Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Meet me at the Faribault library Thursday evening November 8, 2017

 

A snippet of the display I’ve created for the Local Authors Fair at Buckham Memorial Library.

 

TOMORROW EVENING (November 9) I join 13 Faribault area writers as we showcase the craft of writing at Buckham Memorial Library’s Local Author Fair.

I’m ready with a display of sample published works, educational hand-outs, free candy and a Minnesota anthology for you to buy. I have limited copies of Fine Lines, The Talking Stick, Volume 26 in which five of my works published this year.

 

Grab a mini candy bar from my table and get a bonus quote about the craft of writing.

 

The drop-in event on the second floor Great Hall features each writer at his/her own table. So simply circulate, meet the authors and engage in conversation. You have only one hour, from 6 – 7 p.m., to meet everyone.

Here’s a sample of my writing, an award-winning poem printed in 2014 in Symmetry, The Talking Stick, Volume 23, and published by The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc:

 

This auction barn in Montgomery inspired my poem, “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn.” Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn

 

Shoulder brushes shoulder as bidders settle onto plank benches

in the tightness of the arched roof auction barn,

oil stains shadowing the cement floor below their soles,

where a farmer once greased wheel bearings on his Case tractor.

 

The auctioneer chants in a steady cadence

that mesmerizes, sways the faithful fellowship

to raise hands, nod heads, tip bidding cards

in reverent respect of an ancient rural liturgy.

 

Red Wing crock, cane back rocker, a Jacob’s ladder quilt,

Aunt Mary’s treasured steamer trunk, weathered oars—

goods of yesteryear coveted by those who commune here,

sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.

 

Find me, introduce yourself and ask me about my passions—writing and/or photography—and hear my story.

 

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

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Let’s talk writing & photography at a Local Authors Fair November 3, 2017

A promo posted at Buckham Memorial Library for the November 9 Local Authors Fair.

 

TERM ME A WRITER, author, poet, blogger, storyteller, wordsmith, photographer, artist. All fit me and my passions—writing and photography.

 

Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Next week I’ll share those passions at a Local Authors Fair from 6 – 7 p.m. Thursday, November 9, in the Great Hall of Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault. You’re invited to come and visit with me and 13 area writers.

 

My poem initially published in In Retrospect, The Talking Stick, Volume 22, an anthology published by The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc based in northern Minnesota. This past spring Rochester Minnesota composer David Kassler transformed the poem into a song performed by a Chamber Choir at two concerts in Rochester. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2017.

 

This informal drop-in fair presents a wonderful opportunity to network and to show folks my work—I’m bringing lots of samples. I’m ready, too, to talk about the craft of writing. Writing truly is a craft honed through decades of experience. From pounding out hard news stories under deadline to penning poetry to blogging and more, I’ve covered most aspects of writing. As a wordsmith, I remain passionately passionate about my love of language and of storytelling.

 

A serene country scene in Redwood County, Minnesota, where I grew up. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Through the years, my voice has evolved. I write with a strong sense of place rooted in my native southwestern Minnesota. That stark land created in me an awareness of details—of heat shimmering waves above cornfields, of a whipping prairie wind driving snow across gravel roads, of rough cow tongues slurping water from drinking cups…

 

In 2012, my poem, “Her Treasure,” was selected for inclusion in a poet-artist collaboration at Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota. Connie Ludwig, right, created a watercolor, “Pantry Jewels,” inspired by my poem. See the art behind me. This is an example of my rural-rooted poetry. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012.

 

I write in a way that’s earthy and accessible. Rural. Homey. Comfortable. When you read my work, you understand me. I am genuine and unpretentious.

 

Me shooting lake scenes while on a boat ride on a lake south of Park Rapids in mid-September. Photo courtesy of Jackie Hemmer at Who Will Make Me Laugh.

 

And I’m ready to answer questions about writing and photography at the Authors Fair. I’ve even prepared hand-outs with basic writing and photography tips, including a poetry tutorial dissecting my published poem “This Barn Remembers.”

 

 

In addition, you can purchase a recently-published anthology, Fine Lines, The Talking Stick, Volume 26, which includes five of my works: my award-winning short story, “Art Obsession,” another short story, two pieces of creative nonfiction and a poem. The collection features writing by 99 other Minnesota authors. I will have limited copies available for $10.

And then just to sweeten the pot, I’m giving away chocolate. Grab a mini candy bar and let’s talk about the craft of writing and the art of photography.

 

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Cheers to beer poems at a Minnesota brewery October 1, 2017

The patio outside Imminent Brewing Company in Northfield, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo July 2017.

 

I ADMIT, I HELD some apprehension walking toward Imminent Brewing in downtown Northfield late Saturday afternoon. I was on my way there not only for some great craft beer, but also to read poetry as part of a Beer Poetry Contest.

Would beer drinkers embrace poets when they stepped up to the mic? Or would they consider them an intrusion on an otherwise kicked-back afternoon at this former National Guard armory garage?

 

La Crosse, Wisconsin, celebrates Oktoberfest each autumn as noted in this Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo taken in 2015. There are bars aplenty in this college town.

 

Much to my delight, the crowd that filled the expansive space and overflowed onto the patio welcomed the writers of beer poems with enthusiasm. Folks listened and laughed as poets read of the beer culture in La Crosse, of Imminent Brewing staff and beer, of the days when a quarter would buy a glass of brew and more.

 

For my free beer, I chose Minnesota Hop Mess, Imminent Brewing’s newest beer, made with 100 percent locally grown fresh hops. This promo postcard was lying on tables in the brewery.

 

A request of “free beer for life” at the end of a rhyming poem caused an uproar of laughter. We poets did not get a life-time of free beer. But we each got a free pint. Cheers.

I didn’t win the poetry contest. The top three winners were determined by audience response and input from brewery staff and Northfield’s Poet Laureate, Rob Hardy. After hearing several of the poems and noting the support some poets had, I didn’t expect to place. But that’s OK. For me this event was more about the opportunity to share my poetry, to hear other poets and to expose people to poetry in an unexpected venue.

 

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo used for illustration purposes only and not taken at Imminent Brewing.

 

A bonus came in meeting Joy Ganyo, an elderly poet who intended to read, but inadvertently left the piece of paper with her poem printed thereon at home. Instead, she parked her walker at a front row table, ordered a beer and listened. I introduced myself to Joy after the readings and, in our brief chat, learned that she planned to read a poem about wildflowers during the open mic time. I asked a bit about her past and she spoke with fondness of growing up in Warroad. We also shared a commonality of a journalism background. Later I would learn that Joy once owned and operated Seven Gables Books & Antiques in Northfield. To hear her read would have been, I expect, a treat.

 

 

I also enjoyed meeting Rob Hardy, Northfield’s Poet Laureate and coordinator of the Beer Poetry Contest and the Northfield Poetry Festival. Networking with other poets encourages me to continue in this craft of shaping words into works of art. Yes, even with a topic like beer.

Here’s the poem I wrote and then read at the Beer Poetry Contest. Enjoy!

 

Two Men, Two Beers

 

George settled onto the cracked vinyl bar stool,
cocked his seed corn cap and ordered a cold one,
harvest done,
corn brimming bins,
a big fat check widening his worn wallet.

 

Across the street, Stephen slid onto a shiny stool,
ran a hand through his hair and ordered an IPA,
conference done,
files brimming computer,
credit card pressed into his slim back pocket.

 

Back at the bar, George asked for a burger
and a side order of onion rings,
brushed the bee’s wings from his bibs
and waited while the TV blared
and the bartender slid a rag down the bar.

 

At the brewpub, Stephen signaled the server,
ordered a pulled pork sandwich and sweet potato fries,
brushed dog hair from his jeans
and waited while the guitarist strummed
and the bartender poured flights.

 

George eased the neck of the brown bottle to his lips,
drank deep, content as a cow chewing cud
with his brand-name beer.
He glanced out the window, saw his son sipping beer,
tipped his bottle to the beer snob.

 

#

FYI: Click here to read the Northfield Poet Laureate’s Facebook page, which includes a photo of me reading “Two Men, Two Beers.”

 

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Special thanks to blogger friend Valerie and her husband, Gary, for joining Randy and me at Imminent Brewing. I appreciate your support.

 

In Northfield: Have a beer, hear a poem September 28, 2017

The patio outside Imminent Brewing Company in Northfield, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo July 2017.

 

I’VE READ MY POETRY ALOUD in an historic theatre, a church, an art gallery, a lake cabin, a library, a civic center meeting room, a golf club and outdoors next to a history center and in a town square. But I’ve never read at a brewery. That will change on Saturday when I participate in the Beer Poetry Contest at Imminent Brewing as part of Northfield Poetry Festival 2017.

 

A flight at Turtle Stack Brewery in La Crosse, Wisconsin. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

I’m excited to read at this new venue on a subject—beer—I’ve not covered in past poems. I wondered if I was up to the writing challenge given my limited beer knowledge. Sure, I like craft beer and enjoy checking out craft breweries. But could I craft a poem about beer?

 

Taps at F-Town Brewing in Faribault, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Once I sat down at the computer, words flowed like beer from a tap into a poem that is my signature down-to-earth style. And, no, I can’t pour my beer poem onto these pages. My poem releases Saturday at Imminent Brewing in downtown Northfield. And, yes, there are prizes on the line, including a growler of beer, for the winning poets selected by brewery patrons.

 

 

I love how Northfield embraces poetry from poems imprinted in sidewalks to the naming of Rob Hardy as the city’s Poet Laureate to this Poetry Festival. Prior to the brewery poetry readings (which include an open mic), area poets will read and sign books at 10:30 a.m. at Content Bookstore. And then at 1 p.m., the Northfield Public Library hosts a Youth Poetry Reading and Performance.

Youth between the ages of 18 – 20 can also participate in the 2017 Sidewalk Poetry Scavenger Hunt with a 1 p.m. Saturday, September 30, contest deadline. Click here for details.

 

Shipwreckt Books Publishing published Northfield Poet Laureate Rob Hardy’s collection this year.

 

Even if you think you hate poetry—and I realize plenty of people still consider poetry stuffy stuff written by intellectuals who can’t relate to the common man/woman—I’d encourage you to approach poetry with an open mind. Poetry has, in many ways, changed. Not the basics of good tight writing that emerge from a poet’s soul. But the accessibility of it. You can find a poet you like, words with which you can connect. Words that move you, make you laugh, make you think, make you cry. Even in your beer.

 

FYI: Join me, other poets, craft beer lovers and my husband for an open mic poetry reading from 4 – 6 p.m. Saturday, September 30, at Imminent Brewing, 519 Division Street, South Unit 2, Northfield. Cheers. Please drink responsibly.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

To the Minnesota northwoods for a book release party September 20, 2017

 

 

TWO READINGS BEFORE MINE, Norma Thorstad Knapp stepped to the microphone to share “How Much She Had Lost.” As she read of her aging mother’s desire to waltz one more time, emotions rose. My throat constricted. Tears seeped from my eyes. Thinking of my 85-year-old mother, I wondered how I could possibly compose myself enough to read my short story.

 

I pose in front of Blueberry Pines Golf Club, setting for The Talking Stick book release party. Photo by Randy Helbling.

 

I signaled my husband for a tissue, then wiped my eyes. I sipped water through a straw. And I struggled to pull myself together before I stood behind the podium in this room full of writers and their supporters gathered at Blueberry Pines Golf Club between Menahga and Park Rapids for the release of Fine Lines, The Talking Stick, Volume 26.

 

 

Too soon, Sharon Harris, co-editor along with her niece, Tarah L. Wolff, introduced me and my story, “Art Obsession.”

 

Reading “Art Obsession.” Photo by Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.

 

I was on, reading the words that this year earned an honorable mention in fiction. Four other pieces, among the six I submitted, also published: “Grocery Shopping” (fiction); “A Lot of Prairie and a Little New York” and “The Weekly Phone Call” (both creative nonfiction); and “Not Quite Perfect Penmanship” (poetry).

 

 

 

 

It’s an honor to have my writing published in this outstanding collection of works by Minnesota writers or those with a strong connection to Minnesota. The 2017 anthology includes 152 pieces by 100 writers. I don’t envy the task of The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc editorial board in selecting stories and poems for publication from among 370 submissions by 159 writers. Noted writers LouAnn Shepard Muhm, Marge Barrett and Rochelle Hurt selected the first and second place winners from the board’s top picks.

As I listened to stories and poems for several hours with minimal comprehension of time, I delighted in the talent of these writers. Marlene Mattila Stoehr drew me in with her “Spurned Heirloom” poem that left me pondering whether my family treasures will some day, too, end up as thrift store cast-offs.

I laughed at Charles Johnson’s “Jimmy Gets an Earful” poem that sounded, oh, so Minnesotan to my ears.

 

The book cover photo was taken by Tarah L. Wolff.

 

A strong sense of place, of Minnesota, imprints upon the pages of The Talking Stick. I can relate to the settings, the experiences, the observations and more crafted into so many of the pieces in this exceptional anthology.

 

After the readings, some of us socialized. That’s Randy and me at the end of the table. I am seated next to Sharon Harris. Photo courtesy of Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.

 

This book is a labor of love for co-managing editor Sharon Harris. She holds a passion for writing and for this area of Minnesota. After the readings, a group of us gathered in the bar to celebrate and to talk. I’d never met Sharon, although we’ve corresponded and talked via phone many times through the years. Past commitments have kept me from attending previous The Talking Stick release parties. Sharon is as delightful in person as I anticipated. Her appreciation for the craft of writing is evident in her dedication to creating this anthology.

 

 

I felt an energetic vibe and sense of community among all of the writers. We share a love of writing. That passion flowed in words read to an appreciative audience gathered on a grey Saturday afternoon in a sprawling log cabin style building tucked among the jackpines of northern Minnesota.

Updated below at 4:30 p.m. September 20

FYI: I will be signing and selling (limited) copies of the anthology during a Local Authors Fair from 6 – 7 p.m. November 9 at Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault. Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26 is also available for purchase online. Check amazon.  Or order through The Talking Stick website by clicking here.

Photos by Larry Risser Photography are copyrighted and used with permission here.

Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, for the poetic beauty of sunrises & sunsets in Minnesota May 1, 2017

 

SOMETIMES I WONDER if nature can offer anything more beautiful than a sunrise or a sunset. But then I have not seen the mountains of the West or the deserts of the Southwest or the ocean other than the Atlantic once.

 

 

Still, the sunrise and sunset are universal. We all see the same sun, just in different places.

 

 

Farm fields and a wide sky backdropped my youthful vision of the sun. To this day, for me, there’s nothing quite like a prairie sunset, the blazing ball of the sun overwhelming the southwestern Minnesota landscape. Those childhood memories leave me grieving for the sunsets I’ve missed while living in a valley within a city for 33 years. Hillside and trees filter and block the sinking sun.

 

 

Still, living in Faribault, a southeastern Minnesota community situated along rivers and lake, gives me an opportunity to view the sunset waterside. And there is beauty in that, too, in the reflections that dance poetry across water backdropped by a day shifting from twilight to dusk to dark.

 

 

FYI: These images were taken in mid-March from the shores of Wells Lake at King Mill Park along the Cannon River in Faribault. Click here to see additional photos of the above sunset as I entered Faribault along Highway 60 from the east.

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Writing poetry as the sun rises

My fingertips linger within a mere whisper of the keyboard
as I pause, half-thought, words interrupted mid-phrase,
to tilt my head toward the window and the sunrise
spreading gold and pink across the sky like jam on toast.

In that morning moment, I desire nothing more
than to dip my fingers into the jar of dawn,
to sample her sweetness, to taste of her earthy goodness,
to delight in sunshine and rain and succulent fruit plucked from vines.

But language beckons me back to the keyboard,
to dip my fingers into the jar of words,
to choose and shape and share the poetry that rises within me,
in rhythm and verse upon the breaking day.

 

FYI: My poem about the sunrise published in Poetic Strokes, A Regional Anthology of Poetry From Southeastern Minnesota, 2012.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Published in Oakwood: My latest rural-rooted poem honors my farm wife mom April 28, 2017

An abandoned farmhouse along Minnesota State Highway 19 east of Vesta, my hometown. The house is no longer standing. This image represents my rural heritage and looks similar to the house I called home for the first 11 years of my life. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

MORE THAN 40 YEARS removed from the farm, my creative voice remains decidedly rural, especially in the poetry I write.

My latest published poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother,” honors the woman who raised me, alongside my father, on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm. My parents were of good German stock, a hardworking couple who believed in God, in family and in the land. I carry that heritage with me, ever grateful for my rural upbringing.

 

Dad farmed, in the early years with a John Deere and Farmall and IH tractors and later with a Ford. (Photo by Lanae Kletscher Feser)

A photo of my dad, Elvern, taken in 1980.

 

Life in rural Minnesota in the 1960s and 1970s was hard. I see that now from the perspective of an adult. My dad worked long hard hours in the barn milking cows and equally long hard hours in the fields. Farming was much more labor intensive then.

 

The only photo I have of my mom holding me. My dad is holding my brother, Doug.

 

Likewise, my mom’s job of caring for our family of eight required long hard hours of labor. She tended a large garden, preserved fruits and vegetables to stock the freezer and cellar shelves, baked bread from scratch, washed clothes with a wringer washer, did without a bathroom or telephone or television for many years, and much more.

 

My parents, Vern and Arlene, on their September 25, 1954, wedding day.

 

Sometimes I think how much easier my mother’s life would have been had she not married my dad and stayed at her town job in Marshall.

 

Our family Christmas tree always sat on the end of the kitchen table, as shown in this Christmas 1964 photo. That’s me in the red jumper with four of my five siblings. I write about this red-and-white checked floor in my poem.

 

But then I remind myself of how much family means to my mom and I could not imagine her life without any of her six children. She centered us, grounded us, taught us kindness and gratitude, instilled in us a loving and compassionate spirit.

 

Arlene’s 1951 graduation portrait.

 

She has always been mom to me, a mother now nearing age 85. But there was a time when she was Arlene, not somebody’s wife, somebody’s mother. There was a time when she and my dad danced away a Saturday night in a southwestern Minnesota dance hall. They met at a dance.

 

The promo for Oakwood 2017 features “Dancing with Fire,” the art of Samuel T. Krueger. Promo image courtesy of Oakwood.

 

Those thoughts inspired me to write “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother,” published last week in South Dakota State University’s literary journal, Oakwood. I am honored to have my poem selected for inclusion with the work of other writers and artists from the Northern Great Plains. It’s a quality publication that represents well those of us who call this middle-of-the country, often overlooked place, home.

 

Ode to My Farm Wife Mother

Before my brother,
you were Saturday nights at the Blue Moon Ballroom—
a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey in a brown paper bag,
Old Spice scenting your dampened curls,
Perry Como crooning love in your ear.

Then motherhood quelled your dancing duet.
Interludes passed between births
until the sixth, and final, baby slipped into your world
in 1967. Thirteen years after you married.
Not at all unlucky.

Life shifted to the thrum of the Maytag,
sing-song nursery rhymes,
sway of Naugahyde rocker on red-and-white checked linoleum.
Your skin smelled of baby and yeasty homemade bread
and your kisses tasted of sweet apple jelly.

In the rhythm of your days, you still danced,
but to the beat of farm life—
laundry tangled on the clothesline,
charred burgers jazzed with ketch-up,
finances rocked by falling corn and soybean prices.

Yet, you showed gratitude in bowed head,
hard work in a sun-baked garden,
sweetness in peanut butter oatmeal bars,
endurance in endless summer days of canning,
goodness in the kindness of silence.

All of this I remember now
as you shove your walker down the halls of Parkview.
in the final set of your life, in a place far removed
from Blue Moon Ballroom memories
and the young woman you once were.

                                         #

Four generations: Great Grandma Arlene, Grandma Audrey, mother Amber and baby Isabelle, all together for the first time in July 2016 in rural southwestern Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.

 

I took some liberties with my poem. I doubt my mom ever drank whiskey. But back in the day, folks brought booze bottles in brown paper bags to dances for set-ups. She didn’t dance in the Blue Moon Ballroom, although one once stood in Marshall. Arlene went to dances in Ghent, in a dance hall whose name eludes me. Blue Moon sounds more poetic. But the rest of the poem is factual right down to the Naugahyde rocker and my mom shoving her walker down the hallways of Parkview.

FYI: You can view my poem on page 78 of Oakwood, found online by clicking here. My bio is published on page 89, listed among the other 40 contributors’ bios. I am grateful to SDSU in Brookings for the opportunity to be part of this magazine which showcases the creative voices of Plains writers and artists. I shall always feel proud of my rural upbringing, the single greatest influence on me as a poet, a writer, a photographer.

Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling