Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The birdsong of spring in Minnesota April 16, 2024

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In April 2018, this robin huddled in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

THIS TIME OF YEAR, birds sound louder, their voices amplified. Birds are marking territories, seeking mates. Or perhaps they are announcing their return to Minnesota or their survival of winter, even the mild one of 2023-2024.

A cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)

Cardinals trill. Red-winged blackbirds and robins sing in their distinguishable voices, which I can’t quite describe. But I know them when I hear them.

Red-winged blackbird among dried cattails in a pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2017)

When I step out my backdoor to hang laundry on the clothesline, I hear the morning birdsong, even above the drone of traffic along my busy street. When I walk at the local nature center, I hear birdsong rising from the woods, the marshes, the prairie. To hear birds singing is to hear the refrain of spring.

From the pages of a children’s picture book… Birds announce spring’s arrival in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)

It’s lovely and uplifting and hopeful. And in many ways remarkable. Here are these small feathered creatures singing spring songs that captivate us with their boldness, their melody.

Soon the grass will be lush and long, like a carpet for robins and other birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Each spring, without fail, I find myself listening intently to birdsong as if the song is a new release. In a way, it is. A release from winter’s grip. A release to days that are warmer and greener and teeming with life. Those are the signs, the hopes, of spring in Minnesota.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Edging toward spring in Minnesota, sort of March 28, 2022

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Biking at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault, on March 19. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

GIVE MINNESOTANS A STRING of warm March days like we experienced briefly around the official first day of spring, and we’ll pop out of hibernation in full force.

Note that as I write this, though, snow globe snowflakes descend, layering the landscape and reminding us that, even if the calendar shows spring, in reality it is not. Temps are back into the 30s and 40s after those few days of 50s and 60s, topping 70 degrees.

During that brief hiatus from winter, I observed lots of people out and about while I was out and about. Walkers. Bikers. Babies in strollers. Kids playing in yards. A teen on a hoverboard. And a teen on a skateboard.

Warm weather multiplies the number of motorcycles on the road, too, as they roar out of storage. Note that some bikers ride even in winter, although not during snowfalls.

On that Monday of 70 degrees, I hung laundry on the line and then threw open windows to air out the house. Within minutes of opening windows, the street sweeper crept by, spinning dust clouds. I raced to close street-side windows.

Spring will come. As a life-long Minnesotan, I realize that. It’s just that as I age, winter seems longer. And colder.

TELL ME: Has spring arrived where you live? How do you define spring’s arrival?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on this season of spring in Minnesota March 29, 2021

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In this file photo, snow edges the patio as I’m about to hang laundry on the clothesline in early spring.

WHEN I STEP OUTSIDE to hang sheets and towels on the clothesline, I feel such gratitude for the arrival of spring in southern Minnesota. Winter gets long in these parts.

Crocuses are in full bloom in my front yard flowerbed.

I long for sunshine and blue skies and more light than darkness. Birds tweeting. Crocuses unfolding and tulips stretching above the earth. And no more freezing my fingers while hanging laundry in the morning. Early spring brings all of those.

Laundry on my clothesline. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

I love hanging laundry outside. The rhythm of pulling items from the laundry basket then clipping and repeating soothes me. The physical task gives pause in my day, reconnects me with generations of women who did the same, connects me to nature via the warmth of the sun and the music of birds.

And then, when I reverse the task in the afternoon and carry the air-dried laundry indoors, I breathe in the scent of nature. The air of spring.

A biker swings his bike onto Minnesota State Highway 60/Fourth Street past the Rice County Courthouse on a recent warm spring afternoon.

For others, spring signals biking season. And plenty of bikers have been out and about. Some even earlier, in winter.

My grandson hopscotching in his two-year-old way.

And the kids, oh, the kids. Taking them outside is so much easier with no snowpants or snowboots to pull on. Randy and I played with our grandkids in the driveway of their home last weekend with Izzy circling on her bike and Isaac jumping, rather than hopping, on chalked hopscotch squares. Then we headed to the neighborhood park with Izzy zooming ahead on her bike and me pushing her brother in the stroller, trying to keep up, but failing. At the playground, we pushed both kids in the swings with Isaac calling for “higher.”

Always the first flower of spring in my yard. The beautiful crocus.

How wonderful this time with our grandkids. To be in the moment. To feel their joy. To watch them soar and climb. To hear them laugh. To experience their delight. I feel blessed in this season of life.

TELL ME about your joyful spring moments.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Defining spring in Minnesota March 27, 2019

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Looking skyward in my Faribault, Minnesota, backyard Monday morning.

 

HOW DO YOU define spring?

By the calendar? By tulips, daffodils, crocuses popping color into the landscape? By warmth?

 

A sure sign of spring in Minnesota: More motorcyclists on the roads, as reflected in this photo taken late Saturday afternoon.

 

Whatever your measurement of spring, it’s likely as personal as you are and reflects wherever you live.

I’ve lived all of my life in Minnesota, a state associated with cold and snow. Long winters. And this winter, especially, has been long with way above average snowfall in February. Finally, in recent weeks, temps warmed and snow melted with amazing speed. It’s beginning to feel and look more spring-like. Temps today are predicted to reach into the 60s.

 

Emerging in a south-facing flowerbed in my backyard Monday morning. Every year my tulips start to grow and then snow falls in April and, well, that’s not good. I expect no different this year.

 

First signs of spring for me may seem atypical. I look beyond flower bulb leaves emerging from the cover of leaf mulch.

 

A cloud of dust envelopes the street sweeper cleaning Willow Street Monday morning.

 

I see spring in the street sweeper roaring past my house, sucking up sand, dirt and other winter debris from roadways.

 

 

I see spring in our Christmas tree now uncovered, dried and dead, from a snowbank.

 

Aiming my camera lens directly upward to the sky from my backyard Monday morning.

 

I see spring in puffs of clouds against a sky morphed from the grey of winter to a sharp blue.

 

Flooded fields photographed Saturday morning in southern Minnesota.

 

I see spring in intense blue pools of water forming lakes in farm fields as the snow melts.

 

Typically, I would already have hung out laundry in 2019. But this year a snow-covered patio and too much snowfall and cold temps delayed that. Randy shoveled snow from the patio several days ago so I could hang out laundry Monday morning. That’s our Weber grill on the other side of the snowbank next to the clothesline.

 

I see spring in the laundry I now hang on the line, for the first time Monday morning. After the husband shoveled snow from the patio.

 

One of my favorite prints, picked up at a garage sale a number of years back.

 

I see spring, too, in the artwork I pull from my personal collection. Pastoral scenes that offer no hint of winter.

 

I appreciate that I can now find asparagus, one of my favorite vegetables, in local grocery stores.

 

I see spring in the bundle of asparagus I picked up at the grocery store. I can’t wait until locally-grown asparagus is available.

These things, for me, signal spring. How about you? Tell me what hearkens spring’s arrival for you.

© Copyright 2019 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Spring emerges at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault April 5, 2017

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WITH THE CALENDAR flipped to April, the greening of the grey is subtly emerging in Minnesota as the season shifts from winter to spring.

 

 

The Turtle Pond at River Bend Nature Center.

 

Nesting pond along the entry to River Bend Nature Center.

 

Wisps of buds. Greening in the pond and woods. Skies and water so incredibly blue you wonder if your winter weary eyes are fooling you.

 

A frog camouflaged in the Turtle Pond.

 

 

The banks of the Straight River proved a popular spot Saturday afternoon. The woman in the purple is wearing a t-shirt with this message: “Leave me alone. I’m only speaking to my dog today.”

 

Frogs making more noise than raucous children on a playground. Geese nesting. River flowing.

 

Saturday’s weather proved perfect for motorized and non-motorized bking.

 

I almost cried when I met this trio of walkers as I thought of my mom and wished I could guide her on a walk through the woods.

 

Two teens parked their bikes trailside to explore the waterfall.

 

Give us Minnesotans a nice day of warmth and sunshine, like that on Saturday, and we, too, emerge from our homes to celebrate this changing of the seasons.

 

My husband, oldest daughter and granddaughter walking through River Bend Sunday afternoon.

 

My husband and I were among the throngs of visitors hiking at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault during Saturday’s respite warmth. We returned Sunday with our eldest daughter and her daughter. By then conditions had changed from sunny to cloudy with a brisk wind and much lower temps. The weather required stocking caps and winter coats (for the oldsters) unlike the sweatshirts of the previous day. Few others were out and about.

 

If not for Randy’s sharp eye, we may have stepped on this toad (or is it a frog?) sitting on a trail Saturday afternoon.

 

Another immobile amphibian sitting in the parking lot Sunday afternoon.

 

Even the frogs, a deafening chorus on Saturday, were quiet in Sunday’s cold. The toads hunched immobile.

 

Blue skies reflected Saturday afternoon in the nesting pond for geese.

 

As a Minnesotan, I understand how weather can change, just like that. So I accept each warm and sunny day as a gift.

 

Rustic signs mark trails at River Bend Nature Center.

 

TELL ME: Are there signs of spring where you live? Please share.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sure signs of spring in Owatonna April 12, 2016

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AFTER A LONG MINNESOTA WINTER, and they all seem long to me, we look for sure signs of spring. A robin. Snowbirds returning from Arizona, Texas and Florida. Road construction beginning.

The recently unveiled motorhome in Owatonna.

The recently unveiled motorhome in Owatonna.

And in Owatonna, about a dozen miles to the south of my Faribault home, it’s the unveiling of a motorhome parked in a front yard along East Main Street, one of the town’s main drags. “This, like the return of the robins, is a sure sign of spring,” a friend and Owatonna resident shared in a recent email.

Motorhome in Owatonna in January

This is a photograph of the same motorhome taken in January.

I posted a photo of that camper in early February, when it was shrouded in a “blanket” and snow blanketed the yard.

Campers filled the spacious Four Seasons Centre and spilled into a parking lot.

Campers filled the spacious Four Seasons Centre and spilled into a parking lot.

On Saturday I was in Owatonna again, this time to tour exhibits at the Steele County History Center (posts forthcoming on that). And while we were there, my husband and I checked out the Noble RV Camper Show next door at the Steele County Four Seasons Centre. Like the uncovered camper on Main Street, the camper show signals spring, even if temps are still in the 30s and windchills in the teens.

We’re not campers. But we wanted to tour these homes on wheels.

If he could have, Randy would have kicked back with a beer, watched TV and fallen asleep inside this comfy motorhome.

If he could have, Randy would have kicked back with a beer, watched TV and fallen asleep inside this comfy motorhome.

These are some pretty fancy schmancy rigs with fireplaces, steel appliances and kitchens way nicer than the one in my woodframe house. If this is camping, I could learn to like camping. My few camping experiences have involved leaky tents, deflating air mattresses, partying neighbors and, once, even a flood. So when people ask if I camp, I respond with an emphatic no.

If you were in the market for a camper, this was the place to be. So many to tour...

If you were in the market for a camper, this was the place to be this past weekend. So many to tour…

I lost count of how many motorhomes we toured on Saturday. But after awhile, they all began too look alike. And I was tired of carefully stepping up and down trios of stairs, my hand gripping a side hold lest I plummet onto the cement.

For the sportsman, there was even a ice fishing house/camper. Remove the lids and drop your line into the water on a frozen lake.

For the sportsman, there was even a ice fishing house/camper. Remove the lids and drop your line into the water on a frozen lake.

For one thing I was especially grateful. Not a single salesman approached us. So we didn’t have to feign interest in something that didn’t interest us beyond abating our curiosity.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling