Minnesota Prairie Roots

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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