Beautiful flowering trees outside the Rice County courthouse, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I’VE NEVER TRAVELED to Washington, DC, thus never seen the masses of cherry blossoms. I’m quite certain I would love them. Flowering trees began blooming here about two weeks ago and I can’t get enough of their beauty.
A young tree outside the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault blooms in late April. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Whether pink or white, the petals add an artistic and poetic touch to the landscape. It’s as if an artist meticulously brushed petals upon a tree. It’s as if a poet wrote lovely words upon apple and ornamental trees, petal by petal.
Against the backdrop of the Guild House at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, a flowering tree buds and blooms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
In poetry, every word counts. In art, every brush stroke matters. On a flowering tree, both create a canopy of loveliness.
Masses of flowers on a tree at the intersection of Third Avenue NW and Fifth Street NW, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo late April 2026)
I don’t paint. But I create with my camera and with words. I write poetry—poetry which has published on the pages of anthologies and literary journals, inspired artists and a musician, graced signs in public places.
At the intersection of First Avenue NW and Sixth Street NW in Faribault, a flowering tree graces a front yard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 28, 2026)
And so I see poetry where others may not. A flowering tree is not simply a tree with flowers. It is a work of literary and visual art. It is a love letter. It is a painting. It is romance. It is a thousand stories. It is more than a tree blushing beauty into the landscape on a spring day.
Sunshine dapples a tree along Third Avenue NW, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo late April 2026)
In residential neighborhoods, in parks and in other spaces, flowering trees bloom poetic verse. Above. And in a carpet of petals upon the ground. I’m inspired to write: Apple blossoms fall/like kisses from their lips/teasing, tempting, tasting/not of promised, forbidden fruit/but of young love blooming.
The Guild House tree in bud and now bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
And so spring seems a time of young love. Of beginnings. Of feeling the heart beat faster.
Trees flower on the back side of Faribault’s Central Park bandshell which features murals honoring the life of Bishop Henry Whipple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Yet spring also celebrates the seasoned love of many years, even decades, together. Love that has seen countless springs of flowering trees blushing beauty into the landscape. For my husband, Randy, and me, 44 years of married life marked on May 15.
Looking up at flowering treetops outside an office building along Third Avenue NW in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
We walk beneath those trees, petals underfoot representing the poetry of days past and those above of poetry yet unwritten.
Lilacs bloom in North Alexander Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
EARLY MAY IN MINNESOTA always appears fresh, vibrant, new.
Biking toward the pedestrian bridge across the Straight River in Teepee Tonka Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
It’s as if our senses have reawakened from hibernation. The landscape looks especially lush. The sun feels warmer. Birdsong sounds louder. And the desire to get outdoors and take it all in runs strong.
A windmill spins at The Crabby Wren barn sale in Cannon City during a vintage shop hop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Mother’s Day weekend brought locals out in droves in the Faribault area, including me. Bikers, hikers, dog walkers, anglers, picnickers, shoppers at a vintage shop hop…
A frog caught along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The river drew many. A father and his young son fished at Two Rivers Park, using chicken skin coated in red Kool-Aid as bait. A young boy snagged a frog along the Cannon River in North Alexander Park where he fished with a friend. Anglers lined the river banks by the two dams near the Faribault Mill.
Six ducklings and their mother swim in the shallow water of the Straight River at Teepee Tonka Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
And some, like me, watched six fluffy ducklings swim against the current and traverse the rocky bed of the Straight River in Teepee Tonka Park as they tried to keep up with their mother. The word “cute” fit.
The Straight River and railroad bridge as photographed on a pedestrian bridge linking Teepee Tonka Park to River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Everywhere Randy and I hiked on this splendid—and, yes, that word fits—Sunday, the essence of spring enveloped us. Wildflowers bloomed. Greenery enveloped us. The water of the Straight River flowed clear below us. Clouds puffed the blue sky.
Maple leaf seed pods against the blue May sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The perfume of lilacs scented the air. Maple leaf seed pods dangled from branches. Maple leaves shadowed a tree trunk.
Teens in the tunnel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
One of several cans of spray paint lying inside the tunnel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Tunnel graffiti. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
And in the shadows of a 442-foot long tunnel leading into River Bend Nature Center, several teens clustered, music blaring. We didn’t walk far enough to see what they were doing, but rather scanned the graffiti covering the walls of this 1937 Works Progress Administration project, built as a root cellar for the former Minnesota School and Colony (state hospital). I’m not informed enough to interpret the art, much of which includes obscene language and unidentifiable symbols. Yet, I found a patch of art that seemed devoid of anything offensive.
Randy climbs partially up a steep flight of stairs in the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
We emerged from the coolness of the tunnel back into woods hugging a steep hill on one side of the trail, the river bottom on the other. A rail line rises high like a wall along a portion of the path. Only later, in another location, did I hear the blast of a train whistle.
Maple leaf shadows on a tree trunk along the Straight River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Even in the quiet of parks and trails, the background of city noise, the presence of people remains. Yet, it’s possible to shut out the distractions, to immerse one’s self in nature.
Nearly camouflaged in the rocky bed of the Straight River, a mama duck and her six babies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I deeply appreciate the trail system, many parks and nature center within the city limits of Faribault. For a while on Mother’s Day afternoon, I observed just how much they are used, valued. To see people out and about like the young boys angling for fish and frogs, the families grilling in the park, the bikers pedaling, the dog owners walking their canines and more, reaffirms the importance of the outdoors to all of us, for our physical and mental well-being. To embrace spring after the season of winter feels good, oh, so good.
Petals 2 Metal, a flower shop in Kasson, features a spring message, floral arrangements and salvaged treasures. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
RAIN DRIPS OFF the roof line, big fat drops plopping onto brown stalks of hydrangea emerging from dormancy into a world reawakening.
Tulips about to bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
April showers bring May flowers. Tulips bloom, replacing the crocuses and daffodils already finished flowering. Fiddleheads pop through the soil, reaching for the sun, unfurling into leafy ferns that bend in the wind. Peony plants push up. Bleeding hearts dangle from stems, strong, yet vulnerable.
This is spring in southern Minnesota, a time of transition, of new growth, new life. Lush. Vivid. Visually-pleasing after months of drab surroundings.
A flowering crabapple tree at the corner of Fifth St. NW and Fourth Avenue NW in a residential neighborhood near the River Community Church in Faribault.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Leaves, only weeks ago tight buds on branches, now color a canopy of green across the land. Spring Snow ornamental crabapple trees scent the air with perfume in a blizzard of blossoms clinging to branches.
Off the grill, a burger topped with peanut butter, blueberry jam, pepperjack cheese and bacon with a side of charred broccoli. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
There’s so much to take in. So much to experience with all of the senses. The intoxicating scent of apple blossoms, of earth and April rain. The birdsong of early morning. The green, oh, the greenery, everywhere. The furry softness of a fuzzy curled caterpillar found among decaying leaves. The taste of burgers from the grill.
A poem about rain by Aimee Hagerty Johnson outside the Northfield Ice Arena and part of Northfield’s Sidewalk Poetry Project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
And a poem imprinted in the sidewalk outside an ice arena. Poetry not about icy winter, but about welcoming rain.
April showers bring May flowers. Gardeners tend perennial flowerbeds, plan plantings, shop for annuals, buy flowering baskets. Planters are plumped with fillers, spillers and thrillers.
Low-growing spring flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
We Minnesotans thrill in welcoming spring, when rain replenishes a land awakening from yet another winter.
Budding branches on the maple tree in my backyard during a recent sunset of pink sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
HERE IN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA, the greening of the land indicates the beginning of spring’s full-on arrival.
April showers, more like recent deluges of rain, and warmer temperatures have reawakened the earth. Once dormant brown grass now colors lawns greens.
Buds begin to open on lilac bushes at North Alexander Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Buds tip tree branches and bushes, promising canopies of leaves and masses of flowers. I’m waiting for the lilacs to bloom in early May, their heady scent a gift to all of us upon winter’s departure.
A crocus blooms at the Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Garden on the Rice County Fairgrounds, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Crocuses, daffodils and other spring flowers burst through the soil, opening to the sun in a visual splash of color. A jubilant and celebratory scene that shouts happiness.
A Canadian goose swims in the Cannon River at North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Down by the river, geese and ducks share company, prepare for nesting and the arrival of little ones. I wait each spring for the goslings and ducklings. They fill my spirit with the promise of new beginnings. Hope in a world desperately in need of hope.
In the Cannon River, a Canadian goose spreads its wings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Along water’s edge, I simply stand and observe. Waves rippling, wings rising, water flowing under a gray April sky.
Branches on a riverside tree twist and turn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
The day feels unsettled in its unseasonable warmth and humidity as I follow a paved path in Faribault’s North Alexander Park. Past the Cannon River, through the trees, then back to the river, I walk with my husband.
Tagged and planted at North Alexander Park, the True North Kentucky Coffeetree. A flag in the park reads “Tree City USA.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
We pause to look at several newly-planted trees, including a True North Kentucky Coffeetree, developed, I later learn, through the University of Minnesota woody landscape breeding program. We both wondered about the viability of a coffee tree growing in this northern climate.
Measured and compared to a quarter, some of the larger hail that fell at our home on Monday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Hours later, the rain comes. And then the hail. First small, then some larger hailstones, pelt the lawn, the patio, the driveway, the street, the old rusty van. The house. Stones hit the aluminum awning over the back door with an unnerving shot-like bang. Randy and I stand and watch, moving from window to window, hoping the hail doesn’t damage our roof.
Afterwards I head outside to gather a few hailstones in baggies for freezing and measuring. We have yet to inspect for damage. The day after, out-of-town roofing companies are descending on Faribault like birds returning in the spring. There is no birdsong, though, only a circling around.
These Canadian geese stand guard on the bank of the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
With spring comes the greening of grass, the blooming of flowers, the budding of trees, the gathering of waterfowl and the occasional severe storm that moves across the land. Unwelcome, but not unexpected in this season of change.
Crocuses bloom in my flowerbed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
My husband, Randy, follows a paved trail through the woods at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
A WALK INTO THE WOODS of River Bend Nature Center on a near 70-degree late March Sunday afternoon in Faribault yielded glimpses of spring unfolding, ever so slowly.
Patches of greenery emerged among dried and decaying leaves layering the earth. Tightly-clenched red buds tipped some branches. Subtle signs of early spring existed, if I looked closely. And listened.
A cardinal whistled. A woodpecker hammered. Both deep in the woods, unseen, but heard.
A mallard duck swims in the Turtle Pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
At the Turtle Pond, I expected turtles lining logs, basking in the afternoon sunshine. But I spotted only one, slipping into the slimy water before I could even lift my camera to focus a shot. Yet, the pond did not disappoint as a lone mallard duck glided across the shallow water, stopped and stood before swimming again, on toward the floating pedestrian bridge.
A geocache, found without geocaching. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Randy and I paused in the brush near pond’s edge to examine a canister seemingly tossed on the ground. A geocache, perhaps in its proper place, perhaps not. We looked inside, then left it where found.
Lovely aspens cluster in the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I kept scanning the woods for wildflowers (too early), anything that would visually cue me to this season of spring. Finding little, I concentrated on the trees. The texture of bark, which I always find artistically fascinating. A cluster of aspens, a splash of white in the gray woods. Piles and slices of wood from trees cut down.
Signage on the interpretative center door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I observed a scattering of plastic bags attached to trees, collection vessels for sap that will be cooked into maple syrup. The bags proved a conversation starter with a young family who moved here from Iowa a year ago and was on their first hike at River Bend. I love meeting new people. I explained the sap collecting, welcomed them to Faribault. And then the attention quickly turned to the four-year-old, who showed me the gray stone she found, then the faded temporary tattoos laddering her left leg and then her sparkly shoes. She bubbled with joy, only frowning when her mom mentioned her cousins back in Iowa. Cousins she misses and will see at Easter.
I found the bark on the base of this tree visually interesting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Other families and couples and singles hiked here, too, on this loveliest of March days in Minnesota. Others biked. My friend Lisa and her husband, Tom, avid bird watchers who tend bluebird houses at the nature center, warned us about deer ticks after we exchanged personal updates.
The Straight River winds through River Bend, drawing people to its banks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Down by the Straight River, a family played along the shoreline, sunshine sparkling on water. It was so good to see all these families outside, connecting with each other and with nature, away from technology and other distractions of life.
Occasionally a train roars along the tracks that run through River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
A short train roared by across the river, a flash of yellow in the monotone woods.
Lots of people, including this family, were hiking on Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Randy and I passed another young family, two little girls clutching stuffies, a child in a stroller. The eldest ran ahead, her long hair flying. And I remembered the times we came here with our preschool grandchildren who also ran like the wind. Free. Immersed in nature.
Prairie meets sky at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Exiting the woods, we crossed the prairie, its expanse stretching, meeting the sky.
Canadian geese on the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
At prairie’s edge, a pair of geese strode across the dried grasses matted by winter’s snow and wind. Occasionally the two would stop, peck at the grass, searching for food.
I arrived at River Bend wanting to photograph signs of spring. Rather, I mostly heard spring—in a din of spring peepers, in the honk of geese, in other unidentified birds singing. And in the voice of a four-year-old, excited to be out with her parents in the woods. Playing. Searching for stones to take home.
A fitting plaque on a memorial bench. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Sometimes it takes a child to remind us of the smallest joys in life. To appreciate that which is before us rather than wishing for more.
Riding a motorcycle on February 15 in Faribault, Minnesota, temps in the low fifties. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
THE JUXTAPOSITION OF A GUY in a red buffalo plaid stocking cap riding a motorcycle in Minnesota in mid-February struck me as photo-worthy. It’s not often bikers are out and about in winter. But it’s not often either that temps soar into the low fifties as they did here in southeastern Minnesota over the weekend and into Monday.
Randy and I were heading out of town when we happened upon the biker on the east side of Faribault on Sunday afternoon. I grabbed my camera, focused and shot through the passenger side of the windshield. One chance. One shot before the biker took off on Minnesota State Highway 60 toward the viaduct over the Straight River.
With the weather as warm as it was, people were outside in full force. Walking in groups. Riding scooters and bicycles. Walking the dog solo. Hanging laundry outside, me anyway. Washing their vehicles, although we never headed to the car wash.
When the sun shines and temps soar, we Minnesotans realize what a gift this is in the middle of winter. With dropping temps, rain and snow in the forecast for later this week, we understand that a day or three of extraordinary warmth and sunshine are to be savored, enjoyed, appreciated. We know that we still have a whole lot of winter ahead of us and that the weekend’s unseasonably warm temps are not real spring, only a tease.
This small memorial plaque honors parents and River Bend with joyful words. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
FOR YOU SHALL GO out in joy, and be led back in peace. Those words from Isaiah 55:12, printed on a memorial plaque by a tree near the River Bend Nature Center interpretative center, summarize well my feelings about this spacious public area of ponds and river, woodland and prairie in Faribault. Whenever I arrive here, I come with joyful anticipation. I always leave feeling refreshed, at peace. Nature has a way of infusing happiness while simultaneously calming the spirit.
I love the contrast of textured white bark against the bold blue sky of a sunny spring afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
After a long winter, which wasn’t particularly harsh by Minnesota standards, River Bend draws friends, families, couples, individuals and students to experience the unfolding of spring, me among them. This time of year, perhaps more than any other, I am cognizant of the natural world evolving, changing, teeming with life.
Buds unfurl as temps warm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
In the shelter of woods, buds tip trees, unfurling with each warm and sunny day until the barren gray branches of winter morph into a canopy of green. We’re not quite there yet. But I see the greenery. I doubt there’s a green more intense than that of early spring.
Pockets of green along the Straight River bottom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Sunlight slices shadows onto the path to the Turtle Pond and spotlights greenery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Sunlight illuminates patches of grass growing among limestone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
On recent hikes at River Bend, I noticed vivid swaths of green by the Straight River, scattered patches of green on the forest floor, tufts of greenery clinging to a rocky hillside. Green. Green. Green.
Lazy turtles on a log cause me to stop and linger. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
And sometimes turtles choose to hang out alone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
At the Turtle Pond, I delighted in the emergence of painted turtles, a cluster of them sunning themselves on a weather-worn tree lying near pond’s edge. Others chose to sunbathe alone. I am always fascinated by these creatures. They impart a sense of serenity, perhaps giving us permission to pause and enjoy the simple things in life. Like watching lounging turtles, reminding us that life’s pace needn’t always be hurried.
A family walks along a trail near the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Natural entertainment…balancing on a tree branch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
About to load up the bikes after biking at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
I especially appreciate seeing families outdoors. Walking. Balancing on a fallen branch. Biking. Being away from the distractions of busy schedules and technology and everything that intrudes on time together outside in nature.
River Bend proves a popular place for humans and dogs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
In the woods, we are sheltered and embraced while walking side-by-side, close to one another along narrow pathways. Conversations happen. We notice things, like squirrels scampering across dried leaves that hide as yet unseen spring wildflowers. Birds flit. The woods are beginning to awaken within our vision and hearing.
From a hilltop overlook, I view a diverse landscape of prairie and woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Outside the woods on the prairie, I feel exposed but innately comfortable for I am of prairie stock. I know this wind. I know this wide sky. I know these tall grasses. This landscape would please Willa Cather, American author who wrote of the Great Plains and life thereon. In her novels, she shared a deep love of the land, of place.
That blue of pond and sky…beautiful to behold. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
At the prairie-side pond, I stop to take in water and sky and land—below, above and beyond. The deep blue of the pond, a reflection of the blue sky, contrasts sharply with the muted brown of dried pond grasses and reeds. The scene is painterly beautiful.
River Bend covers hundreds of acres and is one of Faribault’s greatest treasures. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
My time at River Bend always leaves me feeling better as I forget about worries and responsibilities, deadlines and everyday distractions.
A sizable deer population lives at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Upon exiting the nature center, I am offered one final gift—three deer leisurely grazing alongside the road. They hold minimal fear of humans, so comfortable are they with the many visitors here. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if the deer would rather we just move along rather than watch them with wonder, our eyes, our souls, seeking joy and peace.
My poem about spring, shown here, was part of the 2011 Roadside Poetry Project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)
ON THIS FIRST DAY of spring, I want to share a poem I wrote in 2011. My spring-themed submission for the Roadside Poetry Project seasonal competition won. And, as a result, my poem was printed on billboard-sized signs, then placed along a roadway just off Interstate 94 in Fergus Falls in west central Minnesota. Some 100,000 vehicles a month passed by my poem.
Writing good poetry is not easy. And when you must write within guidelines, the process is even more challenging. Roadside Poetry contest rules called for only four lines of poetry with a maximum of 20 characters per line. The poem needed to fit on the signs and be readable from a distance.
Somehow, my brain managed to create what I consider a succinct and visually-strong poem defining spring. On this first day of spring, enjoy my short seasonal poem. Happy spring!
The prairie at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
IN THE IN-BETWEEN SEASON of not exactly winter, but not quite spring here in Minnesota (although the calendar says otherwise), I feel like I’m waiting. Waiting for snowfalls to end. Waiting for the landscape to transition from drab browns and grays. Waiting for vibrant colors to appear.
My neighbor’s spring flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)
There’s a sense of anticipation and wonder when buds form, when the first tender shoots of spring bulbs emerge from the soil, then flower. Purple crocuses. Sunny yellow daffodils. Followed by tulips and other flowers in a rainbow of hues.
Spring wildflowers at Kaplan’s Woods Park, Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I love the beginning of spring—real spring, not the teasing warm days of early and mid-March or simply a date (March 20) on a calendar.
Spring erupts in Minnesota at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)
I love when the landscape is flush in green, a green so vibrant that it’s almost indescribable.
Oak leaves at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
The starkness of this time of year in Minnesota focuses the eye on details, like the rough bark of a tree in the woods at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Dried seedheads at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
While I await the greening of the landscape, I remind myself to appreciate the natural world around me as it is now. The stubborn dried oak leaves that clung to branches through the fierce winds of winter. The rough textured bark of a tree. The dried seed heads and leaning swamp and prairie grasses. All hold the seasoned beauty of days, of weeks, of months, of time.
Animal prints in the snow in my backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
Seasons are not timed by a calendar date, but by the natural world. Authentic spring arrives in Minnesota on her own timetable. Often unhurried. But sometimes abrupt.
The woods at River Bend await the budding of spring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
As I await spring’s bloom and budding, I realize that the seasons of life also should not be hurried. The years pass too quickly, although we are mostly ignorant of that in our younger years. I understand that now in this advancing season of my life.
For several minutes, I watched and photographed this bald eagle soaring high above the Straight River at River Bend Nature Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
I value the moments more, recognizing that seasons end. And seasons begin.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Courageous crocuses April 9, 2026
Tags: blossoms, cold, commentary, crocus, crocuses, flowers, Minnesota, nature, seasons, spring, spring flowers, winter
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling