Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Foliage, fields & fun in this season of autumn October 23, 2023

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Stunning fall colors along Farwell Avenue north of Warsaw. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

AUTUMN BECKONED US RECENTLY to forgo the yard work, the half-finished interior paint job, the anything that would keep us at home. Rather, we hit the backroads, taking in the glorious fall colors which finally exploded. I can’t recall leaves ever turning this late in the season here.

One of my favorite old barns in Rice County, located along Farwell Avenue north of Warsaw. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

This region of Minnesota seems vastly undiscovered as an autumn leaf-peeping destination. But I learned years ago that the Faribault area offers stunning fall foliage, especially along our many area lakes and in stands of trees among rural rolling hills.

This gravel road, Farwell Avenue, took us past beautiful fall foliage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

I like nothing better than to follow gravel roads that twist through the countryside. The slower pace connects me to the land, to the lovely scenes unfolding before me. Dust clouds trail vehicles rumbling along sometimes washboard surfaces. Combines kick up dust, too, as farmers harvest corn and soybeans, grain trucks parked nearby to hold the bounty.

A rare find, a vintage corn crib packed with field corn in northwestern Rice County, in the Lonsdale area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Even inside our van, I can smell the scent of earth rising from freshly-tilled fields. Some acreage lies bare while others still hold endless rows of ripened crops awaiting harvest.

The Theis family has created a welcoming outdoor space for Apple Creek Orchard visitors to gather beside a fireplace against a wooded backdrop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

At Apple Creek Orchard west of Faribault, families gathered on a sunny weekend afternoon to enjoy fun on-site activities like apple picking, bean bag toss, apple slinging, wagon rides, jump pad, corn maze and more. We wandered the grounds, admiring the improvements and expansions made by the Theis family to grow their orchard in to an agri-entertainment destination. They’ve also added an event center to host weddings and other gatherings.

Autumn-themed pillows are propped on the sitting area next to the outdoor fireplace at Apple Creek Orchard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

As Randy paid for a half-peck of my favorite Minnesota-developed SweeTango pulled from a store cooler, I greeted Tami Theis, congratulated her on their upgrades. She inquired about my family. I got to know Tami and her daughter Amber sometime back while at the orchard. They are a delight— friendly, caring and, oh, so welcoming to everyone. Amber was running the concession stand on this busy afternoon and I gave her a hard time after learning the donut machine wasn’t working and I would get none of the mini donuts I craved.

Dudley Lake, one of my favorite places to see colorful lakeside trees in Rice County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

No matter my disappointment in the lack of a sweet treat, nothing else about our afternoon outing disappointed. Onward Randy and I went. He turned the van left out of Apple Creek Orchard onto the paved roadway. Eventually we took gravel roads again, meandering past lakes and fields and farm sites, stopping occasionally so I could snap photos.

My next-door neighbor’s flaming maple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

I love this time of year. The scent of decaying leaves. The sight of trees flaming red, yellow, orange. The muted fields that define the landscape. The apples and pumpkins and gourds. The bold blue sky. The bringing in of the harvest.

Looking up at our backyard maple, the wooded hillside and at our neighbor’s trees on a recent afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Back home, the down side of autumn awaited us in outdoor chores—removing leaves from rain gutters, raking/mulching layers of maple leaves in the backyard, washing windows… To everything there is a season. And the season of autumn means taking time to view the colorful fall foliage when the trees are turning. The work can wait.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Of monarch butterflies & milkweeds August 14, 2023

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Monarch on milkweed flower at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

ADMITTEDLY, A TIME EXISTED when I considered milkweeds to be, well, weeds. A weed, by definition, is an unwanted plant. And my farmer dad didn’t want milkweeds growing in his Redwood County soybean fields. So we—meaning me and my siblings—were instructed to eradicate milkweeds, cockle burrs and thistles while walking beans.

If the term “walking beans” is unfamiliar, it simply means walking between soybean rows to remove weeds either via pulling or hoeing, preferably yanking so as to assure root removal. This was a necessary, albeit unpleasant, task assigned to farm kids who labored and sweated under a hot summer sun. The reward was a clean field. And a grateful farmer father.

Occasionally, this job paid…if done for anyone other than Dad. One summer my cousin John hired my sister Lanae and I and two of our cousins to walk his beans. As the oldest among the four, I was the designated crew leader, quickly thrust into settling arguments between my two cousins. I decided then and there that I wasn’t management material.

Milkweeds flourish at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

But back to those milkweeds. Now, some 50+ years later, my opinion about milkweeds has changed. I no longer pull them. I plant them and then allow them to go to seed. And this year I have a bumper crop growing in my flowerbeds, much to my delight.

Milkweed flowers are not only beautiful, but also smell lovely. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Milkweeds are the host plant for monarch butterfly larvae, the reason I grow this food source. I want to do my part to protect the monarch, today considered to be endangered. I’ve been rewarded with monarchs flitting among my phlox and other plants in my tangled mess of flower gardens.

The other evening, while walking in a local park, I watched two monarchs swooping and dancing in a pre-mating ritual. Their aerial acrobatics impressed me like a line of well-written poetry. In many ways, their performance was poetry. Beautiful. Creative. Mesmerizing. Connective in a way that touched my spirit.

If my farmer dad (gone 20 years) heard me describe monarchs in this context, he may just shake his head and wonder about that poet daughter of his. And he would wonder even more whether I learned anything from pulling milkweeds all those summers ago in his southwestern Minnesota soybean fields.

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FYI: You can learn about monarch butterflies and how you can help them, see caterpillars, then hike to look for monarchs during a 10-11:30 a.m. Saturday, August 19, program at the Nerstrand Big Woods State Park amphitheater. Minnesota Master Naturalist Katy Gillispie is leading the Friends of Nerstrand Big Woods State Park free “Monarchs and Milkweeds” event. A state park parking pass is required for entry to the park near Nerstrand.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Book review: A collection of short stories & art from the Minnesota prairie by Elizabeth Johanneck July 27, 2023

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The cover of Elizabeth Johanneck’s new book features the art of her grandfather, Arnold Kramer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo July 2023)

DECADES REMOVED from southwestern Minnesota, Twin Cities writer Elizabeth Johanneck and I remain rooted to the prairie—the land and people and smalls towns which shaped us. We both grew up on Redwood County farms, were Wabasso High School classmates and today hold a deep respect and fondness for the place we once called home.

Beth, as she’s known to me, recently published a book, If You Can’t Make it to Heaven, at Least Get to Seaforth—The Monica Stories and Then Some. This book features short stories and snippet observations in Beth’s humorous storytelling style, plus paintings and photos. These could be my stories, my memories, just with different characters and settings. Any prairie farm kid likely will feel the same.

ABOUT SEAFORTH & MONICA

But where is Seaforth? And who is Monica? Seaforth, population 77, is a farming community located along County Road 7, south of Minnesota State Highway 19 in central Redwood County. It’s near my hometown of Vesta, seven miles to the northwest. Monica Fischer is Beth’s friend, former co-worker and a character. A baby shoe in a pot of egg coffee and pantyhose found clinging inside a pant leg during Catholic Mass are among the many entertaining Monica stories that left me laughing aloud. By the time I’d finished reading this section of the book, I felt like I knew Monica well. Everyone should have a friend like her.

GROWING UP ON THE MINNESOTA PRAIRIE IN THE 1960s

And everyone should be so fortunate to have experienced rural Minnesota life in the 1960s, as Beth and I did. It is Part 2, “Random Nonsense of a MN Country Mouse,” that I find most similar to my childhood. Both farmers’ daughters with many siblings, Beth and I share the commonalities of being raised on the land among aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and immediate family who loved us deeply.

As in “The Monica Stories,” Beth writes about her personal experiences in a casual conversational style. It’s as if she and I are chatting over cups of coffee, and Beth does like her coffee. I connect with her stories about “the grove,” jars of pocket gopher feet in the freezer, grab bags, bloodsuckers, The Weekly Reader, hearing corn grow and more.

Her humor-infused short stories stretch into adulthood, into becoming a parent and grandparent. These are not earth-shattering remembrances, but rather observations about everyday life and events that could be mine, could be yours, but are definitively Beth’s.

NIBBLES OF COUNTRY INSIGHTS

In a section titled “Country Mouse Nibbles,” Beth shares her thoughts on topics in a sentence or two, the first being “When You Are Raised Close to the Land.” I fully understand—the smell after autumn harvest, looking to the west for approaching storms, filled fruit jars crowding root cellar shelves… And “Holding onto Memories”—Distant cheers from a local ball game are souvenirs worth saving for winter. Truly poetic words.

FEATURING THE ART OF “MINNESOTA’S GRANDPA MOSES”

There is much to be cherished in this book beyond pages and pages of rural memories and insights. Beth also intersperses photos, most from Seaforth. But it is Part 3, “Paintings by Arnold Kramer, Minnesota’s ‘Grandpa Moses,’” which is an historic agrarian art treasure. Following his retirement, Seaforth farmer Arnold Kramer took up painting, visually documenting early to mid-1900s rural life and scenes. He became well-known for his folk art style paintings done in primary colors. Beth’s book holds the only printed collection of paintings by her grandfather. The self-taught artist created more than 400 works of art and was dubbed “Minnesota’s Grandpa Moses” by the University of Minnesota at the peak of his creativity in the 1960s.

Book signing promo courtesy of Elizabeth Johanneck.

BOOK SIGNING SATURDAY IN SEAFORTH

Like her grandfather before her, Beth is also a visual artist. She illustrated a just-published children’s picture book by her lifelong friend, Cindy Bernardy Lavin, our WHS classmate. Both writers, along with Monica Pistulka Fisher, are doing a book signing from noon to 3 pm this Saturday, July 29, at the C4th Bar during Seaforth’s Hometown Days celebration.

Beth’s book is also available for purchase at Chapter Two Bookstore in Redwood Falls and online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Both her book and Cindy’s achieved bestseller status on Amazon following their release.

Julie Kramer, author of bestseller Stalking Susan, praises Beth’s book in her back cover endorsement, calling it “a delightful collection from a farm girl who grew up near the Minnesota home of Laura Ingalls Wilder.” I agree. Fully.

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Disclaimer: I edited Beth’s book and advised her on the manuscript. She also included my poem, “Her Treasure,” as a companion piece in the “Country Mouse Nibbles” section. For many years, Beth hosted a blog, Minnesota Country Mouse.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Garden fresh peas from the library July 17, 2023

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I FOLDED THE PILE of pea pods into the front of my Minnesota-themed tee, the one with two grain bin graphics. It seemed appropriate for the vegetable gathered from the Friends of Buckham Memorial Library Organic Learning Garden. Harvest of grain. Harvest of vegetables.

In the library window by the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2020)

I hadn’t expected to pick peas when Randy and I stopped at our local library Saturday afternoon en route to the grocery store for meat to grill. But when we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to check out the garden while Randy looked for videos.

To my surprise, I found pea plants heavy with plump pea pods. I felt giddy. Garden fresh peas have always been a favorite. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had them.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

I hold fond memories of picking and shelling peas from my childhood garden. I loved running my thumb down the seam of the pod, opening the shell to reveal a row of tiny green orbs. So perfect. And then I slid my thumb down that tidy row, peas dropping one by one into a metal pan. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. There’s a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic process of shelling peas.

Once home, as I shelled those peas carried in my t-shirt to the van, I thought of all those summers back on the farm. I never realized then how lucky I was to eat mostly food grown or raised on our acreage. It was simply what everyone did in rural Minnesota. Planted a garden. Raised beef cattle, pigs and/or chickens.

That evening as we sat down to a grilled pork chop supper (not dinner) with sides of potatoes and peas, I dipped my spoon into those fresh peas covered with butter. I tasted the sun and sky and earth. But mostly, I tasted memories. Garden memories.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Into the country to pick rhubarb, but so much more May 31, 2023

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The gravel road past our friends’ Rice County farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

EVERYONE OUGHT TO OCCASIONALLY take a drive into the countryside along back county roads and gravel roads trailing dust. It’s good for the soul, spirit and mind to route into a quiet place defined by fields and farm sites. Away from town. Away from houses clumped together in blocks. Into a wide open place where land and sky meet and space seems infinite.

Randy and I found all of that recently as we drove east of Faribault, passing fields sprouting corn, farm sites nudging the highway. We aimed toward our friend Barb and Bob’s farm, invited there to harvest rhubarb. It’s an annual spring rite for us.

Bird folk art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

But for me, this is about much more than gathering rhubarb. It’s about enveloping myself in the peacefulness of rural Minnesota. When only the trill of birds, the roar of a tractor and conversation with our friends break the silence, I feel utterly, contentedly at home. I feel grounded and rooted and connected and transported back to the farm of my youth, albeit 120 miles to the west.

Formerly a smokehouse, this is now used for storing gardening tools. The rhubarb patch flourishes alongside the aged building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I never pull a single stalk of rhubarb from the patch next to the aged clay block smokehouse. While Randy harvests, I roam. With my camera.

Beautiful rural Rice County, east of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

First, I pause to take in the rural landscape—fields, trees, gravel road below a clear blue sky. Oh, place of my heart.

A familiar rural site, a silo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Then I head toward the silo towering over the farm site. Many times I climbed the ladder into the silo back on my childhood farm to fork silage and toss it down the chute to feed the cows. It was hard, smelly work. But when you worked on a dairy, livestock and crop farm 60-plus years ago, chores were labor intensive.

Barb’s “Star Shadow” barn quilt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

From the silo, I turn my focus to the weathered plywood quilt block square displayed on the side of a tin-covered pole shed. The artwork, “Star Shadow,” honors Barb’s passion for quilting. It’s a nice addition to the building. I like barn quilt art, which surged in popularity perhaps a decade or more ago. There are places in Minnesota, like the Caledonia area in Houston County, where you can take a self-guided tour and view 59 barn quilts. For my generation, especially, quilts are part of our family history. Patchwork quilts layered beds, providing warmth on frigid Minnesota winter nights. I cherish remembrances of my paternal grandmother’s quilt tops, quilting frame and the quilts she gifted to me and all of her 40-plus grandchildren.

Apple blossoms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

This visit to Barb and Bob’s farm brings back so many memories. I wander among the apple trees, most blossoms spent, and watch an elusive Monarch butterfly flit among the branches. I can almost taste the sweetness of apple jelly spooned onto buttered toast.

The growing pile of rhubarb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I check in with Randy, who hasn’t called me to help with the rhubarb harvest. He understands the pull I feel to photograph. Via photography, I notice details and that is such a gift. He’s gathered a growing stash of thick green stalks tipped in pink. Rhubarb seems such a humble fruit. Perfect for crisp, sauce or pie.

A tractor heads to a field with a roller to pack the soil. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

A tractor roars by then, dust rising around and behind as it pulls an unfamiliar farm implement down the gravel road. A roller, Randy notes later when we pass a packed farm field.

Randy carries discarded leaves away from the rhubarb patch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Then quiet settles again. Randy gathers the pile of rhubarb leaves, tidying the area around the old smokehouse.

We visited near the lilacs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

We head back toward the farmhouse, this time rousing Barb and Bob, who earlier did not hear Randy’s knocks. We settle in for a chat which turns into a lengthy conversation in the shade of trees, near the lilac bush, in their front yard garden. Birds sing. Butterflies fly. Words rise. Cold, filtered well water poured from a fancy pitcher into thick, hefty glasses quenches thirst. The four of us simply enjoy each other’s company. No hurry. Nowhere to be.

Birdhouse on an outbuilding. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I step away to photograph several of Barb’s many birdhouses.

The shy farm cat. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

And then the orange farm cat appears. I excuse myself again, to photograph Fred, who requires significant coaxing to come closer. But he is skittish. My camera lens, followed by the click of the shutter scares him away.

Bird bath art on the farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I circle back to the conversation circle, passing a bird bath with a trio of ballet dancers centering that circle. They are graceful and beautiful and seemingly out of place in this rural setting. Yet, they are not. The countryside overflows with grace and beauty. The grace of silence and solitude. And the beauty of the natural world.

On this day, I need this. To be in the serenity of this quiet place. To take in the countryside. To see the sky, the trees, the land. To talk with Barb and Bob. And then to leave with a clutch of rhubarb and the promise of warm rhubarb crisp pulled from the oven.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mother’s Day gratitude: In her words, my mom’s gift to me May 10, 2023

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Mom’s journals stacked in a tote. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

DAYS BEFORE MOTHER’S DAY, I slide a clear plastic tote from a closet in the bedroom where my daughters once slept. I unlatch the lid. An overwhelming musty odor rises from the spiral-bound notebooks layered inside.

These are my mom’s journals. The story of her life recorded on paper from 1947 until her final entry on March 4, 2014, with a few years missing.

Mom died in January 2022. She left this handwritten documentation of an ordinary, yet extraordinary, life. As her oldest daughter and as a writer, I cherish the words she penned. They are not flowery poetic or personal entries, but rather a record of life as a farm wife and mother to six. Days that revolved around family, faith and farm life.

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

With Mother’s Day only days away, I chose Mom’s 1955 journal, the year she became a mother, to begin reading. Mom invited her parents over for a Mother’s Day goose dinner that May, about two months before she gave birth to my oldest brother. I flipped ahead to July, reading her entries in the days right before Doug was born. Even at full-term, she kept working as hard as ever, freezing 24 boxes of green beans, canning a crate of cherries, pulling weeds in the garden and ironing clothes within days of delivering an 8-pound baby.

A page in an altered book crafted by my friend Kathleen. This page honors me and my mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Fast forward to May 1956. Mom notes in her Mother’s Day and subsequent entries that her mom went to the “Heart Hospital” on May 10 and came home May 17. Some six months later, Josephine died of a heart attack. She was only 48. And I was only two months old. I cannot imagine the grief my mom felt in the unexpected death of her mother. But she never put those emotions on paper. Rather her diary entries are straight forward, almost of journalistic detachment. Notations of her mom’s December 1 death, a funeral and writing thank yous.

My mom saved everything, including this Mother’s Day card I made for her in elementary school. I cut a flower from a seed catalog to create the front of this card. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

On the next Mother’s Day in May 1957 and through 1961, there are no references to any special way in which my mom was honored. No gifts. No special meal. Only that I had a bad case of the measles as a nine-month-old. In May 1962, my brother had the mumps. But I did give Mom a paper flower at a school Mother’s Day program.

In entries in the years that followed, Mom always wrote of attending the Mother’s Day programs at Vesta Elementary School. I hold vague memories of standing on the stage, reading a poem about lavenders blue dilly dilly in verse that now eludes me.

And although I don’t remember, I gave Mom plants and, in 1967, “a fancy flower,” whatever that means. But most meaningful to me, a writer, was the gift of a writing pad to Mom in 1964. Now, in return, I have the gift of her words written in perfect, flowing penmanship.

In May 1963, Mom got a Whirlpool dishwasher. In May 1968, she redeemed Green Stamps for two lamps. She also got an automatic Maytag washing machine with suds saver for $300 from Quesenberry’s Appliance in Redwood Falls. I can only imagine how these Mother’s Day gifts of dishwasher and automatic washer eased her workload.

A section of a family-themed photo board I created for Mom’s January 2022 funeral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

I wish I’d realized while growing up on the farm just how hard my mother worked. That would come later in life, when I became a mom in 1986, raising three kids, not six like her. In her final years, I thanked Mom many times for loving and caring for me, for raising me to be kind, compassionate, caring and a woman of faith. I hugged her and held her hand and cried whenever I left her care center, each time wondering if it would be the last time I would see Mom.

One of my favorite later photos with Mom, taken in 2017. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

Now, as I mark my second Mother’s Day without the mom I loved, still love, tears edge my eyes. I read page after page after page of her writing. Gratitude rises for this legacy she’s left, this story of her ordinary life on a southwestern Minnesota farm, this story of a mother who loved, labored, and lived a full and beautiful life.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Linoleum block print art stories from the prairie February 15, 2023

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“Main Street,” watercolored block print by Nan Karr Kaufenberg. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

MANY DECADES AGO, in a time when gender roles factored strongly into classes a student could and couldn’t take in high school, I learned to carve a design into a linoleum block for printing. Girls and boys traded classes for two weeks with female students allowed into the male-dominated world of shop class. The guys headed to the home economics kitchens to acquire basic cooking and baking skills.

Nan Karr Kaufenberg’s depiction of a farm site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Oh, how things have changed since I was an early 1970s high school student briefly surrounded by saws and tools and other equipment and carving art into a linoleum block. I don’t recall the design I crafted. But I do remember feeling empowered inside that industrial arts shop, my eyes opened to possibilities that stretched beyond societal limitations.

The Arts Center in downtown Marshall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Maybe that experience is partially why I am drawn to linoleum block prints. On a return trip to my native southwestern Minnesota prairie in September, I visited the Marshall Area Fine Arts Council Arts Center which was hosting an exhibit, appropriately named “Block Party,” by watercolor block print artist Nan Karr Kaufenberg of Redwood Falls. I’d previously seen, and admired, her work.

Nan Karr Kaufenberg’s “Coneflowers.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
Feeding cattle focus this print by Nan Karr Kaufenberg. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
“Clothesline” by Nan Karr Kaufenberg. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

That admiration remains for this artist who observes the prairie world around her and then creates. I feel comfortably at home with her interpretations of rural southwestern Minnesota. Her depictions of prairie flowers, farm scenes, small towns, even laundry on a clothesline, touch me with that sense of familiarity, that feeling of connection to a place I called home and forever hold dear.

A block print by Nan Karr Kaufenberg of The Old Corner Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

For more than 30 years, Kaufenberg, who has art degrees (from the University of Minnesota and Southwest Minnesota State University), who once worked at a tourism center in extreme southwestern Minnesota (she moved following the 2001 high profile murder of her daughter Carrie Nelson), and who is also a realtor, has specialized in tinted linoleum block prints. She colors her printed designs with watercolors. The results are simply stunning. Bold black stamped ink softened by watercolor.

“Laying Hens” by Bradley D. Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Granite Falls artist Bradley D. Hall does the same, hand-carving linoleum blocks, then hand-printing the inked block design before hand-coloring with watercolors. I also saw his work inside the Marshall Arts Center. While similar to that of Kaufenberg in its rural themes, Hall’s art features finer black lines. Each artist has developed a certain identifiable style with the same basic art form.

A view of the Marshall Arts Center gift shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Hall, who left southwestern Minnesota for Chicago and worked there for 20 years in factories, returned to his native Granite Falls in 2002 to open a studio. By then he’d already taken numerous art classes, including at the American Academy of Art in downtown Chicago. Upon his return to Minnesota, Hall connected with letterpress artist Andy Kahmann of A to Z Letterpress in Montevideo and learned the arts of linoleum block carving and printmaking. I love that these creatives shared with, and learned from, one another.

“Windmill” by Bradley D. Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

More than 50 years ago, industrial arts teacher Ralph Brown shared his linoleum block print skills with me and a shop full of other teenage girls at Wabasso High School. Those two weeks of hands-on learning inside a place typically reserved for male students proved pivotal. I could see the world beginning to crack open to young women, emerging women who would ink life with their designs, their styles, their strong bold lines.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Artwork photographed with permission of the Marshall Area Fine Arts Council Arts Center. Individual art is copyrighted by the artists.

 

Nebraska the movie, not the place January 27, 2023

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An edited photo of the DVD cover. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo January 2023)

IT TAKES A LOT for a movie to hold my interest. I’d rather read a book. But the 2013 film “Nebraska” certainly grabbed, and held, my interest.

By self-admittance, I seldom watch movies. I can’t recall the last movie I saw inside a theater. Or rather, I should clarify, the last time I watched a movie in its entirety in a theater. I walked out on a “John Wick” film not even an hour in. That was on a rainy Memorial Day weekend in 2019 when, for lack of anything better to do, Randy, Caleb and I decided to go to the movies. I knew nothing of “John Wick” or the level of violence portrayed in this series. I watched for awhile, fidgeted, closed by eyes, then walked out, demanded a refund and got one. I haven’t been inside a movie theater since.

Yes, I acknowledge ignorance about movies, about the film industry, about actors and actresses and nearly anything Hollywood-related. I mostly dislike the obsessive hype and adoration. Certainly, talented creatives exist in the field. But often the attention and praise heaped on Hollywood seem excessive.

Faribault’s vacated Family Video, closed in February 2021. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2021)

But then along comes a film like “Nebraska,” which Randy found at our local library while I was browsing for books. Buckham Memorial Library is our source for DVDs since the closing of Faribault’s Family Video about a year ago. Not that we frequented the video rental store much, but occasionally. Just like we occasionally check out movies from the library. Our kids laugh that we still watch DVDs. But, hey, we still get our television reception from a rooftop antenna and don’t stream anything. We are old school that way and I’m OK with that. Like I said, I prefer reading a book.

Back to the 10-year-old film “Nebraska.” Although it didn’t win any of the six Academy Awards for which it was nominated, it should have. I loved everything about the movie which tells the story of Woody Grant (Bruce Dern) on a road trip from Billings, Montana, to Lincoln, Nebraska, with his son David (Will Forte). The plot revolves around the aging Woody’s belief that he’s won a mega sweepstakes prize. You know, the kind of “prize” announced in a mailing to unsuspecting folks who, like Woody, fail to read the fine print.

The storyline premise is basic and believable, the characters realistic. As the plot progresses and word gets out about Woody’s presumed wealth, family and friends appear, wanting a share of the money. Greed emerges, just as in real life when families squabble over inheritances and possessions.

This shot of Main Street in Belview in my home county on the prairie looks similar to scenes in “Nebraska.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted & edited file photo)

Set in rural America—from small town Main Street (Woody’s hometown) to corner bar to rural cemetery—the scenes in “Nebraska” look a lot like the southwestern Minnesota prairie where I grew up. No surprise given the Nebraska filming locations. I felt comfortably at home in the landscapes of this movie while settled in my Minnesota home.

That the film shows totally in black-and-white strips the scenes, allowing characters and dialogue and setting to shine without distractions. At first I thought this was a Coen brothers (of “A Serious Man” and “Fargo” fame) movie. It’s not. Alexander Payne directs “Nebraska.” The music reminds me of the music in “Sweet Land,” another all-time favorite film.

“Nebraska” mixes drama and comedy to create a movie that is simultaneously entertaining, sad, funny, insightful and every day ordinary. Kate Grant (June Squibb), the strong and opinionated woman married to Woody, delivers some of the film’s most powerfully honest and comedic moments.

I wish I’d viewed this movie in a theater rather than horizontally elongated on a TV screen. I know for certain that I would have sat there focused, fully-engaged, eyes wide open until the very end.

TELL ME: Have you seen “Nebraska”? If yes, what are your thoughts on the film? Any movies you recommend I check out from my local library or view in a movie theater?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A country drive to see fall colors northwest of Faribault October 6, 2022

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A view of the colorful foliage along Seventh Street in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

ON THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE DAY of viewing fall colors in southern Minnesota, Randy and I headed northwest of Faribault to area lakes. But even before we got out of town, we drove along two city streets—Second Avenue by Bethlehem Academy north to Seventh Street and then Seventh Street—which are particularly beautiful in autumn. There’s no need to leave Faribault to see stunning trees of orange, red and yellow mixed with brown and green.

A sweeping view of Kelly Lake and the colorful treeline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Yet, there’s something about a colorful lakeshore treeline against the October sky that is particularly lovely. Thus I suggest a country drive. Perhaps my favorite area autumn color viewing spot is at the public boat landing on Kelly Lake. We return there each fall and Randy joked that I could just use the same photos taken last year. I didn’t.

Belview Trail just outside Faribault winds past farm sites. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Hay bales line a hillside along CR 64. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)
A well-kept barn near Roberds Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

We edged Roberds Lake after trailing a winding gravel road past farm sites. Country drives are, by definition, about immersing ourselves in the country. Appreciating ripening corn and soybean fields, stately barns, ginormous round hay bales staged in a field… And then hugging the side of the road upon meeting a massive combine.

Sun and clouds mix over colorful woods near Roberds Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Mostly, I take in the landscape, this October day set against moody clouds on blue sky. Clouds create interest, depth, interesting patterns to backdrop fields and trees.

Shoreline and lake merge to create a “painting” of Kelly Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

I see curves and lines and the way everything flows, first with my eyes, then through the viewfinder of my aged Canon EOS 20-D camera. Water flows into trees, trees into sky. It all comes together to create this scene, this autumn.

A view of Lake Mazaska through the shoreline grasses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

At the west-side boat landing in Shieldsville, Randy noted the low water level of Lake Mazaska. It would be impossible to launch a boat here. I photographed the lake through a stand of grass, perhaps bulrushes. A peeling, aged sign a block away landmarked Bulrush Bay.

Brilliant sumac by Kelly Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Individual leaves and stems of grass don’t go unnoticed. The singleness merges into the whole. This whole of autumn in Rice County.

A picturesque creek along County Road 64/Irwin Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

We lunched at McCullough County Park on Shields Lake, swatting bees and beetles, before continuing our drive along County Road 64/Irwin Trail. An especially picturesque creek cutting through the land called for a stop, a photo.

One of many winding gravel roads we followed through the countryside, around lakes… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

And then onward we drove, up and down and all around on gravel roads, the van kicking dust.

Among the many wooded hillside ablaze in color. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Traveling at a slower pace allows for taking in the unfolding landscape. Cornfield nudging a clump of colored trees. So much to see if only we look.

The historic Czech church and surrounding cemetery in Shieldsville Township. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

And then a stop, an opportunity to stretch our legs and explore Trebon Cemetery surrounding an historic Czech church, the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, established in 1886. We discovered this sacred place at the intersection of County Road 63/Kanabec Avenue and County Road 37/160th Street West several years ago. Like last visit, I wished I could get inside the church, but had to settle for peering through windows. The view of the countryside from the cemetery grounds is stunning.

This smiley face is a local landmark along Roberds Lake Boulevard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Aiming back toward Faribault, we passed the smiley face painted on the side of a building at the intersection of Roberds Lake Boulevard and County Road 37/West 185th Street. It’s been there forever, a rural landmark that makes me smile every time I see that happiness icon.

I appreciate homemade signage, including this well-worn sign by Lake Mazaska. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

Several hours in the rural Rice County countryside filled my spirit with happiness. Autumn has a way of weaving joy into my life with her color, her last hurrah before winter arrives. So I say, get out there. Take a country drive. Slow down. Pause. Delight in these October days.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The creative side of a southern Minnesota farm show September 5, 2022

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The Milk Shakes booth has a decidedly rural theme with Holstein cow art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

AS A WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER, I view life through a creative lens. That means, even at a farm-themed event like the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show, I notice the artsy side.

Dancing in the music shed to the band Steam Machine Friday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I attended the show in rural Dundas on Friday. While most attendees focus on the field of tractors, the multiple ag-related demonstrations, the flea market and more, I also focus on creative details within the all of it. Like hand-lettered signage, handcrafted items, music, and, yes, even the couple dancing to bluegrass tunes performed by Steam Machine.

Flea market attendees try out a vendor’s yard chairs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

The arts, whether literary, visual or performing, enhance our lives, bringing joy, comfort, diversion, entertainment, introspection and much more.

Cute crocheted animals by Kay Dudley. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I value the talents of those who create. I create with words and with my camera. Put a paintbrush or crochet hook in my hand and I would be hard-pressed to make anything worthy of notice. But, gosh, do I admire creatives like Kay Dudley of Faribault who brought her crocheted animals to the flea market. Likewise, I admire the skill of the woodworker who built the sturdy yard chairs for sale.

Hand-embroidered linens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

On the other end of the show grounds, I found more to appreciate in the 1912 farmhouse. Embroidered linens displayed in the kitchen caught my eye. I know how to embroider, although decades have passed since I picked up a needle, embroidery floss and a hoop to stitch a design into cloth. I really ought to resume that craft.

A vintage doll nestles in a quilt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

In another room of the farmhouse, a doll laid upon a quilt, reminding me of my paternal grandmother who stitched endless quilts for her family, me included. I was quite the seamstress as a teen, sewing many of my clothes and dresses for Grandma, too. She could quilt, but she couldn’t make her own clothes. I always found that interesting. I haven’t touched my sewing machine in years.

An original painting of a country schoolhouse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I was especially interested in the original painting of a rural schoolhouse scene propped on a table in the farmhouse. The vintage art, scored at a Goodwill store for $5, is exactly the type of art I collect.

David Terry hand-carved a 1920 threshing scene displayed inside a large case in the music building. This is just a portion of his work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

In my collection is a North Dakota threshing scene painted by my father-in-law and among my most treasured pieces of original art. So when I saw a hand-carved threshing scene displayed in the music building at the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show, I was reminded of Tom’s painting. I display it this time of year atop the entertainment center in my living room.

A handmade sign identifies the owner of a vintage John Deere tractor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Original paintings and other original art, including signs, always draw my appreciation. There’s just something about a handcrafted sign that makes me pause, take notice, remember. From signage on tractors to signage on buildings to signage among the food vendors, I noticed the creativity.

Loved this hand-drawn art posted by the food service window of El Tacazo Mexican Delights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Every piece of art I spotted added to my enjoyment of this southern Minnesota farm-themed show. Certainly I value the ag and history aspects of this event. But I value, too, the creativity.

An anvil-shaped sign fittingly marks the Blacksmith Shop where attendees can watch blacksmiths at work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

FYI: Click here to read my first general overall post on the 2022 Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show. And click here to read my second post highlighting tractors.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling