Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

An eye for eagles July 22, 2025

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The bald eagle I saw nearby within hours of arriving at a central Minnesota lake cabin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

LAST SUMMER, LOON sightings proved common at a family member’s lake cabin south of Crosslake in north central Minnesota. This summer, not so much. While Randy and I heard the haunting call of loons during a recent stay, we only saw them twice—once a threesome swimming near shore and then two flying westward before a thunderstorm rolled in.

But bald eagle sightings more than made up for the absence of loons. We’d been at the cabin only hours when one swooped onto the top of a towering pine near the patio where we were enjoying late afternoon drinks with my sister-in-law. Randy pulled out his cellphone to snap a few photos. I stayed put since my 35 mm camera was back at the cabin. I reasoned that, by the time I walked to the cabin and back, the eagle would have flown away. That’s my usual luck.

And so we continued to chat and catch up on family news, the eagle all the while perched atop the tree like some silent eavesdropper. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I headed to the cabin for my Canon, cautiously optimistic that the eagle would still be in the tree upon my return. It was.

Wings spread wide, the bald eagle lifts off from the treetop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

I moved slowly away from the patio, pine tree and eagle in view, aimed my telephoto lens skyward and snapped a single frame before the eagle lifted off. I can only surmise that my camera lens appeared threatening to the observant bird with exceptional vision. An eagle can see an animal the size of a rabbit running from three miles away, according to the Wabasha-based National Eagle Center.

Nine minutes later, that same eagle was back, but in a different pine near the lake and on the other side of the patio. Once again, I managed one photo before the majestic bird took flight.

Two symbols of America: the flag and a bald eagle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

I never tire of seeing eagles, whether flying or statue still. They are truly majestic. Regal. Commanding respect. And they are our national bird, a designation officially signed into law on December 23, 2024.

Throughout our week-long cabin stay, I observed bald eagles flying above Horseshoe Lake multiple times. Sometimes high above the water. Other times descending toward the surface, fishing for fish. I hoped I would see a fish grasped in eagle talons. I didn’t. Nor did I see the eagles any closer than that first afternoon at the lake.

On the drive back to Faribault, Randy and I spotted many eagles soaring above the land, especially around Mille Lacs Lake. I couldn’t help but think of the eagle’s spiritual and cultural importance among Native Americans. Strength. Courage. Wisdom. All are equated with eagles.

A bald eagle flies over Horseshoe Lake in the Brainerd lakes area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

This wondrous national bird is so common now that I’m no longer surprised when I see one flying in and around Faribault or elsewhere in Rice County or in Minnesota. Yet, despite frequent sightings, I never tire of seeing a bald eagle. There’s something about this bird with an average wingspan of 6-7 ½ feet, piercing eyes and curved beak that makes me pause, take notice and appreciate their fierce, unyielding strength and beauty.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In praise of monarchs, milkweeds & fireflies July 16, 2025

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A monarch butterfly feeds on a milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ON A RECENT AFTERNOON, I looked up from washing dishes and out the kitchen window to see a solitary monarch butterfly flitting among milkweeds. Something as common as a butterfly remains, for me, one of summer’s simplest delights. Along with milkweeds and fireflies.

A monarch caterpillar on milkweed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

This year I have a bumper crop of milkweed plants growing in and along flowerbeds and retaining walls. I stopped counting at 24 plants. I have no idea why the surge in milkweeds. But I am happy about their abundance given monarchs need milkweed. It is the only plant upon which the monarch lays eggs and the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars.

A crop of milkweeds in a public garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

My farmer dad, if he was still alive, would likely offer a different opinion about milkweeds. As children, my siblings and I walked rows of soybean fields eradicating milkweeds, thistles and the notorious cocklebur. This was called “walking beans,” a job that we hated, but was necessary to keep fields mostly weed-free without the use of chemicals.

I never considered then that I might some day appreciate milkweeds, the “weed” I pulled from the rich dark soil of southwestern Minnesota. On many a hot and humid afternoon, sweat rolled off my forehead and dirt filtered through the holes of my canvas tennis shoes while hoeing and yanking unwanted plants from Dad’s soybean fields and on my cousin John’s farm.

Today I instruct my husband not to pull or mow any milkweed plants in our Faribault yard. Randy understands their value, even if he didn’t walk beans on his childhood farm. He more than made up for that lack of field work by picking way more rocks than I ever did. Morrison County in central Minnesota sprouts a bumper crop of rocks compared to my native Redwood County, where I also picked rocks.

A milkweed about to open. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But back to milkweeds. I love the scent of the dusty rose-colored common milkweed. So if you drive by my Faribault home or walk through River Bend Nature Center or Central Park or past Buckham Memorial Library and see me dipping my nose into a cluster of milkweed flowers, that’s why.

As summer progresses, I’m curious to see how many monarchs soar among the milkweeds in the tangled messes of plants that define my untamed flowerbeds. Thankfully our next door neighbor appreciates milkweeds also and is OK if the wind carries seeds onto his property.

Fireflies glow in the garden art honoring my nephew Justin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’ve already seen fireflies aplenty in our backyard, which abuts a wooded hillside. And recently, while driving home in the early dark of a summer evening, Randy and I saw hundreds of fireflies lighting up grassy road ditches. It was truly magical, reminding me of childhood sightings and of Eric Carle’s children’s picture book, The Very Lonely Firefly. I had a copy for my kids, battery included to light up firefly illustrations. And, until it stopped working, I had a solar-powered firefly garden sculpture honoring my nephew Justin, who loved light and fireflies and died at age 19 in 2001 of Hodgkins disease.

Often what we love is about much more than simply whatever we love. I see, in writing this story, that my love of milkweeds, monarchs and fireflies connects to memories. Summer memories. Farm memories. Family memories. These are the stories we carry within us, that help define who we are, whether we consider a milkweed to be a weed, or a flower.

TELL ME: What simple summer things delight you and why?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Immersed in summer at River Bend July 8, 2025

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A black-eyed Susan at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

SUMMER, EVEN WITH ITS SOMETIMES excessive heat, humidity and storms, is a glorious season. Especially in Minnesota, when many months of the year are cold and colorless.

A view of and from the prairie at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

This time of year brings a natural world teeming with life in a landscape flush with color. It takes a walk into the woods and onto the prairie—for me at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault—to fully immerse myself in the delights of these July days.

Ripe and ripening black raspberries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

During a recent hike on River Bend’s north side, I paused early on to sample black raspberries plucked from trailside bushes. I spotted the first ripe ones as Randy and I were about to cross a walkway bridge leading to a trail edging the Minnesota Correctional Facility, Faribault. But before I could get there, two guys on fat tire bikes barreled over the bridge, scaring me. I didn’t see them, so focused was I on picking berries.

Fat tire bikers head for a trail on River Bend’s north side. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

On the other side of the bridge, a deer stood, trapped between the double fencing of the prison. While many deer at the nature center show no concern for hikers, this one was skittish, bounding away before I could even lift my camera to shoot a picture.

Dragonflies, all in the same hue, flitted about. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

Instead, I focused on the brownish dragonfly flitting, then landing, upon a twig. Later I would spot numerous of these same-hued insects among blades of tall grasses. I find them fascinating with their gossamer wings hearkening of fairies and magic and a child’s imagination.

Sunlight plays on leaves in light and shadows. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

Backtracking across the road and into the woods, I observed unidentifiable slimy white fungi lining fallen limbs and trees. I’m always hopeful I will find an intensely bright yellow or orange mushroom like the vivid ones I saw several years ago in the woods of north central Minnesota. But I don’t think those grow in southern Minnesota. I know little about mushrooms except that I like them and buy eight ounces of baby bellas every week at the grocery store. I also know that a fairly-new business, Forest to Fork, grows a variety of mushrooms inside a former Faribault Foods plant on the north side of town.

A textured tree trunk up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

Also in the woods, I noticed the texture of tree trunks. Natural art. At least to me.

There, among the weave of grasses, a butterfly. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

As we looped back to a main trail, the woods began to open to swampland and then to prairie. Birds raised raucous sound, although I failed to see many. That was until I noticed and attempted to photograph a lone bird on a bush. And failed. The bird took flight. “It’s a bluebird,” Randy exclaimed. He was right given the flash of blue, the smallish size and the nearby bluebird houses. It was my first bluebird sighting. Ever. Rice County is a haven for bluebirds thanks to the efforts of Keith Radel, known as Mr. Bluebird. Keith hails from my hometown of Vesta on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. He’s placed and tended houses throughout the county for 40-plus years, tracking, counting and caring for bluebirds. On this afternoon, numerous bluebirds swooped and danced across the summer sky.

Coneflowers on the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

Nowhere does summer appear more like summer to me than in the tall grasses of swampland or among prairie wildflowers. I love the messiness of flowers tangled among grasses. I love the wide sky.

A Monarch, with parts of its wings missing, flies among leaves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

And I love, too, the flitting of butterflies and moths. A flash of orange. Antenna and spindly legs. And on this afternoon, a Monarch with wings partially-eaten by a predator.

A milkweed flower beginning to open. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)

All of this I discovered on a July afternoon at River Bend. Here I dipped my nose into deeply-scented, dusty pink milkweed flowers. Here I tasted sunshine and rain in berries. And here I honored summer in southern Minnesota. Glorious and beautiful.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Finding peace & more on a spring day at River Bend April 29, 2025

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This small memorial plaque honors parents and River Bend with joyful words. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

FOR YOU SHALL GO out in joy, and be led back in peace. Those words from Isaiah 55:12, printed on a memorial plaque by a tree near the River Bend Nature Center interpretative center, summarize well my feelings about this spacious public area of ponds and river, woodland and prairie in Faribault. Whenever I arrive here, I come with joyful anticipation. I always leave feeling refreshed, at peace. Nature has a way of infusing happiness while simultaneously calming the spirit.

I love the contrast of textured white bark against the bold blue sky of a sunny spring afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

After a long winter, which wasn’t particularly harsh by Minnesota standards, River Bend draws friends, families, couples, individuals and students to experience the unfolding of spring, me among them. This time of year, perhaps more than any other, I am cognizant of the natural world evolving, changing, teeming with life.

Buds unfurl as temps warm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

In the shelter of woods, buds tip trees, unfurling with each warm and sunny day until the barren gray branches of winter morph into a canopy of green. We’re not quite there yet. But I see the greenery. I doubt there’s a green more intense than that of early spring.

Pockets of green along the Straight River bottom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Sunlight slices shadows onto the path to the Turtle Pond and spotlights greenery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Sunlight illuminates patches of grass growing among limestone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

On recent hikes at River Bend, I noticed vivid swaths of green by the Straight River, scattered patches of green on the forest floor, tufts of greenery clinging to a rocky hillside. Green. Green. Green.

Lazy turtles on a log cause me to stop and linger. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
And sometimes turtles choose to hang out alone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

At the Turtle Pond, I delighted in the emergence of painted turtles, a cluster of them sunning themselves on a weather-worn tree lying near pond’s edge. Others chose to sunbathe alone. I am always fascinated by these creatures. They impart a sense of serenity, perhaps giving us permission to pause and enjoy the simple things in life. Like watching lounging turtles, reminding us that life’s pace needn’t always be hurried.

A family walks along a trail near the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Natural entertainment…balancing on a tree branch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
About to load up the bikes after biking at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

I especially appreciate seeing families outdoors. Walking. Balancing on a fallen branch. Biking. Being away from the distractions of busy schedules and technology and everything that intrudes on time together outside in nature.

River Bend proves a popular place for humans and dogs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

In the woods, we are sheltered and embraced while walking side-by-side, close to one another along narrow pathways. Conversations happen. We notice things, like squirrels scampering across dried leaves that hide as yet unseen spring wildflowers. Birds flit. The woods are beginning to awaken within our vision and hearing.

From a hilltop overlook, I view a diverse landscape of prairie and woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

Outside the woods on the prairie, I feel exposed but innately comfortable for I am of prairie stock. I know this wind. I know this wide sky. I know these tall grasses. This landscape would please Willa Cather, American author who wrote of the Great Plains and life thereon. In her novels, she shared a deep love of the land, of place.

That blue of pond and sky…beautiful to behold. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

At the prairie-side pond, I stop to take in water and sky and land—below, above and beyond. The deep blue of the pond, a reflection of the blue sky, contrasts sharply with the muted brown of dried pond grasses and reeds. The scene is painterly beautiful.

River Bend covers hundreds of acres and is one of Faribault’s greatest treasures. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

My time at River Bend always leaves me feeling better as I forget about worries and responsibilities, deadlines and everyday distractions.

A sizable deer population lives at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

Upon exiting the nature center, I am offered one final gift—three deer leisurely grazing alongside the road. They hold minimal fear of humans, so comfortable are they with the many visitors here. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if the deer would rather we just move along rather than watch them with wonder, our eyes, our souls, seeking joy and peace.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Drawn to the Cannon River on an April afternoon in Northfield April 15, 2025

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The Cannon River spills over the dam by the historic Ames Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

WE COME TO THE RIVER. The Cannon River, spilling over the dam by the Ames Mill. Roaring. Churning. Then flowing under the bridge and between the walls of the Riverwalk in downtown Northfield.

Enjoying beverages and time together beside the Cannon River in Bridge Square. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

We come here on a Sunday afternoon, on an April day of temps pushing into the sixties, the sun beaming warmth upon us, upon the land, upon the river. To sit. To walk. To lean toward the river. To simply be outdoors on an exceptionally lovely spring day in southern Minnesota.

The mood feels anticipatory, joyful, as we walk ourselves, and some their dogs, along the riverside path.

Historic buildings hug the Cannon River (and Division Street) in Northfield’s quaint downtown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

I come with my Canon camera in hand. An observer. An appreciator of the sun, the sky, the warmth, the river, the historic buildings, the people and activities happening around me. In some ways, the scene seems Norman Rockwell-ish, Busy, yet tranquil. A slice of small town Americana. Everyday people enjoying each other, nature, the outdoors. Life.

Fishing by the Ames Mill dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

Many carry fishing poles, tackle boxes, containers of bait. Anglers press against the riverside railing, dropping lines into the water far below.

Caught in the Cannon, a sucker fish. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

I watch as a young man pulls in an unidentifiable-to-me fish (later identified as a white sucker by my husband). His friend snaps a photo of the proud angler and his first catch of the day.

The top section of the Riverwalk Poetry Steps. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

After hanging around the river by Bridge Square for a bit, I descend the colorful Riverwalk Poetry Steps, a river poem crafted by a collaboration of 17 poets. We come to the river starry-eyed/across bridges reaching out to neighbors/over the river’s rushing waters…

Following the Riverwalk to find a fishing spot along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

I trail behind a couple, a family, a dog, another family, all of us connected by the water, by this place, on this spring day. I’m the only one to pause and read the poetry.

A family fishes the Cannon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

Atop the river wall, young women sit, sans shoes, while they fish. We all watch the river flow. Bobbers bob. A pair of ducks—one pure white—flies low, skimming the water before landing upon the surface of the Cannon.

“Lady Cannon,” a riverside mural by Maya Kenney and Raquel Santamaria. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

Across the river, Lady Cannon watches. Fish swim in her tangled waves of locks, flowing like water down steps toward the river. She is the art of the Cannon.

On the pedestrian bridge looking toward the Cannon and the Ames Mill, right in the distance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

I see art, too, in a railing shadowed upon the pedestrian bridge. I linger, mesmerized by the moving water, the riverside historic flour mill a block away.

There’s so much to take in here. So much that connects us. The sun, the sky, the land. And the river that flows beside and below us.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Outside on a “summer” day with the grandkids in southern Minnesota March 29, 2025

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This photo taken at 4 p.m. Friday, March 28, shows the unusually high March temperature in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2025)

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO, the temperature registered 81 degrees on the State Bank of Faribault sign in our historic downtown. At 4 p.m. Saturday, the temp read 38 degrees. That’s a 43-degree plunge. Such is the fickle nature of weather in southern Minnesota. One day summer. The next day winter.

Let’s talk that one day of summer. The two oldest of our three grandkids were here for a sleep-over Thursday into Friday afternoon. We took full advantage of the unseasonably warm temps with lots of time outdoors. Who wants to stay indoors when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and it feels like summer? None of us.

So out we went Friday morning, first to hang laundry on the clothesline, which didn’t interest Izzy, almost nine, and Isaac, six, quite as much as I had hoped. “We have a dryer,” Izzy informed me as she handed me clothespins. So does Grandma. But Grandma prefers hanging laundry outdoors, under the sky, under the sun, in the wind.

This looks just like the caterpillar found in our backyard on Friday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A CATERPILLAR, SQUIRRELS, BRAMBLES & A ROCK

Time outdoors led to discoveries, like the woolly caterpillar Izzy found in the backyard and which she insisted was poisonous. I insisted it was not while using a dried maple leaf and a piece of bark to move the fuzzy ball to a safe place in a flowerbed. She worried and warned that I was not to touch the poisonous caterpillar. “Izzy, it’s not poisonous,” I repeated. I’m not sure she believed me.

We noted all the holes dotting the backyard, spots where squirrels dug for hidden walnuts. Empty shells littered the dormant lawn.

The previous evening, Grandpa led Izzy and Isaac up the hill through the woods behind our house. It’s a bit of a climb past fallen branches and brambles. But they were adventurous, determined to make it to the top, to Wapacuta Park. There they found the playground equipment rather scary—Grandpa concurred—but a gigantic rock a whole lot of fun as they scampered atop it. This is the same mammoth rock their mom, aunt and uncle climbed as kids. Life come full circle.

The Fleckenstein Bluffs Park playground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

TIME TO PLAY & TIME TO ASK SERIOUS QUESTIONS

Late Friday morning we headed to Fleckenstein Bluffs Park near downtown to a playground the kids found much more to their liking. Another rock (albeit fake) to climb, a towering climbing apparatus, musical instruments, sand diggers, mini spinning seats and more, including fossils imprinted in the fake rocks.

We spent time, too, on an overlook above the Straight River. There the grandparents had to answer questions about homelessness given the blue tent pitched alongside the river. “Why do they live in a tent?” Sometimes adults don’t have all the answers. But we tried. Izzy worried that the police were coming to arrest those living in the tent when she saw a cruiser driving down the bike trail. No, Izzy, they’re not going to arrest them.

Beavers have given up chewing on this tree along the Straight River, we discovered during a walk on Friday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

BEAVERS, GEESE, A HERON & MEMORIES

And so we followed the Straight River Trail, noting trees chewed by beavers, a sandbar in the river, chimes on an apartment balcony clinking in the wind, a pair of geese moving from land to river, a magnificent blue heron flying low above the water…then those geese again, swimming.

Izzy stopped to pluck stones from alongside the trail, dropping them into an empty yogurt cup she’d brought with her. We walked sometimes hand-in-hand, Isaac and Grandpa well ahead of us, also clasping hands. This time together in the outdoors is the stuff of memories, of learning, of connecting with nature.

This used bookshop in Faribault is a must-stop when the grandkids visit. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

DRAGONS, TORNADOES & THE BIG WIDE WORLD

On the drive home, we stopped at Books on Central, a used bookstore run by the Rice County Area United Way. We like to take the kids there whenever they are in town. Izzy found a fantasy book about dragons she’s read, but wanted to own. And a nonfiction book about tornadoes. Isaac was looking for atlases. Jeanne, who volunteers at the bookshop, found two, as yet unprocessed, atlases in the back room. Isaac was happy, promptly sitting down to page through the books. We also chose a book for their baby cousin, Everett, in Wisconsin.

And so that was our day together. A time of laundry hanging, backyard observing, playing, walking and enveloping ourselves in nature. But above all, it was time for us as grandparents to be with our beloved grandchildren, simply enjoying an unseasonably warm late March day in southern Minnesota, “poisonous caterpillar” and all.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on seasons as Minnesota transitions to spring March 19, 2025

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The prairie at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)

IN THE IN-BETWEEN SEASON of not exactly winter, but not quite spring here in Minnesota (although the calendar says otherwise), I feel like I’m waiting. Waiting for snowfalls to end. Waiting for the landscape to transition from drab browns and grays. Waiting for vibrant colors to appear.

My neighbor’s spring flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

There’s a sense of anticipation and wonder when buds form, when the first tender shoots of spring bulbs emerge from the soil, then flower. Purple crocuses. Sunny yellow daffodils. Followed by tulips and other flowers in a rainbow of hues.

Spring wildflowers at Kaplan’s Woods Park, Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I love the beginning of spring—real spring, not the teasing warm days of early and mid-March or simply a date (March 20) on a calendar.

Spring erupts in Minnesota at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

I love when the landscape is flush in green, a green so vibrant that it’s almost indescribable.

Oak leaves at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
The starkness of this time of year in Minnesota focuses the eye on details, like the rough bark of a tree in the woods at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Dried seedheads at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)

While I await the greening of the landscape, I remind myself to appreciate the natural world around me as it is now. The stubborn dried oak leaves that clung to branches through the fierce winds of winter. The rough textured bark of a tree. The dried seed heads and leaning swamp and prairie grasses. All hold the seasoned beauty of days, of weeks, of months, of time.

Animal prints in the snow in my backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)

Seasons are not timed by a calendar date, but by the natural world. Authentic spring arrives in Minnesota on her own timetable. Often unhurried. But sometimes abrupt.

The woods at River Bend await the budding of spring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)

As I await spring’s bloom and budding, I realize that the seasons of life also should not be hurried. The years pass too quickly, although we are mostly ignorant of that in our younger years. I understand that now in this advancing season of my life.

For several minutes, I watched and photographed this bald eagle soaring high above the Straight River at River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)

I value the moments more, recognizing that seasons end. And seasons begin.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a rock riffle replaces a traditional dam February 5, 2025

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This rock riffle in Pine River replaced a traditional dam built in 1910 to hold back water flowing from Norway Lake into the Pine River. The old dam was designated as “high hazard,” thus in need of replacement. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

WIND AND WATER. Both prove soothing and calming elements of nature. Except when destructive.

Sandbagging along the flooding Cannon River in downtown Northfield last June. The traditional dam in Northfield was not compromised, unlike in some Minnesota locations. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2024)

Last June, excessive rainfall led to devastating floods in parts of southern Minnesota, especially in Waterville, a 20-minute drive southwest of Faribault. Farther to the west in Rapidan, the Blue Earth River raged, causing a partial dam collapse and erosion of the land. That led to loss of a house and of the much beloved The Dam Store. In Northfield, 20 minutes from Faribault, the Cannon River flooded the Riverwalk and threatened riverside businesses. In Faribault, the Cannon and Straight Rivers spilled from their banks, flooding parks and several city streets. The powerful river also eroded the shoreline near the Faribault Mill Dam. Boulders were hauled in and placed beside the dam to contain the river and prevent additional erosion.

The Dam Park, with a pavilion, is to the left of the tree-edged Pine River in this photo, private homes to the right. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Now, many months later, Faribault city officials are considering options for the Faribault Mill Dam. And that got me thinking about Pine River. In this north central Minnesota community, a rock riffle/rock arch rapids replaces a 200-foot long by 13-foot high traditional dam built in 1910. The result is nothing short of stunning.

The concrete steps and platform remain from the original dam construction project. This image shows a view of the rock riffle looking downstream. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Let me explain. Smaller rip-rap rocks, larger rocks and boulders were placed in sloping rows across the Pine River to replace the dam. Water spills over the rocks as the rows descend for several hundred feet. Except for the precise placement of the rock rows, the rapids appear almost natural. And that is much more visually pleasing than a wall of concrete.

It’s mesmerizing to watch and listen to the river spill over the man-made rock riffle in Pine River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

The sound, too, is pleasing. I have always loved the sound of water rushing over rocks. It’s calming, soothing, mesmerizing. As is watching the water pour over and around rocks.

The traditional dam proved a significant fish barrier. Installation of the rock riffle has improved fish habitat in the river, which feeds into the Whitefish Chain of Lakes in north central Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

But this award-winning rock riffle dam in Pine River offers much more than a place to sit riverside and relax. It’s also a popular recreational area. During my mid-week July 2024 visit, anglers fished the river from a pier and from shore downstream. Swimmers jumped from floating platforms into the water above the rock riffle. There’s a sandy beach, too. And although I didn’t see any, kayakers can also navigate the rapids. And anyone can cross the river on the rocks, but at their own risk.

On a summer day, swimmers jump off a swimming platform above the rock riffle into the river. Dam Park includes a sandy beach. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

This revamped area, as I viewed it, draws people outside to the river. To recreate. To gather. To enjoy nature. There’s even a playground and a pavilion with a kitchen in Dam Park. What Pine River has created with this rock riffle is a community centerpiece that is beautiful in every way.

Plantings of flowers and grasses protect the river shoreline by the rock riffle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Now, whether this will work at the Faribault Mill Dam, I don’t know. I’m no engineer. But rock riffles have been placed in some 75 rivers and lakes across Minnesota. The one in Pine River is the first I’ve seen. I’d like local city officials to consider a rock arch rapids, maybe take a field trip to Pine River or elsewhere and see (and hear) just how inviting and lovely, calming, soothing and mesmerizing a rock riffle is compared to a traditional dam. See how this dam removal and rock riffle replacement in Pine River creates a recreational oasis, a beautiful gathering spot that grows community.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

With gratitude for my southern Minnesota community November 25, 2024

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I photographed this tag hanging on The Gratitude Tree in the neighboring city of Northfield in 2019. I love this idea of publicly expressing thankfulness, including for community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2019)

WHEN CONSIDERING GRATITUDE, as we do this week, we usually look inward. But I want to look outward and share six reasons why I feel grateful to live in Faribault.

This is my all-time favorite image showing local diversity. Here children gather to break a pinata during an international festival at Faribault’s Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2012)

PEOPLE make a community. I knew no one when I moved here as a newlywed in 1982. But I was welcomed and have since formed deep friendships in Faribault. I can walk into a business, attend an event, or simply be out and about and run into someone who knows me. Conversation often follows.

Recently I attended a 75th anniversary open house at Burkhartzmeyer Shoes, a third-generation family owned shoe store in downtown Faribault. After purchasing athletic shoes, I headed to a back room for complimentary refreshments. A small group of us sat there talking and laughing, simply enjoying each other’s company. I felt like I was inside a small town cafe drinking coffee and conversing. It felt that down-home comfortable.

But I can feel just as comfortable with strangers, including Adolfo, whom I met in October while walking in Central Park. Adolfo moved to America from Venezuela, a country he fled because of Communism and violence. On this morning, he was pushing his one-year-old grandson in a stroller. It’s part of their daily routine. Darling Milan drew me to his grandpa, where I connected with Adolfo on a personal level and heard his story. I feel grateful for every opportunity I have to meet Faribault’s newest immigrants and hear their stories, stories often laced with hardship and hope. To live in a city as diverse as Faribault is truly a gift.

Kids help at the Faribault CommUnity Thanksgiving Dinner by, among other things, creating festive placemats. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2017)

Faribault overflows with CARING INDIVIDUALS AND ORGANIZATIONS striving to help others: the Community Action Center, Rice County Habitat for Humanity, St. Vincent de Paul, HOPE Center, Ruth’s House, IRIS (Infants Remembered in Silence), the Salvation Army, Operation: 23 to 0… I’ve received support while dealing with some especially challenging life events. When you experience that community love and care first-hand, you understand the true meaning of community.

Once again this Thanksgiving, volunteers will serve a free CommUnity Thanksgiving Dinner as they have for the past 30 some years. I’ve previously helped deliver those holiday meals. Every Tuesday, a free meal is also available at the Community Cafe. With Christmas approaching, I’m part of a bible study group coordinating the annual Angel Tree (gift giving) at my church. I could go on and on with an endless list of how people are helping people in my community. Hearts are loving, spirits giving.

A 1950s scene along Faribault’s Central Avenue is shown in this downtown mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I am especially grateful to live in a community which values THE ARTS. The Paradise Center for the Arts in downtown Faribault centers our arts scene. Every time I tour a gallery exhibit, attend a play or otherwise engage in the arts, I feel grateful to live here. I’ve even contributed to the local arts scene by publicly reading my poetry. I love attending summer concerts in the park and concerts inside the historic Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour. I appreciate the history-based murals that color our downtown. I grew up in rural southwestern Minnesota with minimal access to the arts, meaning my gratitude for the arts in Faribault runs deep.

I treasure Buckham Memorial Library, just blocks from my home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

My thankfulness for BUCKHAM MEMORIAL LIBRARY also runs deep, for the very same reason. I grew up in a small farming town without a library. And I love to read. That we now also have a volunteer run used bookstore, Books on Central (benefitting the Rice County Area United Way), notches my gratitude level even higher.

A snippet of Faribault’s historic buildings, photographed during a monthly Car Cruise Night. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

The bookshop is located in the heart of our HISTORIC DOWNTOWN, another reason I feel grateful to live in Faribault. My community cares about preserving historic buildings. I love old architecture. There’s nothing quite like walking among vintage vehicles along Central Avenue during Car Cruise Night as the sun sets at the end of a summer day. Beautiful.

In just minutes, I can reach the countryside, where I love to travel gravel roads. This road winds among the lakes and farm fields west of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2022)

Faribault also offers incredible NATURAL BEAUTY in a diverse landscape of woods and prairie, hills and valleys, ravines and bluffs. It’s so different than my native prairie. Admittedly, it took me a while to “get used to” all the trees when I moved here 42 years ago. I still mostly have no sense of direction on roads and streets that don’t run prairie grid straight. But I love to walk through city parks, along city trails, at River Bend Nature Center, on the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf… And within a short drive of my home, I am immersed in the countryside.

A view of The Gratitude Tree outside the Northfield Public Library in 2021. People wrote their reasons for feeling thankful on a blank tag. Those were then hung on the tree. I’d like to see a Gratitude Tree in every community once a year. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2021)

This list of a half dozen reasons to feel thankful for the place I call home just touches the surface of why I am grateful to live in Faribault. It’s not utopia, certainly. Nowhere is. But today I want to pause, consider and acknowledge specific reasons for feeling thankful that Faribault is my home. I hope you’ll do the same, wherever you live.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Into the woods, onto the prairie of November November 19, 2024

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The woods, sky and prairie of River Bend in early November. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

NOVEMBER MARKS A SEASON of transition, a time when the landscape slides ever closer to a colorless environment. Soon winter will envelope us in its drabness of gray and brown highlighted by white. There’s nothing visually compelling about that.

I found the veined back of this oversized fallen leaf especially lovely. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

As a life-long Minnesotan, I understand this about November. I know this. But I still don’t like the absence of color or light, the dark morning rising, the darkness that descends well before 5 p.m. And, yes, seasonal affective disorder, even if you don’t admit you’re experiencing it, likely touches all of us in Minnesota.

Beautiful: Wisps of clouds in the big sky and grass heads soaring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Times like this, it helps to get outside, into the natural world, and view the November landscape through an appreciative lens. It’s possible to reshape your thinking if you slow down, notice the details, determine that beauty is to be found in the outdoors, even in this eleventh month of the year.

My initial glimpse of the nearly invisible deer standing on a leaf-littered trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

So into the woods I went at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault, where first off I spotted a deer on a trail, the animal effectively camouflaged among the dried leaves, the trunks of trees and buckthorn (an invasive species still green). The doe stood and watched as I eased slowly toward her intent on getting within better focal range. Soon she wandered into the woods, among the trees. I shot a rapid series of images as the stare-down continued, until finally the deer tired of my presence and hurried away.

I moved closer, then zoomed in with my telephoto lens to get this close-up image. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

What a wonderful way to begin my walk. Even if I consider deer too populous and a danger on roadways, my interest in watching them never wanes. And there are plenty of deer to watch at River Bend.

This grass stretches way above my head and dances in the wind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Mostly, though, I don’t see many animals at the nature center. Plant life becomes my point of interest. In November, that means dormant plants like dried grasses stretching across the expansive prairie. Or grasses rising high above my head along the trail, stalks listing, pushed by the wind. Dancing.

Dried grasses, possible fuel for fire, edge a trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

These grasses have lost their luster green, but they are no less lovely in muted shades. The thought crosses my mind how rapidly a spark could ignite a raging grass fire here upon the parched land.

Dried goldenrod seemingly glow in the afternoon sunlight. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Weeds and wildflowers (I’m no naturalist when it comes to identifying what I see) are likewise dead and dried, some glowing in the late afternoon sunshine. And that, too, is lovely.

Cattails burst open at season’s end. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)
Fungus blends in with bark. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Cattails appear ravaged by the seasons. Fungi ladder a tree branch. These are the details I notice in looking for photos, in convincing myself that beauty exists within the woods, upon the prairie, even in November.

Dried sumac edge the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Dried sumac in a hue that isn’t orange, that isn’t red, flames.

Walking uphill to the prairie, the sky appears expansive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

A blue sky, swept with wisps of clouds, accents the scenes I take in. I always feel small under the expansive sky, no matter the month.

A spot of color in stubborn leaves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

A few stubborn, autumn leaves still cling, flashing color like the flick of a flame. That, too, I see on this November day.

If any image visually summarizes November, this would be it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

A flutter of birds near the end of my walk draws my eyes to a bare tree. To watch. To hear their movement, like a whisper of winter coming. Quiet and colorless. Signs of December soon overtaking November.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling