Apple Orchard.
The painterly sunset mesmerizes me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
As I walk toward the edge of the hill to look across the valley, I feel small in the immensity of place. Distant landmark buildings ground me. But the view always, always fills me up with a sense of wonder at the majesty of the land, the glory of the sun, the forever of the sky.
Walking along the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park on a recent winter day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
WITH WINTER OFFICIALLY LAUNCHED, it’s easy enough to stay home, settle in, curl up with a good book and avoid the ice, cold and snow that define Minnesota weather in January. When winter burrows in, I’m more inclined to hibernate. But I push myself to get out. It’s good for my physical, mental and emotional health.
An extensive city trail system runs throughout Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Faribault offers plenty of options for aging Baby Boomers like me and others who simply want to take a walk. On the worst of winter days, I can loop around the soccer field at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, which opens its dome to the public most weekday mornings (except holidays) from November into early spring. Hours vary, but generally run from around six-ish to 9:30 am.
The Straight River Trail stretches before me in the area known as Frog Town. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
And when I want to be outdoors, the city’s paved recreational trails are usually cleared, allowing me to safely immerse myself in nature. There’s something about walking outdoors at a brisk pace on a cold winter day that invigorates.
Even in the drab winterscape, color can be found, such as in these dried berries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Sometimes, though, I opt to carry my camera and focus on the environment rather than upping my heart rate. Photography improves my well-being, too, because I begin to notice nature’s details in a mostly monochrome landscape. Winter’s beauty emerges. And that is good for my spirit, my soul, my creativity.
The Straight River is anything but straight as it winds between woods and bluffs in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
I especially delight in following the Straight River Trail because water, whether frozen or flowing free, mesmerizes me. I think humans have always been drawn to water. Near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park, the Straight River curves, winding through the woods, under the railroad bridge, along the bluffs.
Barely discernible, a temporary riverside shelter in the woods near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
On a recent afternoon along the trail, with Canon camera in hand, I spotted a flash of red across the river in the woods. From a distance and through the trees, I couldn’t clearly distinguish details. But I knew this was a temporary shelter for someone without a permanent home. I saw a person shoveling snow.
Tangled twigs along the Straight River Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
And I thought of my poem, “Misunderstood,” inspired by a previous walk along the Straight River Trail. That poem published in 2024 in Talking Stick 33, Earth Signs, a Minnesota literary anthology:
Misunderstood
Tents cluster along the Straight River,
home to the homeless on land
once held by the Wahpekute.
History and hardship merge here
in long-ago and present-day stories.
Bison skin tipis and nylon tents.
Different times. Different peoples.
Drawn to the water, the sheltering woods.
Misunderstood then. Misunderstood now.
This homemade trail sign, screwed to a tree along the Straight River Trail in Frog Town, leads to a path beaten through the snow. I did not follow the unofficial trail, not this time. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Getting outdoors feeds my creativity. If not for that walk and my knowledge of Faribault history, I would not have crafted that poem about the Dakota and those experiencing homelessness today in my community. I observe, photograph, write, creating photos and stories that need to be shared.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Courageous crocuses April 9, 2026
Tags: blossoms, cold, commentary, crocus, crocuses, flowers, Minnesota, nature, seasons, spring, spring flowers, winter
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling