Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Experiencing fall colors in Faribault one final time (maybe) this season November 2, 2023

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Individual leaves, like this maple, are works of art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

TEMPS DIPPING INTO THE LOW 20s definitely feel more like winter than autumn here in southern Minnesota. I pulled on my parka, stocking cap and mittens earlier this week for my morning walk.

A still colorful treeline behind Pollard Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

But the weekend, oh, the weekend, even if only in the 30s, was a wonderful one for final fall walks. I wanted one last glimpse of the foliage. Leaves have dropped from many trees, but some remain, like stubborn, defiant kids refusing to leave the playground.

A solitary oak set against the backdrop of Noyes Hall is simply stunning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Per our usual weekend walking route, Randy and I headed to the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf on Faribault’s east side. I love walking here. It’s quiet, secluded and just plain achingly beautiful. From aged limestone buildings to green space to a wooded area behind the buildings, there’s much to appreciate. Nature and old architecture always appeal to me as does a safe, unimpeded place to walk.

The woods I was drawn to explore. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Typically we stick to following sidewalks or crossing parking lots. But this time we diverged into the wooded area behind Pollard Hall, a boarded up building and the HVAC and maintenance headquarters. I’d previously seen people with their dogs tracking across the grass near woods’ edge. But we’d never detoured to explore, mostly because in the summer and early autumn the woods appear a dense forest. Now with most leaves fallen, the space opened up, drawing me in.

We followed a leaf-strewn, narrow dirt path for a ways into the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Since I’m directionally challenged in a town that is not prairie grid straight, I wondered what lay beyond the woods, below the bluff. After a bit of crunching over leaves, dodging branches and skirting trees, I saw the answer. Below lay the river and train tracks and Straight River Apartments next to Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. Finally, I understood my geographical placement.

Woods, hills, fallen leaves and creek bed meld behind MSAD. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Mostly I took in the topography of hills bumping into each other, a dry creekbed twisting between. Yellow leaves covered the hillsides as thick as shag carpeting, but much lovelier.

Oak leaves blanket the lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Once out of the woods, Randy alerted me to two deer near the HVAC building. A third had already run away upon spotting us. But the other two stood still as statues, fully aware of our presence. We mimicked them, opting to stand quietly and appreciate their unexpected appearance. As much as I dislike deer along roadways, I find them endearing in any other location. Finally the pair decided they’d had enough of this stare off. They white-tailed it across the grass, disappearing over a hill.

Sometimes you have to look up, directly up, to see the beauty, like this oak tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

And so we continued on, me pulling out my cellphone once again to snap photos of the remaining colorful trees. My mind understands that soon this landscape will be devoid of color, transformed to the black-and-white of winter. But on this weekend, I pushed those thoughts mostly aside, focusing instead on autumn’s lingering beauty.

© Copyright 2023 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

 

First frost in Faribault October 10, 2023

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Flowers were covered to protect them from frost Monday morning at The River Church, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

FROST LAYERED WINDOWS of the neighbor’s 1970s Ford Gran Torino Monday morning. Frost also skimmed roofs, spotted lawns, nipped uncovered plants.

October 9 marked the first light frost in Faribault, a clear indication of winter’s impending arrival.

There was a time when I would have raced around the evening before a predicted frost, covering plants with old sheets. The desire ran strong to extend autumn by keeping outdoor flowers and other plants alive. No more. I no longer plant flowers in pots like I once did given the cost and work. Rather, I rely on primarily perennials to splash color and greenery into my yard.

Cyclamen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Only the oregano, rosemary and cyclamen, which I winter over, needed protection from Monday’s below freezing temps. So Randy carried those pots into the garage in the dark of Sunday evening.

Monday morning we arose to that first frost, turned on the furnace for the first time this fall, then slipped on our jackets, stocking caps and gloves and headed to Central Park for our morning walk. City employees were already there, shortly after 8 am, loading picnic tables and park benches onto a trailer and pick-up truck bed for winter storage.

Across the street, a lawn service company edged the sidewalk of grass at an apartment complex, making for easier snow removal come winter.

Across the street from the apartments, blankets and tarps draped flowers and plants at The River Church.

In the brilliant sunshine of this cold October morning, we walked away from and around Central Park, pausing to chat briefly with a Korean War veteran shoving his walker along the sidewalk. It’s part of his morning routine. He was an engineer in the war, tasked once with building a bridge in Korea. His brothers also served in various wars. All came home.

Home. On this day this veteran shared how he misses his lake home, how his children convinced him to move into cooperative senior living housing by the park. He shouldn’t have listened to his kids, he said, sadness tinging his voice.

Enjoying a summer concert at Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

Change. It can be tough. Randy and I continued on in the inevitable change of seasons. Past the band shell, where seniors and others once settled onto park benches, picnic tables and lawn chairs for summer concerts. And then back to the van for the drive home in the bright sunshine.

The backyard maple, still mostly green in early October. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Back home I pulled laundry from the washing machine, carted the basket up the basement stairs, opened the door to the boldness of October, to the backyard maple still mostly green. It’s been an odd autumn of up and down temps which messed with fall colors.

I unwound the clothesline, then began clipping laundry on the line. Methodically. Placing heavier items like bluejeans in the full sun. Soon my fingertips felt the cold—from the cold morning and the dampness of the cold clothes.

And then, when I finished, I stepped inside the garage, carried out the pots of oregano, rosemary and cyclamen into the balminess of 40-degree temps.

© Copyright 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

 

“So much snow,” yup, that’s winter in Minnesota May 23, 2023

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Our three snow removal shovels. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2021)

DISCLAIMER: If you don’t want to read the words snow or winter, then stop reading. This is a post about both. But also about spring. And a book.

Three prompts led me to write on this seasonal topic. First, when I was scanning my mom’s journals recently, I came across a May 11, 1966, entry in which she wrote, “Snow on the ground.” This didn’t surprise me. Occasionally snow falls in southern Minnesota in May. While I don’t recall the 1966 snow Mom references, I do remember driving back from my native prairie once on Memorial Day weekend to see snow atop a car in New Ulm. That would be at the end of May.

Secondly, a few weeks ago, Randy asked whether he should put the snow shovels away. I encouraged him to wait. And he did, until he felt confident the possibility of snow had passed. It has. I hope.

Finally, a new children’s picture book, So Much Snow by Minnesotan Kristen Schroeder, prompted this post. The book recently won the 2023 Minnesota Book Award in children’s literature. It’s as if Schroeder had the winter of 2022-2023 in mind when she penned this story. This past winter proved among our snowiest ever in Minnesota. The winter we thought would never end.

With minimal words per page, Schroeder writes the story of a week-long snowfall. Day after day after day the snow piles high around a menagerie of animals. Rabbit, fox, bear, moose… Illustrator Sarah Jacoby’s art has a dreamy, soft quality, just like the falling snow. That both artist (from Pittsburgh) and author understand winter is clear in their work.

Eventually, the sun shines, the snow melts, the grass greens. And spring, so it seems, has arrived. But then, a last page surprise. You can probably guess what that may be. It happens here in Minnesota seemingly every year. Just when we think winter has ended…

FYI: To read a short interview with Kristen Schroeder, click here.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The greening of spring in southern Minnesota May 9, 2023

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Buds begin to open on my backyard maple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

AS A WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER, I view the natural world through a creative lens. I appreciate the nuances that comprise the whole. And right now those details are sharp, vivid and nearly visually overwhelming (in a good way) after living for too many months in a monochromatic environment.

The maple flush in unfurling leaves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I need only step into my yard to take in the greening of spring. Buds forming and then unfurling on the maple.

Bleeding hearts dangle, preparing to open. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Clumped, clamped buds about to open into fuchsia bleeding hearts.

A tightly-clasped fiddlehead. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Curled fiddleheads stretching, soon to unfold into fronds of ferns that wave in the wind.

My tulips are in full bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Within the perimeters of my property, spring bursts in new growth. Tiny green buds line the thick wood stalks of old-fashioned hydrangea that will soon fill the spaces flanking my front steps. Red and yellow tulips jolt color into flowerbeds, among a jumbo of irises that will eventually blossom in yellow and purple, their sweet scent a reminder of my mother. Iris was her favorite flower.

Tiger lilies grow wild on my backyard hillside, here emerging from winter dormancy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Oh, how I love these early days of May. These days when everything appears lush and intensely green. Spring green. Vibrant. It’s as if every bright green in a box of Crayola crayons colors the landscape. And when the sky is intensely blue, the greens seem even more intense.

Even my rake is green. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

These are the days when dandelions pop and grass seemingly grows as you watch. These are the days, too, of raking away the leaf remnants of last fall and cutting back dead flower stems and mentally transitioning into this season we’ve been awaiting since the first snow fell.

My neighbor’s unidentified flowers grow just around the corner of my fence, jolting color into the landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

It was an undeniably long winter in Minnesota with near-record snowfall, with teases of spring (even summer) before snow fell again. We are now only finally beginning to believe that we can put away the snow shovels, shove the snowblowers into the corners of our garages, banish winter coats to the back of the closet.

The wooded hillside behind my garage and house is just beginning to fill in with green. We own the open part of this hillside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Every day of warm temps and blue skies and new greens convinces me that this is for real. Spring has finally arrived in southern Minnesota in her poetically beautiful way. I hear it in birdsong, in the piercing whistle of a cardinal flashing red in the wooded hillside behind my house. I hear it in the rhythmic raking of dried leaves. I hear it in the roar of motorcycles flying down my street.

A raspberry vine shadows across the limestone wall Randy built many years ago from the foundation of a fallen barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

But mostly I see the shift of seasons in the greening of spring, of trees no longer bare, but spreading in a canopy of green. Of wild raspberries stretching across limestone wall to latch into the earth. Of hostas erupting.

My neighbor’s lovely low-lying flowers, up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

This marks a time of renewal, of hope, of emerging from the cocooning quiet and oppressiveness of winter into a world that feels, looks, sounds utterly and joyfully alive.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Goodbye, Faribo Frosty, & welcome, spring April 6, 2023

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Faribo Frosty’s smile has turned to a frown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2023)

FARIBO FROSTY ISN’T RUNNING away with promises to return next winter. Instead, he’s melting in place, his once broad smile replaced by a frown.

But Faribault’s ginormous snowman, crafted by the Andy Hoisington family, may be the only one saddened by the 50 and 60-degree temps forecast for southern Minnesota beginning on Friday. I’m smiling and I expect many others are, too. It’s been an incredibly snowy winter with our seasonal snowfall total in the top three for Minnesota. This has been a forever winter.

In late February, Faribo Frosty was still smiling and making so many people smile. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2023)

And even though it saddens me to see rotund, 17-foot tall Faribo Frosty slimming down and eventually melting into a puddle, I expect he really will be back. The Hoisingtons have built and maintained an over-sized snowman for 18 years, their gift to the community and a reason to smile.

Snow and blowing snow defined areas of Minnesota earlier this week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2020 used for illustration only)

I am smiling wide these days as the snow pack dwindles, revealing dormant grass. Everywhere I look, lawns are visible. Yes, snow still covers shaded areas and snow piles remain. But mostly, it’s beginning to look like spring here, which if you go by the calendar, it is. Tell that to the good Minnesotans who found themselves in yet another blizzard earlier this week.

Along the foundation on the south side of my house, tulips poked through decaying leaves even as snow fell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2019)

Here in southern Minnesota, rain, rather than snow, fell. Temps, though, stubbornly continue in the 30s with a raw wind. So winter coats are still the dress code of the day.

These tulips, a gift from blogger friend Paula (a native Minnesotan) in the Netherlands, popped color into my life in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)

But winter is loosening its hold under pressure from the sun. Tulips and other spring perennials are popping through the soil in my yard. A few more weeks and they will blaze bold hues. And if I rooted around, I expect I would find crocuses emerging under a layer of leaf mulch.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Another sure sign of spring are spring openers for the Minnesota Twins and the St. Paul Saints. The major and minor league baseball teams rescheduled their openers this week because of weather. No one really wants to sit in a stadium and watch baseball in 30-degree temps coupled with strong winds. But by the time the ball hits the glove late this afternoon (Saints) and on Friday (Twins), conditions should be comfortable, if not balmy by early April in Minnesota standards.

Crocuses emerge from leaf mulch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

So, yes, I think we’ve turned the corner. Faribo Frosty will need to accept that and graciously exit while promising to return again some day…long after the crocuses are done blooming.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What to do when winter hangs on in Minnesota March 31, 2023

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It’s still cold enough for winter gear here in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2018)

WINTER RETAINS ITS firm grip on Minnesota, even in this official season of spring. We are in a Winter Storm Warning for Friday evening through Saturday morning with some 4-6 inches of snow forecast for my area along with wind gusts to 45 mph. Other parts of Minnesota will see more snow and wind, resulting in blizzard conditions.

Temps have also been unseasonably cold. Think below zero in some areas of our state earlier in the week. We did not reach 50 degrees in March, unusual even by Minnesota averages.

What to do? Endure. Escape. Or embrace.

The definition of endure is obvious. Don warm clothes, crank up the heat and wait.

A loon family on Horseshore Lake south of Crosslake in central Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

Escape means traveling to some place warm, like Arizona or Florida or California or Texas. Plenty of Minnesotans do exactly that over spring break. Or, when that’s not an option, envision the summer ahead and a Minnesota northwoods lakeside cabin. I’m picturing that in my mind, in mid-July, warm sand between my toes, water lapping, blue skies, loons calling…

A beautiful summer day at Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

Or, if you’re a south metro first grade teacher, you can embrace, or rather defy, the cold with Beach Day. On a 10-degree morning, my almost 7-year-old granddaughter headed off to school in a tank top and shorts, prepared to celebrate a day at the beach. An oversized sun and waves graphic defined her defiant, colorful shirt. Per her mom’s care, Izzy layered her snowpants and winter coat over her summer attire and packed a sweatshirt.

On the beach at Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

The wise teacher advised students they could wear shorts, “if you want to be cold.” Apparently Izzy and a few others wanted to be cold. Ah, the optimism of youth who weren’t about to allow a low morning temp of 10 degrees to spoil their day at the beach.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Alright, winter, time to leave Minnesota as spring arrives March 20, 2023

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Trees bud at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault, in late May 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

TODAY, THE FIRST DAY of spring, hope springs that this long winter of too much snow will soon exit Minnesota. Most Minnesotans, including me, are weary of days marked by new snowfall that has accumulated, pushing this 2022-2023 winter season into top 10 records in our state.

Asparagus, one of my favorite spring vegetables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But now, with the official start of a new season on March 20—the season of new life, the season of planting and budding and greening—I feel a mental shift. Psychologically, my mind can envision a landscape shifting from colorless monochrome to vivid greens. I can feel the warmth of warmer days yet to come. I can smell the scent of dirt released, breaking from winter’s grip. I can hear the singsong chatter of returning birds. I can taste asparagus spears snapped from the soil.

A bud beginning to open in late April 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2020)

All of this is yet to come. I understand that. A date on a calendar doesn’t mean spring in Minnesota. That season is realistically weeks away. April can still bring inches of snow.

Crocuses, always the first flower of spring in my flowerbeds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

But we are edging toward spring. I feel that in temps sometimes reaching just past 40 degrees. I feel it in the warmth of the sun, shining brighter, bolder, longer. I see dwindling snow packs and exposed patches of grass. I hear spring in vehicles splashing through puddles rather than crunching across snow. I see spring, too, in the endless potholes pocking roadways.

The first line in my winning poem, posted roadside in 2011. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)

On this first day of spring, I am reminded of a poem I penned in 2011, a poem which splashed across four billboards along a road just off Interstate 94 in Fergus Falls in west central Minnesota. To this day, publication of that poem remains an especially rewarding experience for me as a poet.

Billboard number two of my spring-themed poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

I submitted the poem to the now-defunct Roadside Poetry Project’s spring competition. Poems changed out seasonally in this Fergus Falls Area College Foundation funded contest. It was a bit of a challenge writing a spring-themed poem, as I recall. Not because of the theme, but rather the rules—four lines only with a 20-character-per-line limit. But, as a writer, it’s good to be challenged.

Line three of my Roadside Poetry Project spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

I suppose you could say the same about Minnesota weather. It’s good to be challenged by an especially snowy winter so we appreciate spring’s arrival even more. Yes, that’s a positive perspective—a way to mentally and psychologically talk myself into enduring perhaps six more weeks of winter in this official season of spring.

The last of four billboards featuring my Roadside Poetry spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)

NOTE: I intentionally omitted any pictures showing snow/winter.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A tropical escape from Minnesota March 2, 2023

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This tropical mural graces the side of the former Cancun Grill Mexican Restaurant in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

IF NOT FOR THE SNOW, I can envision this as some place warm and sunny. Some location other than here. Some place with real palm trees, not just those painted on the side of a building.

The closed restaurant is located downtown along a busy state highway that runs right through the heart of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

I can picture myself on the patio, relaxing and conversing at a table with friends, drinking margaritas while the hot sun bakes my skin. But wishful thinking doesn’t land me in Arizona or Texas or California or Florida or Mexico. I am in Minnesota, outside the shuttered Cancun Grill Mexican Restaurant, drawn here by an inviting tropical scene of ocean and palm trees.

Snow blankets an otherwise inviting outdoor dining and drinking space. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

Just days after a major multi-day winter storm dumped some 14 inches of snow on Faribault, I find myself photographing the “for sale” restaurant. The contrast of snow layering tables, chairs and patio against the backdrop tropical-themed mural catches my creative eye, allowing for a visual and mental escape from all this winter.

I’ve never dined at this restaurant, although I wish I had based on the positive online reviews: Authentic wonderful Mexican cuisine. Best tacos here. Excellent burritos and margaritas. Large portions. Delicious. Great service.

Even the Cancun Grill business sign is tropically inviting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

Now it’s too late to experience this taste of Cancun in my southern Minnesota community. But I can dream. I can dream of palm trees I’ve never seen, except at Como Park Conservatory in St. Paul. I can dream of places I’ve never visited. I can dream of staying at an all-inclusive fancy resort, of warm beach sand filtering through my toes and sunshine on my face. I can dream of lazy days lounging by the sea with a good book rather than time spent shoveling snow.

In this moment I am not in Minnesota, enveloped in a wintry landscape. Rather, my imagination melts away the snow, replacing it with beach sand so white I need sunglasses. Ah, this is lovely, this Cancun of fleeting travel.

A fake tropical plant stands inside the gated patio next to the tropical mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

This permanently closed restaurant along busy Fourth Street Northwest/Minnesota State Highway 60 in Faribault offers me a momentary escape. I feel the breeze as palm trees sway against the merging blue sky and water while I sip a strawberry margarita on the sun-drenched patio.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling