Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Musings during a multi-day southern Minnesota blizzard March 15, 2026

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My husband, Randy, blows snow from our driveway Sunday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

WHILE I SAT IN THE RECLINER hand-stitching loosened seams in a cuff of Randy’s flannel shirt and listening to “Face the Nation,” my husband was outdoors firing up the snowblower.

We are in the middle of a major winter storm in much of Minnesota. Snow began falling here Saturday evening and continues with some nine-plus inches of accumulation thus far in Faribault. Winds are whipping the new-fallen snow into a blizzard with no travel advised, roads closed, and more cancellations than I could possibly list. That includes cancellation of church services.

Little Prairie United Methodist Church, rural Dundas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Across town, while I was stitching, then dicing celery and onions for the Chicken Wild Rice Hotdish I’ll make for supper, my friend Marian was tucked inside her home watching Little Prairie United Methodist Church services online. Broadcast not from the rural Dundas church, but from Pastor Penny Bonsell’s living room in nearby Northfield.

“She (the pastor) was in her slippers with a cup of coffee and her puppy needing to be removed from front and center!” Marian shared with me. “A close neighbor trudged through the snow to play the piano and she and her husband have beautiful voices. The puppy didn’t sing!”

Marian invited me to watch the service. I did. After I finished the breakfast dishes, ate the brunch Randy made, washed dishes again, and video chatted with my second daughter and one-year-old grandson four hours away in southeastern Wisconsin. Only light snow is falling in Madison.

Randy had just finished clearing the driveway and sidewalk when the snowplow came by, filling in the ends of the drive and walk with a deep ridge of snow. Back to blowing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Snow is still piling up here, falling thick and heavy. But the Rev. Bonsell gave thanks for the new white snow, which “reminds us to be clean and make a new start in life.” I appreciated her positive perspective, which can be difficult to consider when you’re out shoveling and blowing away snow in fierce winds as Randy did for 1½ hours this morning.

But as I watched the Little Prairie UMC Church service, I felt such peace. Pastor Bonsell has a calming voice, graceful and poetic. As she led the service from her cozy living room, fire blazing in the fireplace, slippers on her feet, sipping coffee, rocking in a rocking chair, I felt the comfort of words offered in song, prayer and in her message, “Restores My Soul” (based on Psalm 23). Said the pastor, “You are never, ever alone.” She also talked about light and darkness, referencing Ephesians 5:8-14 and choosing to live in the light, to choose good.

I took this photo early Sunday morning as the wind-driven snow began to pile up against the garage door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

I didn’t intend to watch a church service when I was shaping the idea of this blog post around our winter storm. I attended worship at my church last evening given this morning’s service was canceled. But then my friend Marian’s words about the puppy and the pastor in slippers drew me to the Little Prairie UMC YouTube video.

Once online, I immediately felt at home in the pastor’s living room. I noticed a pillow with the directive to “Be Kind” positioned on a child-sized rocking chair. The fire blazed. The puppy roamed. Pianist Peter Webb sat poised at the piano.

Just like the Rev. Bonsell, I advised Randy to be careful while clearing the heavy snow. Here he blows open the sidewalk with dried hydrangea in the foreground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

And the Rev. Bonsell, in her welcome on this “snowstormy day” (her words), advised everyone to be careful when shoveling the heavy snow. Then, before beginning the worship service, she asked for more people to make pies and salads for a March 27 Fish Dinner. She announced the Holy Week schedule and a 90th birthday party open house for twins Doris and Doug, showed a video of a youth group bowling outing, and more.

And during a sharing of the peace, typically hand-shaking, the pastor and her husband, Tom, kissed. That sealed it. The snow may be falling at a rapid rate as I write. The wind may be creating chaos in the world outside. But in a small southern Minnesota living room, a pastor brought peace and love in the middle of a blizzard that won’t end until 7 a.m. Monday.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

And the winners of the Name a Snowplow contest in Faribault are… March 6, 2026

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These two new Faribault city snowplow trucks now bear names following a Name a Snowplow contest. (Photo credit: City of Faribault)

WHEN IT COMES to plowing snow, getting the white stuff off city streets as quickly as possible is likely top of mind for most property owners. We’re thankful when the plow clears our street, but even more thankful if that’s done before we’ve opened our driveways. There’s nothing quite as maddening as the snowplow plugging up the end of your driveway with a ridge of snow right after you’ve put away the shovel or snowblower. Timing is everything.

A tech inspired name for the snowplow also references the salt used on snowy and icy city streets. (Photo credit: City of Faribault)

But now the City of Faribault has put a little fun into snow removal by sponsoring a Name a Snowplow contest, much like the one held annually by the Minnesota Department of Transportation. The winners of Faribault’s inaugural contest to name two new snowplows are…drum roll, please: Ctrl Salt Delete with 84 votes (28 percent) and Darth Blader with 67 votes (22 percent). Both names were past winners in MnDOT contests.

Coming in third was Alexander Fariblow with 48 votes out of the 300-plus cast. Even though only two names were supposed to win, city officials discussed and decided to go with a third winner for a large front-end blower used to clear the downtown area. Good call, I say, as the name honors town founder Alexander Faribault whose 1853 wood-frame house stands downtown.

So how did the city get from contest idea to tagging two plows and a blower with names? First they asked for suggestions from the community with around 50 ideas submitted. Those were narrowed to six. The other three were Frost Responder, Farisnow and The Big Snowplowski. Then voting opened online.

But the city offered one more ballot option which I really like because it got kids involved. At a Halloween event at a local car dealership, the city placed decals of the top six names on the front of a snowplow. Kids and/or parents could then vote by putting their initials by their preferred name. About 60 votes were cast in that unique poll.

All in all, I’d say this first Name a Snowplow contest in Faribault was a success if you’re measuring community engagement and novel winter fun.

Second top vote-getter, Darth Blader. (Photo credit: City of Faribault)

Additionally, maybe seeing Ctrl Salt Delete or Darth Blader roaring down a snowy street will help us to be a bit more understanding if our driveway is plowed shut just after we’ve opened it. Maybe. I mean, raging at Darth Blader seems risky.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a Minnesota blizzard alters plans December 28, 2025

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Pedestrians cross Central Avenue in downtown Faribault during a blizzard Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

IT’S LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON and we should be on the interstate right now driving from Faribault to Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. But instead, wicked winter weather changed everything. We are hunkered down at home, in the midst of a good old-fashioned Minnesota blizzard predicted to drop as much as 10 inches of snow on our area.

Another view of Central Avenue looking north. You can barely see the stoplight a block away. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Fifteen minutes to the south, Interstate 35 southbound is closed from Owatonna into Iowa. Travel is not advised in many areas, including north of Faribault, the direction we would be going. There are crashes, spin-outs, jack-knifed semis. Snowplows have been pulled in some counties due to deteriorating conditions with wind whipping snow, creating white-out conditions.

And at the airport, where we should be headed to drop off our son for his 7 pm flight back to Boston, cancellations and delays are stacking up. Saturday afternoon he rebooked to an early Tuesday morning flight per our suggestion. We did not want to be driving on Interstate 35 to the airport in a blizzard.

The scene as we left Gather on Central around 3:15 pm Sunday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

But Randy and I did head downtown Faribault, a short drive from our house, to celebrate a friend’s 80th birthday earlier this afternoon. In the 90 minutes we were there, weather conditions worsened substantially. The wind picked up, swirling snow along Central Avenue. If things look this bad in town, I can only imagine how conditions are in the open countryside.

Willow Street in Faribault Sunday afternoon a block from our home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Yup, I’m thankful to be home and not attempting a trip to the airport. The son can work remotely on Monday. We’re all safe, sheltered inside waiting out this blizzard.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Neither wicked winds nor storm of day shall stop a trip to the airport December 19, 2025

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Winds and blowing snow produce near white-out conditions during a past winter storm in southern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

“I DIDN’T THINK it would be that bad,” Randy said. Neither did I.

But our drive to and from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport Thursday afternoon to get our son, arriving from Boston, proved difficult and stressful. Let me set the scene.

As we headed out of Faribault toward Interstate 35 shortly after lunch, freezing pellets pinged our windshield and the wind blew fierce, limiting visibility. And we weren’t even out of town.

A WICKED WIND

Once on the interstate, though, the precipitation soon stopped. But the wind gusted with such ferocity that I could feel it tugging at the van and observed semi truck drivers struggling to keep their rigs in their lanes.

Yet, the wicked 40 mph winds—or whatever ridiculous speed they reached—dried the pavement of the rain that fell earlier in the morning. That rain later transitioned to intermittent snow as temps continued to drop throughout the day. The morning temp started at nearly 40 degrees.

We detoured from our airport route to stop at our nephew’s house in Apple Valley to pick up a Christmas gift and stained glass supplies. Within that 45-minute visit, the weather worsened. But, surprisingly, our son’s flight arrived 15 minutes early. Here I’d been concerned about a possible late arrival due to weather conditions.

As we got onto Cedar Avenue aiming for the airport, traffic volume increased. We blended into the traffic flow, proceeding with caution like almost everyone else. Except the usual few motorists who do not drive for conditions. Snowplows were out sanding and salting and spreading whatever to de-ice road surfaces.

WAITING & MORE WAITING

I thought we would be late and Caleb would be waiting for us inside the terminal. But no. He was waiting for his luggage. We waited in the cellphone lot for a good half hour as he waited for his bags. Yes, a lot of waiting.

Eventually we were back in bumper-to-bumper traffic as vehicles crept toward passenger pick-up. This always feels like a game of chicken to me, trying to wedge into the gridlock so your loved one can see you and get safely to your vehicle. Eventually we reached door four, spotted Caleb, hefted his mammoth suitcase into the back of the van, placed the backpack behind the driver’s seat, grabbed a quick hug and started home.

AT LEAST WE’RE MOVING

Traffic congestion continued, although we were moving. And moving is always better than not. I just wanted to get home before the weather got worse, before rush hour traffic peaked and because, well, I really had to pee. It’s not the first time I’ve wished for a porta potty in the cellphone lot.

To move this story along, once we got farther out of the metro, past Elko New Market, traffic lessened. The wind still blew fierce and snow fell. We were in wide open country, rural Minnesota. The wind swept the snow away like a broom, leaving traffic lanes clean.

SNOW GATES

All was going fine until we got about 10 miles from Faribault. Visibility wasn’t reduced to white-out conditions, but wind-driven snow diminished visibility considerably in some spots. “I bet they closed the snow gates in Owatonna,” I said in the midst of all this. Snow gates, if you’re unfamiliar with the term, are actual gates pulled across the top of entrance ramps to keep motorists off the interstate during a winter storm.

I haven’t read any media reports that Interstate 35 snow gates were closed yesterday. But I did read of a multi-vehicle crash that happened on I-35 between Owatonna and Ellendale at 3:15 pm in blizzard-like conditions. That closed the southbound lane for three hours. Owatonna is a 15-minute drive south of Faribault.

We arrived home at 3:30 pm, safe and sound with an hour to spare before dark. Soon thereafter, our eldest daughter texted that no travel was advised in Rice County. We’d gotten home just in time as our county was now among many Minnesota counties in a blizzard warning. We cozied in for the night while the wind howled, me thankful that we made it to the airport and back without incident.

This morning we awoke to sub-zero temps. And a fresh layer of snow to shovel.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Raging blizzards March 5, 2025

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Blowing snow reduces visibility during a prior winter storm in Rice County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

AS I WRITE this Tuesday afternoon, a sense of foreboding looms. Grey, with a tinge of otherworldly light, defines the sky. Branches of bare trees lean. Unbalanced. Darkness encroaches, presses upon the earth with an anticipatory heaviness. By the time you read this, my area of southern Minnesota will be under siege with a full-blown blizzard. Unless the weather forecasters are wrong.

But this time the forecast of up to eight inches of snow with wind gusts topping 55 mph seems likely. I’ve already asked Randy to stay home from work because driving 24 miles in white-out conditions would not be smart. Or safe. The National Weather Service warns of treacherous travel, potentially life-threatening conditions. Power lines and trees laden with heavy wet snow could snap.

The weather rather matches my mood. I feel a sense of foreboding on so many levels. I struggle sometimes to see the light for the grey skies, for the oppressiveness that prevails. I wonder what will happen next. What storm is brewing?

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

During a weather event, I can prepare. Take precautions. Buy bread and milk (note I didn’t write, “buy eggs”). Stay home. Shelter in place. Face whatever comes. I’ve lived through blizzards, wind storms and even a tornado. I am a hardy American who happens to live in Minnesota, next to our wonderful Canadian neighbors.

And so that is the approach I must take. Stand strong against the negative forces. Speak up. Continue to show compassion, care, kindness, love. Hold hope. Understand that blizzards don’t last forever, although this one seems never-ending.

A city of Faribault snowplow hits the road during a past winter storm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Every single snowplow matters in removing burdensome snow from roadways. Imagine what a fleet of snowplows can do against the deepest snow drifted by raging winds. I’ve seen the results. Roads are cleared. The snow melts. The sun shines. Winter ends. The trees bud green. That is my visual hope during these grey days tinged with an otherworldly light.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

And the 2024-2025 Minnesota snowplow name winners are… February 13, 2025

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(Graphic from the Minnesota Department of Transportation)

IN MINNESOTA, we’re not off to see The Wizard, but the blizzard. Or maybe we wish we were heading for the Emerald City. But the people have voted, and We’re Off to See the Blizzard topped the eight names selected for the Minnesota Department of Transportation’s annual Name a Snowplow Contest.

Polls closed last Friday with 23,400 people voting for up to eight names on a list of 50. That was narrowed from some 7,300 submissions.

A snowplow in my native southwestern Minnesota will now bear the name spun off from a line in “The Wizard of Oz” starring native Minnesotan Frances Gumm, aka Judy Garland. Her hometown of Grand Rapids (Minnesota, not Michigan) is located in MnDOT’s District 1 on the northeastern side of our state. A plow in that region will be tagged SKOL Plow, a tribute to the Scandinavian cheer chant for the Minnesota Vikings. That name came in at number seven in the polls.

Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, popular superhero characters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Here in southeastern Minnesota, Plowbunga! will now mark one of MnDOT’s big orange snowplow trucks. Does that reference Cowabunga! of “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” fame? I think so. My girls loved those cartoon superheroes, turtles in a half shell. Plowabunga! was the third top vote-getter.

Coming in second was Snowtorious B.I.G., which totally baffled me. So I googled and found connections to snow, drugs and sweaters.

Anthony Sledwards also had me stumped. Turns out Anthony Edwards is a star basketball player for the Minnesota Timberwolves. That explains it. I don’t watch sports. Travel in the Twin Cities metro and you will soon see Anthony Sledwards plowing snow.

The original version of “How to Talk Minnesotan,” published in the 1980s, is a primer to Minnesota language. (Book cover sourced online)

The fifth and sixth place winners, You’re Welcome and Don’tcha Snow, honor Minnesota Speak, phrases (or versions of) spoken by Minnesotans. Don’tcha know?

Rounding out the top ten is I Came, I Thaw, I Conquered, which will go on a plow in District 7, South Central Minnesota.

So there you go. How did I do with my picks? Three of my eight choices—We’re Off to See the Blizzard, SKOL Plow and Catch My Drift (#9 and which I really really like)—finished in the top ten.

I’m not sayin’ take me to Jackpot Junction, Mystic Lake, Treasure Island or any other casino in Minnesota because I’m not that good at picking winners. But I am sayn’ this annual contest is a whole lot of fun and certainly breaks up a long Minnesota winter.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Name that Minnesota snowplow January 29, 2025

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Blowing snow reduces visibility along Rice County Road 25/197th Street East near Faribault on January 18, 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)

WITH THE LONG WINTERS we have here in Minnesota, we find creative ways to get through this lengthy, lingering season. That includes naming our state-owned snowplows.

It’s that time of year again when voting opens in the Minnesota Department of Transportation’s Name That Snowplow Contest. Yup, we started naming our snowplows in 2020. Not all of them, of course, because MnDOT has a large fleet of big orange snowplows. Rather, eight names are selected for a snowplow in each of MnDOT’s eight districts.

The contest, and, yes, this is a contest, garnered more than 7,300 submissions for the 2024-2025 season. Guidelines called for witty, unique and Minnesota or winter-themed names. Rules banned profanity, political connections (thank you, MnDOT) and such. In other words, Minnesotans needed to exercise Minnesota Nice in suggesting snowplow names.

In a nod to Taylor Swift, a snowplow in MnDOT’s District 2 was named Taylor Drift in the 2024 contest. (Photo credit: Minnesota Department of Transportation)

MnDOT staff reviewed the submitted names and narrowed the choices to 50. How would you like that job? Now the public has until noon on Friday, February 7, to vote for up to eight names. Just like in any election, you can vote only once. But not at the ballot box. Vote online.

Scrolling through the list of names, I picked my favorites. Now, if my choices influence your picks, I offer no apologies. You can vote your conscience.

A City of Faribault truck plows snow in the winter of 2023. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

I’m voting for these names, listed in alphabetical order and followed by my reasons for selecting them:

Bob Chillin’—A tribute to native son, singer, songwriter and poet Bob Dylan, who is not a complete unknown.

Catch My Drift—Just because it’s catchy and this is what snowplows do, especially on my native prairie.

Little Plow on the Prairie—A nod to author Laura Ingalls Wilder and the TV series, Little House on the Prairie, set in Walnut Grove, Minnesota (the show, not the book).

Make Snowbegone—A reference to writer Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon and also the way many Minnesotans feel in the deep of a snowy winter.

MinneSNOWta N’ice—Obviously referring to Minnesota weather and the “Minnesota Nice” moniker tagged to Minnesotans.

SKOL Plow—Even if the Minnesota Vikings did not get to the Super Bowl (again), we remain (mostly) loyal to our team and are fond of our Scandinavian cheer chant, SKOL!

Snow Place Like Home—A clever twist on the phrase, “There’s no place like home” from The Wizard of Oz. Judy Garland, Dorothy in the film, was born Frances Ethel Gumm in Grand Rapids, Minnesota.

We’re Off To See the Blizzard—And, yes, that would be a spin off “We’re off to see the wizard (of Oz).” Snowplows are, indeed, sometimes off to see the blizzard.

There you go. Exercise your right to vote in a nonpartisan election. Just for fun. To vote, click here.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lion or lamb March 25, 2024

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Photos by wildlife photographer Dave Angell, exhibited previously at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2023)

MARCH ROARED INTO MINNESOTA like a lion this past weekend. Louder in some parts of our state, like in Minneapolis northward. And quieter in other parts, like here in Faribault.

Snow falls under grey skies Sunday afternoon in my backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

We got only a few inches of snow in my community. I think. It’s difficult to measure in a spring storm that mixes heavy snow, light snow, wet snow, sleet and rain. Yes, it’s been quite a mix of precip. But I can assuredly tell you that the once barren landscape is layered in fresh snow under grey, drippy skies.

Snow falls, layering patio lights, fence and evergreens Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport recorded 8.2 inches of snow, the biggest snowfall of the season. They can have it, although I’m sure Minnesotans attempting to fly out for warm spring break destinations did not appreciate all the flight delays and cancellations on Sunday.

Snow creates an interesting black-and-white grid on my patio bricks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

Other than attending church services early Sunday morning and stepping onto the back stoop to take a few photos, I stayed inside all day. It was an ideal “sprinter” day (as my friend Gretchen aptly terms this season) to settle in with a good book. I’m reading The Violin Conspiracy, a novel by Brendan Slocumb centering on a gifted Black violinist. It’s a riveting, emotional read. Sometimes I wanted to roar like a lion at the unfairness, the prejudice, the challenges that thread through this book. I’m half-way through the novel.

A few more lions, but mostly lambs, have been added to this March calendar at Buckham Memorial Library since I photographed it on March 16. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

Lion. Lamb. That applies to life, to books, to the month of March.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2016 from Shepherd’s Way Farm, rural Nerstrand)

If I have a choice, I’ll choose a gentle lamb. I dislike conflict. I dislike sprinter storms that create travel woes, that require snow removal. But often we have no choice. Weather and life roar in like a lion and we face the challenges. Sometimes with fear. Sometimes with bravery. However we react, we are the stronger for having faced the lion. More empathetic. More compassionate. Less afraid. And that is the lesson of March.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Winter’s Song,” memories, reflections & writing from Minnesota March 21, 2024

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This abandoned farmhouse once stood along Minnesota State Highway 19 east of my hometown of Vesta on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. It’s no longer there. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)

A TIME EXISTED when I loved winter. The snow more than the cold. During my growing up years on a southwestern Minnesota farm, I could not wait for the first snowfall, which then piled snow upon snow upon snow for months.

This huge, hard-as-rock towering snowdrift blocked my childhood farm driveway in March 1965. (Photo credit: Elvern Kletscher)

Fierce prairie winds swept snow around outbuildings, sculpting rock-hard drifts, an ideal landscape for Canadian Mounties. Snow pushed into piles by the loader of Dad’s John Deere tractor became mountains, rugged terrain to conquer. And pristine snow presented the perfect canvas for a game of Fox and Goose.

Our southwestern Minnesota farmyard is buried in snowdrifts in this March 1965 image. (Photo credit: Elvern Kletscher)

I remember, too, the crisp winter evenings of walking from barn to house after finishing chores. Packed snow crunched beneath my buckle overshoes. Frigid air bit at my nose, my mouth streaming billows of vapor. Overhead a billion stars pricked light into the immense black sky. Ahead of me, windows glowed in our tiny wood-frame farmhouse.

Those are the good memories I choose to remember. Not the near-frozen fingers. Not the pot on the porch because we had no bathroom. Not the house foundation wrapped in brown paper to seal out the cold. Not the central oil-burning stove that never kept the house warm enough.

Today I have it so much better. A warm house with a bathroom. No cows or calves to feed or straw bales to shake or manure to scoop. No dealing with cracked, chapped, bleeding hands. I have every reason today to embrace winter minus many of the hardships of yesteryear. But I find I don’t.

I’m working, though, on shifting my attitude back to that of appreciating a season which is often harsh here in Minnesota, although not in this unseasonably mild and nearly snow-less winter of 2023-2024. Last winter, now that was a record snowfall winter which tested many a life-long Minnesotan. Except perhaps my friend Jackie of Rochester, who loves winter.

The vintage winter photo gracing the cover of Mischke’s book is from the archives of the Minnesota Historical Society. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo)

Writer, musician, podcaster and former radio talk show host TD Mischke also loves winter (most of the time) as evidenced in his book Winter’s Song—A Hymn to the North, published in 2023 by Skywater Publishing Cooperative. I happened upon his collection of winter writing at my brother-in-law and sister-in-law’s house north of the metro. Jon is about as avid an outdoorsman as they come. Hunting. Fishing. And in the dead of winter, spearfishing on the frozen lake. This seemed a book written just for him.

Recognizing the Mischke name, I immediately inquired whether the writer, TD Mischke, was any relation to Sy Mischke, friend of my late father-in-law. Sy, a “character” by my definition, was TD’s uncle. TD Mischke certainly writes about characters in Winter’s Song.

Clearing snow is a sometimes endless task during a Minnesota winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

His collection of short stories, essays and three poems honors Midwest winters. Not in a fully nostalgic way, but with a mix of reality. Winters are, admittedly, brutal. But also brimming blessings. The word “hymn” in the book title fits.

A lovely winter scene photographed in 2019 north of Faribault. It portrays the beauty of winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

As I read through the short chapters, I found myself liking winter more and more. And that’s thanks to Mischke’s storytelling skills, his attention to detail, his introspective writing, his humor, his honest portrayal of winter in Minnesota. Not everyone is meant to live here. That Mischke acknowledges. But he also acknowledges the toughness, stamina, strength and endurance of those who call the North home. I agree that it takes a bit of fortitude to manage some six months of winter. I felt in that moment a sense of pride as a life-long Minnesotan.

Spring erupts in budding trees at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2019)

That brings me to the second to last chapter of Winter’s Song—“Lessons of March.” It seemed only fitting that I was reading this chapter near the end of March on a day of predicted snow. I’ve never liked March much. But Mischke reminded me that this often grey month, which can throw in surprise snowstorms, should be appreciated for the simple reason that it makes us appreciate April even more. The arrival of spring. He’s right. Winter is often about perspective. After finishing Winter’s Song, I feel my thoughts shifting toward a renewed appreciation for this longest of seasons here in Minnesota.

FYI: Winter’s Song—A Hymn to the North is a finalist for the 2024 Emilie Buchwald Award for Minnesota Nonfiction. Minnesota Book Award winners will be announced May 7. To listen to TD Mischke’s podcast, The Mischke Roadshow, click here.

 

February snow in a mostly snowless Minnesota winter February 16, 2024

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The unshoveled sidewalk in front of my house stretches before me mid-morning Thursday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

VALENTINE’S DAY BROUGHT our first measurable snowfall since Halloween in this unusual snow-drought winter here in Minnesota. I haven’t missed snow, especially after last winter’s exceptional record snowfall that caused even the hardiest of Minnesotans to wonder if the snow would ever end.

A winter with minimal snow makes life all-around easier. I doubt anyone living in our state would deny that. It’s easier to navigate without snow-packed roads and sidewalks. Randy’s commute to work on icy roads Thursday morning took 50 minutes rather than the typical 32. And no snow also means less work as in no snow to blow, blade or shovel.

I used my new Snow Trax for the first time Thursday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2024)

Thursday morning I had about three inches of snow to clear, not much really by Minnesota standards. I bundled up, starting by pulling long johns on under jeans. Then I layered a fleece-lined sweatshirt over a tee and flannel shirt topped by a lightweight jacket. I clamped Snow Trax onto snow boots. A stocking cap and mittens completed the ensemble.

I headed out the back door into the garage to grab the scoop shovel and the wide-bladed plastic snow shovel. I knew it would take both to effectively clear snow.

Snow layers my neighbor’s evergreens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

It was a beautiful morning with a white landscape set against a backdrop bold blue sky. Snow outlined branches, layered evergreen boughs and seedheads. And the sun glittered diamonds across the snow. Anytime the sun shines in winter, I feel better. There’s something about sunshine that offsets even the coldest temperatures, the deepest snow, causing spirits to soar.

My distorted shadow on the snow-covered lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

As I pushed and scooped the snow from the sidewalk and driveway, I felt my stomach, leg and back muscles tightening. I worked at a steady pace, not pushing myself. Soon I found myself overheated. I unzipped my jacket, then the sweatshirt. I felt like I was sweating, even with a temp below 20 degrees. Shoveling snow, even if only a few inches, is a work out.

Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click. Melding with the scrape of the shovel and the click of studs on my Snow Trax was the splash of tires on the wet roadway. In February, the sun is strong enough to melt remaining ice and snow from hard surfaces cleared of initial snow. I wanted to get the snow off the sidewalk and driveway so the sun could melt the thin layer of ice and snow I couldn’t completely shovel away.

Remnants of a floral bouquet I received three weeks ago lie atop the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

I labored an hour shoveling snow, finishing on the south-facing patio. Randy grills year-round, so our patio always needs to be free of snow. As I pushed snow, I remembered the bouquet of mostly dead flowers I’d tossed out two days earlier. I pulled them from under the snow, laid them atop a patio table. The purples, pinks and greens contrasted against the virgin white snow, visually pleasing me.

On this Thursday, this day after Valentine’s Day, I didn’t mind the snow all that much. It felt, in a way, like the first snowfall of the season. Magical. Beautiful. And definitively more like Minnesota ought to appear in mid-February.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling