Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Take this snow and shove (shovel) it March 20, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:23 PM
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ON THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING in Minnesota, my true love gave to me…chicken on the grill.

But, before he could cook the chicken, he shoveled 2 ½ feet of snow from the patio to access the Weber. That would be the grill which, until yesterday, lay tipped on its side, having toppled off a melting snow mountain.

After shoveling his way to the grill, he fired it up.

But, as anyone knows, even in winter-spring, a man cannot grill without beer. So my true love chiseled a bottle of Nordeast into an icy snow bank to reach icy perfection. By the time I photographed the chilling beer, the bottle was nearly empty.

Later he iced a bottle of Grain Belt Premium.

And so on the first day of spring in Minnesota, I did not get five golden rings or a partridge in a pear tree. Yes, I am well aware that I am referencing The Twelve Days of Christmas here. But with all the snow still remaining in our northern state, December 25 seems like yesterday.

Rather, on this fine spring day (if you call 40-plus degree temps, rain and thunder in the morning, and snow-blotched lawns and boulevards “fine”), I got chicken, and potatoes, on the grill.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The promise of spring in a seed packet

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:29 AM
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A few of the flower seed packets I have stashed away for the upcoming gardening season.

WHEN MY FRIEND MANDY offered me a pick of flower seed packets recently, I snatched up the cosmos. Next to zinnias, they are my favorite flower to grow from seed.

The simple sight of photographed blooms on a seed package lifted my spirits on a night when snow was falling. Again.

It has been an incredibly long winter here in Minnesota with more snow than I can recall in years. Thus, the possibility of spring seems as unlikely as state high school basketball tournaments without a blizzard.

But for now, a gardener can dream of cupping tiny seeds in her palm and scattering them upon soil that holds the promise of summer. She can dream of snipping stems, of gathering colorful blooms into beautiful, bountiful bouquets.

I WROTE THIS POST 10 days ago and simply didn’t get around to publishing it until today, the first day of spring. This morning, while in church, I heard the boom of thunder. It is raining here, with a brisk wind.

Snow mountains are melting. Wide swatches of muddied grass lie exposed to the elements, a welcome sight after this long and weary winter. But then again, snow is forecast for later this week, as tips of tulip plants push through the soil. This is Minnesota, after all, and we are never quite certain when spring will officially arrive. We mark the season by the arrival of warmth and bared grass and emerging flowers, not by a day on the calendar.

 

A bouquet of wildflowers plucked from a public garden (not by me) in Fulda, Minnesota, last summer.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Too much winter already December 2, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:48 AM
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Now, would you call this recently-photographed scene a winter or fall landscape?

I HATE TO ADMIT THIS already, especially since the calendar just flipped to December. But I am tired of winter.

Technically, though, I should state that I am tired of fall given winter does not officially begin until December 21. Really? Looking outside my office window, I see snow and bare trees, pretty much a winter landscape if you ask me.

A frosty view of the winter sunrise through my home office window. We're getting five new windows soon, which should make the house a bit more cozy.

The calendar says otherwise.

For me, though, winter arrives when I find myself snuggling under a warm lap throw while sitting at my computer, watching TV, reading a book and, yes, even while eating dinner or supper. (Note that I did not say “lunch or dinner” per deference to my rural roots.)

I wrongly assumed that installation of a new furnace last year would banish cold air from our house and allow me to permanently stash the pile of wool and fleece throws in the back corner of the closet. Uh, uh.

If I notched the thermostat beyond 67 degrees, I suppose I would feel warmer. But I am stubborn and frugal and I have a strong history of fending off the cold via methods other than cranking up the heat.

I grew up in a drafty old farmhouse where, every winter, the foundation was first wrapped in brown paper and then snuggled with straw bales. The house was heated by an oil-burning stove in the living room. That stove didn’t exactly provide much warmth for “the girls'” upstairs, west-facing bedroom, which endured the brunt of the unrelenting prairie winds.

My sister burned her behind on that stove once when she got a little too close while warming up after her weekly Saturday night bath. (She didn’t tell anyone until the burn festered.) Yes, we took baths only once a week, in a tin tub hauled into the kitchen. In the winter Mom turned on the oven and opened the door, either to keep us warm or to keep the bathwater from freezing, I’m not sure.

After pondering those childhood days, I have to wonder now why I’m complaining about winter. Really, I don’t have it so bad—no tin tub, no oil-burning stove to light with a farmer match, no bales stacked around the house, no plastic covering storm windows…

If I really, really want to, I can bump the thermostat up a few degrees.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Autumn splendor in my Minnesota backyard October 10, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:20 AM
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LATELY I’VE BEEN so focused on driving somewhere to view the fall colors that I’ve failed to notice the autumn splendor in my backyard.

But when Arkansas relatives stopped the other day and remarked on the brilliant foliage, I paused to look. They were right.

My neighbor’s maples are ablaze in eye-popping orange and golden hues dappled with green.

And behind my house, the single maple is transitioning from green to yellow.

Curling leaves already carpet the lawn.

When I stepped outside early Thursday morning to hang laundry on the clothesline, I paused, basket in hand, and stared at the cobalt blue sky. Only in autumn do you see a sky so profoundly, deeply, purely blue.

I set the basket down on the steps. The wet clothes could wait a minute or ten. I rushed inside, grabbed my camera and aimed toward the sky, the trees, then toward the ground to those fallen leaves…

over to the petunias

and the hydrangea

and the mums.

God’s creation, in glorious splendor, awaited me. And on this day, I chose to see the beauty He had given to me, right in my backyard.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling