Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Nature makes us kin as spring emerges in Minnesota April 24, 2024

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Green is slowly tipping trees, coloring the ground as we bridge into spring. This hillside scene was photographed in Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

THIS TIME OF YEAR in Minnesota—this early spring—everything appears more vibrant. At least to my winter weary eyes. My eyes, which have viewed mostly muted shades of brown and gray for too many months, can’t get enough of this landscape edging with color.

Bold blue skies blanket River Bend’s prairie, which will soon be lush with new growth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Intense green in buds and lush lawns, thriving with recent rains and then sunshine and warming day-time temps, layer the landscape. Sometimes the sky is such a bold blue that my eyes ache with the beauty of it all. Green against blue, the natural world a poem, a painting, a creative story.

Buds emerge against the backdrop of the creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Like most Minnesotans, I find myself emerging, getting outdoors more, immersing myself in nature. Not that I don’t spend time outside in winter. But now, in late April, I’m out more often.

The Straight River twists through River Bend Nature Center, winding through Faribault to connect with the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Parks and trails and the local nature center draw me into woods, along prairie, aside replenished wetlands and ponds, by rivers and creeks. Even a walk through a neighborhood to observe tulips flashing vivid red and yellow pleases me. There’s so much to take in, to delight in as this season unfolds.

Inspirational signs are scattered throughout River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” reads a quote from William Shakespeare printed on a memorial plaque placed on a bench at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. I’m no Shakespearean scholar, but I interpret that to mean nature connects us.

Turtles galore lined logs at River Bend’s Turtle Pond on a recent sunny afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

That happened recently at the Turtle Pond. I paused to photograph three turtles lining a log, still as statues in the afternoon sunshine. Then a passing friend noticed and asked what I saw. And then he pulled out his cellphone to photograph. And then the photographer who was shooting senior photos on the boardwalk bridge over the pond, noticed the turtles, too. We were, in that moment, kin in nature, touched by the countless turtles perched on logs in the water.

This bridge spans a creek in Falls Creek County Park, leading to hiking trails in the woods on one end and an open grassy area on the other. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Nature also connected me with others at Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. A family picnicking by the park shelter prompted memories of long ago picnics there with my growing family. I walked over to tell the young parents how happy I was to see them outdoors, grilling, enjoying the beautiful spring day with Ezra in his Spider-Man costume and Millie in her stroller. Nature makes us kin.

Wildflowers are blooming, including these at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

People simply seem nicer, kinder, more open to conversation when they’re outdoors. It’s as if the wind whispers only good words into our thoughts. It’s as if clouds disperse to reveal only sunny skies. It’s as if sounds are only those of silence or of birds, not of anger and hostility. Nature calms with her voice, her presence.

Water mesmerizes as it flows over stones in a clear-running creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

I love to stand aside a burbling creek, to hear water rushing over rocks. In that moment, I hear only the soothing, steady rhythm of music and none of the noise of life. Peace, sweet peace, consumes me.

Trails at Falls Creek County Park are packed dirt, narrow, rugged, uneven and sometimes blocked by fallen trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

The same goes for walking within nature. Trees embrace me. Wildflowers show me beauty. Dirt beneath my soles connects me to the earth, filling my soul.

On a recent afternoon at River Bend, geese searched the prairie for food. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And then there are the creatures. The Canadian geese wandering the prairie, searching for food, their long necks bending, pilfering the dried grass while I dodge the droppings they’ve left along the pathway. They are fearless, a lesson for me in standing strong.

Deer at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Deer gather, then high-tail away when they grow weary of me watching them. They’ve had enough, even if I haven’t.

A nesting mallard hen and drake, nearly camouflaged on a wetland pond at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And at the pond, mallards nest. Unmoving. Determined. Heads folded into feathers. Settled there among dried stalks, water bold blue, reflecting the sky. Spring peepers sing a symphony of spring. It is a scene, a performance that holds me.

Rustic signage, which I love, marks landmarks and trails inside River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Shakespeare was right. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“In every walk with nature…” March 20, 2024

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Leaping across a path near the parking lot at River Bend Nature Center in 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2013)

THEY LEAPT LIKE BALLERINAS across the dirt trail, white tutu tails flashing.

They were a herd of 11 deer sighted recently at Faribault’s River Bend Nature Center. I stood on Raccoon Trail aside Randy simply watching. One after the other they leapt with such grace, such practiced precision.

I photographed these deer at River Bend in April 2022, not far from where we sighted 16 deer on March 13. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Only moments earlier, as we hiked down Arbor Trail on the nature center’s northeast side, Randy touched my arm, motioning me to stop. There, ahead of us, across the intersecting dirt path, several deer lingered in lowland grasses. I didn’t initially see them, my distance vision not all that acute. But eventually I spotted the camouflaged deer.

Rustic signs mark trails at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)

And then we saw more in the distance, nearer the Prairie Loop. There, barely visible behind trees.

A sense of wonderment, of awe, of just wanting to take in the scene before me overtook my spirit. Such moments in nature deserve full attention. We watched while two men walked right past us, unaware of the nearby deer so engaged were they in conversation.

We waited, whisper-quiet. Watching. Then the deer moved, ambling along the edge of tall dried grasses, staying parallel to the trail. Soon more deer emerged from a stand of trees and trailed the first traveling troupe. It was a sight, the endless stream of deer moving east.

Our attention turned that direction, toward the deer, one by one, long-leaping over Raccoon Trail, into the woods, up the hill, toward the prairie. We started counting. One, two, three…all the way to eleven. Only when the last deer exited the stage did we dare move, so mesmerized were we by the performance.

Inspirational quotes like this are spread throughout River Bend. I especially love this one. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2019)

Randy and I resumed our hike, following Raccoon Trail until the biting wind of the March evening prompted us to turn back. By that time we were talking again or walking in comfortable silence. I wished aloud that I had my 35 mm camera with me. I’ve never been this near so many deer at River Bend. Eleven. But perhaps it was better I was without my camera so I could focus on the moment rather than on focusing and framing images.

Camouflaged deer among the prairie grasses of River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Then, back at the intersection of Raccoon and Arbor Trails, Randy alerted me to more deer. Five this time. Standing statute still, without stage fright. Watching us. Us watching them in a stare-down. I wondered which of us would move first. Wildlife or human.

This sign posted in a kiosk along Raccoon Trail reminds visitors that deer and other wildlife, are just that, wildlife. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

I ooohed over the cute babies, last year’s fawns. Even if deer are dreadful when darting onto roadways and unwanted when dining on garden flowers and vegetables, I appreciate them in their natural habitat. This is their home, their stage, this land of tall grasses and woods. Here they walk with elegance. Here they leap with the grace of seasoned ballet dancers. Here they give me pause to stop, to listen to the trill of red-winged blackbirds as we watch each other—deer and human—in the fading light of a March evening at River Bend.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

On the hunt for deer November 6, 2023

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Deer photographed at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

MANY MINNESOTANS hold a love-hate relationship with deer. We love watching them in the wild. But when they devour our flowers and other plants, then deer are not quite so cute. Or, if they dash onto a roadway, slamming into our vehicles (or perhaps us into them), then the hate factor amps up considerably.

Leaping across a path near the nature center parking lot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)

And then there are the deer hunters, including many in my extended family. While I’ve never asked why they hunt, for some it’s a food source, others tradition, a challenge, a sport, camaraderie and the joy of time spent in the woods, fields and prairie.

Spotted on a back country road near Mazeppa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

Right now is prime deer hunting season in Minnesota with the recent firearms deer hunting opener. It’s a big deal with even our governor donning his blaze orange attire. The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources regulates hunting with detailed rules for firearms, muzzleloader and archery hunts plus a whole lot of other specifics for ages and regions. Way too complicated for me. But then I don’t need to understand given I don’t hunt.

A hunter in bright orange roamed fields during the opening weekend of deer hunting in Minnesota in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

But I do need to be aware. I prefer not to go on leisurely country drives during firearms hunting. Bullets can travel a long way. While I know most hunters are careful, not all are. Being sure of your target before firing is a basic rule of hunting. Even I, a non-hunter, understand that.

Spotted along a trail at River Bend while hiking on Sunday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

I also understand the need to heed warning signs like the one I spotted while hiking at River Bend Nature Center late Sunday morning. The nature center will be closed Thursday, November 9, through Sunday, November 12, for an archery management hunt. It’s a necessary event to manage the deer population. Coyotes do some of that, but clearly not enough.

The muted autumn landscape at River Bend, the path leading back to the woods or onto the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

I appreciate River Bend for its diverse landscape of woods, prairie, wetlands and river. To walk the trails within is to connect with nature, to feel peace, to experience a sense of awe and wonder at the intricacies and beauties of the natural world.

One of my favorites at River Bend, grass that stretches 10 feet and bends poetically in the wind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Here sky meets prairie. Here woods shelter. Here river twists. Here milkweeds flourish and grasses stretch and snakes slither. And here deer roam, too, in this land that is more theirs than ours. Yet, we claim it also.

Deer nearly camouflaged in the dried grasses at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2022)

And even though I intellectually recognize the need for an archery management hunt, part of me wants to shout a warning: “Run, deer, run!”

© Copyright November 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Delighting in Nature’s summer glory July 19, 2023

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An unopened dusky milkweed brings a soft color into the prairie landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

MID-SUMMER, AND THE MINNESOTA landscape is awash in color, despite the drought.

Walk the prairie or the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

This is the season to get outdoors and explore. Walk the land. Through woods or across prairie. Around a city block or park or public garden. Along a river, upon a beach. Delight in the essence of Nature in all her summer glory.

Black-eyed Susan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Flowers flush color.

A butterfly feeds on a milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Patterned butterflies flit, then pause to unfurl proboscis and drink of sweet floral nectar.

Prairie grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Long-stemmed grasses stretch toward the July sky.

A solitary dewdrop on a milkweed leaf. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Wild raspberries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Veins run through the leaves of wild grapes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I tend to notice details, especially with camera in hand. And therein, in the part of the whole, is the beauty we often pass by in our hurried lives. I encourage you to slow your pace so as not to miss a solitary dewdrop, the texture of leaves, the deep purple of a plump wild raspberry.

Bold berries jolt color into the greenery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Moth upon thistle holds its own beauty. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Tall tall grass bends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Notice the veins in bright red berries, the dusky moth among thistles, the way grass heads heavy with grain bend toward the earth.

Unidentified white flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

From the daintiest of white blossoms laddering a stalk to the bold gold of a prairie wildflower, there is much to see, to appreciate, to embrace in these summer days.

A nature-themed memorial at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Fill your eyes, your heart, your spirit, your mind with Nature’s beauty. Ride on the wings of the butterflies. Sway in the wind like blades of grass. Then settle, like a single dewdrop upon a leaf. Quiet. Filled with peace. Calmed in the presence of the land.

NOTE: All photos were taken recently at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The poetry of seasons as we welcome Autumn to Minnesota September 29, 2022

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A wave of cattails signal Autumn’s entrance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

IN THIS SEASON OF EARLY AUTUMN, the landscape of Minnesota transitions to subdued, muted, softer tones flashed with vivid orange, yellow and red in tree lines or a solitary tree. This time of year truly marks a change as we ease toward Winter, a season devoid of color.

Goldenrods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

A hillside of drying grass contrasts with the looming grey sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Grasses tower high above me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

A month ago, before Summer exited, I already observed Autumn’s entrance at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. Stands of cattails. Groups of goldenrod. Seas of drying prairie grass. All signaled the shift to September days.

I’m sure this scene has changed in the month since I photographed it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

I love this time of year. Sunny days give way to cool evenings to brisk mornings. I’ve pulled the flannel from the closet. I embrace the feeling, the glory, of each day, recognizing such days are fleeting.

Rustic signs, which I love, mark the trails at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

But weeks before this end of September, I delighted in the final days of August with that short walk through the woods at River Bend, then along a grass-lined trail to the hilltop Prairie Loop before I retraced my steps.

A stem of grass bends in the wind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Prairie grasses, looming well above my head, bent in the wind. I noted the gracefulness of the stems’ movement, the details on a single stalk. If you’ve ever paused to study a stalk, it’s almost like reading a poem. Grain after grain after grain ladders a slim line. In poetry, each word ladders into a line, into a verse, into a poem.

In the light of an August afternoon, a Monarch butterfly feeds upon the flower of a thistle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

In the flashlight of the afternoon at River Bend, I spotted a lone Monarch flitting among thistles, black-outlined orange wings contrasting with the soft purple of the bloom. A metaphor. Or perhaps a simile when penned poetically. Poem upon poem upon poem.

Lush leaves veined by the August sun. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Autumn edits out Summer, eliminating the excess wordage of a season that is lush and full and busy. Now the lines of the season shorten, every word carefully chosen, a harbinger of what lies ahead. Winter. Sparse. Barren. Cold.

I followed this path from the woods, across the low lands to a hilltop overlooking the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

But until then, Autumn settles in with the familiarity of a worn buffalo plaid flannel shirt. With the familiarity of cattails and milkweed bursting. Goldenrods. Tall prairie grasses drying, moving toward dormancy. I’ve seen this shift every September for past sixty years now. Yet I never tire of the shift, the change in seasons here in southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Waiting for ducklings & goslings May 23, 2022

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A marshy pond near the entry to River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 15, 2022)

MAKE WAY FOR DUCKLINGS. That award-winning children’s picture book by Robert McCloskey comes to mind each spring as ducklings and goslings hatch. McCloskey’s book, which won the Caldecott Medal for most distinguished American picture book in 1942, tells the story of a duck family adventuring around Boston. That’s some 1,400 miles from my southern Minnesota home.

Geese atop a nest at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 15, 2022)

Opportunities abound to observe newly-hatched spring waterfowl in my Minnesota community of Faribault, where two rivers run through—the Straight and the Cannon—and assorted ponds dot the landscape.

New signage graces the entrance to the nature center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

One of two mallards I saw. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 15, 2022)
An obviously human-made nest in the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

On a recent stop at River Bend Nature Center, I expected to see goslings and ducklings. But I didn’t. Instead, I saw two adult ducks in the grass aside the road upon entering the center. And then I spotted two grown geese atop a nest and a lone goose cruising the nearby pond. I need to check other locales, like the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. Ducks and geese are prolific there to the point of being a nuisance. I always watch where I step.

Sky and water come together. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

Despite the absence of sighting newborn waterfowl at River Bend, I found other scenes to focus my interest. I especially appreciated the sky, a patchwork of blue and white with clouds seemingly suspended overhead.

Pond close-up. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

And below, in the pond, those skies reflected on the water, among dried and greening grasses.

This sign at River Bend points to an actual spring, not a reference to the season. I love these kitschy homemade signs scattered throughout the nature center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

This time in May, especially with a late spring, seasons mix. Textures and remnants of autumn remain, contrasting with the greening of spring.

Just inside the entrance a short distance is the waterfall, between the road and the Minnesota State Correctional Facility, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

A short walk to the nearby waterfall yielded disappointment. With the recent rains, I expected water to be rushing over the rock ledges. Rather, there was barely a trickle. The same went for the spring, just off the parking lot near the nature center entrance. No water flowed.

A goose swims alone in the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

But back in the pond, the three geese I watched seemed comfortably settled. Soon, I expect, they will make way for goslings (not ducklings).

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Into the woods on a lovely spring day in Faribault May 12, 2022

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We sat on the bench near this shelter in Teepee Tonka Park to eat our picnic lunch and watch the Straight River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

ON THE AFTERNOON of River Bend’s Maple Syrup Fun Run, Randy and I followed a dirt trail into the nature center from Teepee Tonka Park. We’d just finished a picnic lunch alongside the Straight River, where we watched the fast-flowing water, a swooping blue jay and a father hiking with his two young daughters through the riverside woods. We also discussed how Faribault needs a canoe and kayak launch site.

Tree rings drew my interest. There are lots of dead and fallen trees and branches in these woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

And then, once we finished eating and planning, we dropped the cooler in the van and walked a ways into the woods. Our pace is typically leisurely. I prefer a take your time, notice, listen and see hike compared to a raising your heart rate pace. My photography factors into that.

Fungi grow on a trailside tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

This walk found me pausing to photograph fungi laddering a towering tree.

A worm for lunch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

And a bit further, Randy and I stopped to watch a robin nip at, then fully consume, an earthworm.

The pedestrian bridge crosses the Straight River into the woods on both ends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
The Straight River as seen from the bridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Near the river bank, a lone mallard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

Onward we went, lingering on the pedestrian bridge to watch the river flow. I never tire of the poetically powerful pull of flowing water. It’s soothing and comforting and peaceful. Something I needed to feel on this Saturday, at the end of an incredibly stressful week.

A railroad trestle crosses the Straight River,. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2020)

A ways down the path, Randy noticed a critter among debris tossed over the hillside by the former state hospital onto land adjoining the trail. Who knows what junk lies here? Or what animals. As hard as I looked, I couldn’t see the creature he noticed.

Then along came a young couple with their dog and we engaged in a brief conversation. They’ve poked around in the junk, they said, and found old bottles. And an old Fresca can from the 1980s. Randy and I caught each others’ eyes. “Old Fresca can from the 1980s.” Inwardly we laughed. The 1980s do not fit our definition of “old.”

Unfurling leaves are greening the landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

On they went. On we went. Soon we reversed, retracing our steps. I noticed the greening trees and landscape. I could see spring. Feel it. Finally. I welcomed the nuances of May, of sunshine and warmth, in a spring that has been too cold and rainy. I found spring in the woods. In a robin. In a river. In recognizing the beauty of this unfolding season.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The in-between season at River Bend April 19, 2022

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Oh, how lovely the textured bark. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

TREES DEVOID OF LEAVES open the woods to full view. Such is the benefit of this not-winter, not-yet-spring transitional time here in southern Minnesota.

Signage identifies the the Arbor and Outlook Trails at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

On a recent walk through Faribault’s River Bend Nature Center, I noticed nuances of nature that might otherwise not be seen in a leaf canopy, or at least not as deeply appreciated.

A woodpecker in flight. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Following the Arbor Trail loop into the woods, I noticed first a red-capped woodpecker. I determined to get a photo. But, if you’ve photographed birds, you understand that such an endeavor requires patience, planning and a bit of luck. I caught the bird in flight. Maybe not the sharpest image, but certainly an unexpected moment I managed to snapshot.

Bare treetops, beautiful against a bold sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Trees themselves also draw my interest. I find myself especially drawn to oaks. Their sturdiness and expansive canopy exude strength and artistry. But I find birch trees equally as fascinating. Or at least those with white bark, which could be birch or aspen. Without leaves, trees are much more challenging to identify, at least for me.

I love the beauty of dried grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

As I forked off the Arbor Trail to the Overlook Trail, the vista opened to prairie. Now, as you would expect, this native prairie girl loves the prairie. No matter the season. I appreciate the tall dried grasses that arch and dip in the wind. Rhythmic. Poetic.

A solo grass stem bends in the wind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

A single stem of grass reminds me of youthful summers on the farm, of playing in untamed tall grass. It reminds me, too, of the writing of Laura Ingalls Wilder, a favorite author. I grew up some 20 miles from her childhood home in Walnut Grove. Her ability to notice details inspires me in my writing.

Beauty in a seed head. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Dried seed heads catch my eye. Details. Promise of new growth from last season’s remnants.

One of the many bluebird houses checked and maintained by volunteers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I notice, too, the bluebird house among the prairie grasses. Thanks to Keith Radel, who hails from my hometown and has lived in Faribault for decades, the bluebird thrives in these parts. Known as Mr. Bluebird, Keith appreciates bluebirds with a passion unequal. He’s determined to protect them, to assure they flourish. It’s heartening to see his devotion to this bird.

I see the deer and the deer see me through a treeline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

As I return to the Arbor Trail, I wonder if I will see any deer, previously spotted in this area. And then Randy, my walking partner, alerts me to their presence. There, on the prairie, I observe four deer. I move quietly toward the edge of the treeline to photograph them through the trees. Careful. Cautious. Not wanting to scare them away before I can lift and focus my lens. But they are already aware, frozen in place, ears upright, faces turned toward me.

The deer vanish, nearly unseen, into the tall prairie grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Soon they are hightailing it away, vanishing, camouflaged by the high brown prairie grasses. I never tire of watching deer, even though I consider them too numerous and a roadway hazard.

In just a short distance, I’ve noticed nature’s nuances. In a woodpecker. In the bark of trees. In the prairie grasses. And, finally, in a quartet of deer. What a gift in this not winter, not-quite-spring season in southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The woods are… April 6, 2022

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Inside the woods at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME who grew up on the prairie, woods are not a natural fit. I’ve always felt a bit out of place in the density of trees. Uncomfortable even. But time and distance from a landscape of big sky and wide open spaces have eased me into the woods.

A view of the Straight River from Honor Point. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I appreciate woods, as long as there aren’t “too many” trees. I need to see glimpses, even vistas, of openness. River Bend Nature Center in Faribault offers both. Prairie and woods.

Love this quote on a memorial sign at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

On a recent visit, I followed trails into the woods. And, as always, I noticed the beauty therein. I view the natural world through many lenses. Close-up. From afar. With an artsy perspective. But mostly with a deep appreciation.

This mottling on a tree trunk looks like art to me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

It doesn’t take much to catch my eye, to cause me to pause and reflect. Photograph. Delight. Savor the moment, the scene.

I’m always drawn to leaves in water, here in a melting snow puddle along a trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Loved spotting this patch of green in mid-March. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Tangled branches and blue sky. Beautiful. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

If you walk with me into the woods, you won’t fast track from Point A to Point B. Sometimes I go at a rapid pace. But most of the time, I can’t. Because I simply see too much. Poetry in puddled leaves. Spring in a patch of green grass. Abstract art in a mottled tree trunk. Dancers in twisted branches.

It took me awhile to get this focused shot with my zoom lens of a flitting cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Sights and sounds draw me to linger in the woods. The shrill call of a cardinal and a flash of red cause me to pause. I wait. Listen. Photograph.

The sign pointing to the Turtle Pond, where the turtles had not yet emerged on my March 19 visit. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I feel such a sense of wonderment in it all. A peace, too, that comes only from immersing one’s self in the natural world. In the chaos and noises of life, the woods are on this day, indeed, my sanctuary.

TELL ME: How do you react to the natural world?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Past & present meet at River Bend Nature Center February 2, 2022

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This sign stands near River Bend Nature Center’s interpretative center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

MONTHS AGO, BEFORE SNOW FELL and the season officially transitioned to winter, I followed a paved trail into the woods at River Bend Nature Center and then a grassy path to a wetlands overlook.

River Bend, on Faribault’s east side, rates as a favorite outdoor destination. That November day I embraced the lingering remnants of autumn, now overtaken by the cold and snow of winter.

Rugged bark draws my eye as I hike. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

Even in the muted hues of autumn’s end, beauty exists.

But, for me, taking in the evolving landscape stretches beyond simply seeing that which unfolds before me. It’s also about looking back. To my childhood on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

One of many wooded trails in River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

When I hike the wooded trails of River Bend, I see my younger self riding my bike through the grove back on the farm. Except the bike was a horse, not a bike. I grew up in the era of TV Westerns—of “Rawhide” and “Bonanza.”

The kids’ play area at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

Fallen branches at River Bend angled into a shelter resemble those built by me and my siblings. We also constructed buildings by looping baler twine around tree trunks. And we crafted a house, too, from discarded wire fencing. Oh, the imaginations of farm kids let loose in the grove.

Dried oak leaves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

Dried leaves scattered in the woods bring more memories. Each autumn, I gathered fallen leaves into piles, then dropped the leaves into lines. Walls. Constructing leaf houses filled many a recess at Vesta Elementary School. And many an autumn day for my siblings and me.

A single dried grass stem holds simple beauty. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

I recall, too, hiding in tall grass between the granary and the south grove. When I scan the prairie expanse of River Bend, I imagine myself vanishing. Hiding from brothers with cap guns holstered at their sides. Yes, I owned a cap gun, too, and wore a straw cowgirl hat, although we called them cowboy hats back then.

The wetlands on prairie’s edge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

My father owned a gun, which he used once a year to hunt for pheasants in the slough hole (as we redundantly termed the slough on our farm). When I look across the wetlands at River Bend, I think of the one time my oldest brother and I accompanied Dad to the low lying pothole to hunt for pheasants. I don’t recall whether that hunt was successful. Eventually, Dad drained the slough to add more tillable acreage. I often wonder about the sensibilities of draining prairie potholes and how that affected the land. The undrained wetlands of River Bend are mostly dry in this drought year.

Dried coneflower seedheads. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

While walking the prairie, I spotted dried seedheads. Coneflower seeds lying atop the grass, where they will eventually reseed. Nature recycling.

Milkweed pods, too, flourish in River Bend’s prairieland. Back on the farm, I pulled milkweeds from soybean fields. “Walking beans” is the correct term. Walking between soybean rows pulling unwanted weeds—especially cockleburs and thistles. Only detasseling corn ranks as worse. I’ll walk beans or shovel manure any day (and I did plenty of that) over corn detasseling on a hot and humid July day.

A dried milkweed pod burst open on the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2021)

Those dried milkweeds at River Bend bring one final memory. And it is a Christmas memory. One year I crafted a Christmas ornament for my Aunt Rachel from a milkweed pod and a discarded holiday card. (My mom saved everything.) I cut out an elfin girl dressed in a glittery red suit, her face framed by a pointy hood. Then I taped the cut-out to a toothpick and stuck the impish child into the downy snow of an open milkweed pod. Beautiful.

These are the childhood memories sparked by my November walk through River Bend Nature Center. I feel grateful for this sprawling natural space, for the peace it brings me as I follow trails into the present. And into the past.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling