Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Celebrating poetry: Reflections from a Minnesota poet April 4, 2022

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Roses from my husband, Randy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012)

Roses are red,

violets are blue.

Sugar is sweet

and so are you.

RAISE YOUR HAND if that’s the first poem you ever read or heard. My right hand is wildly waving. See it, right there next to a mass of many many hands?

Me, next to my posted poem, “River Stories,” selected for the 2019 Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride. (Minnesota Prairie Roots November 2019 file photo by Randy Helbling)

Today, April 4, marks day four of National Poetry Month, which celebrates the importance of poetry in our culture and lives. Whether you like or dislike poetry, it holds value as a form of artistic expression, communication, storytelling, endearment…

Many of my poems (plus short stories and creative nonfiction) have been selected for publication in The Talking Stick, an annual anthology published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I am proud to call myself a poet. A published poet. How did I get there? I’ve always loved words, the song of language. Poetry is, I think, a lot like music. It carries a rhythm. A beat. A cadence. That comparison comes from a poet who can’t carry a tune, can’t read a musical note, can’t play an instrument.

A Chamber Choir performs artsongs written from poems, directed by David Kassler. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo April 2017)

But in 2017, a chamber choir performed my poem, “The Farmer’s Song,” at two concerts in Rochester. David Kassler composed the music for my poem and six others as part of an artsong project. To sit in that audience and hear those vocalists sing my poem was overwhelmingly humbling. And validating.

I took poetic license and photoshopped this image of the button I wore identifying me as a poet at a Poetry Bash. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I am a poet.

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

My poetry has been published in newspapers, magazines, literary journals, anthologies… And in unexpected places. In 2011, my spring-themed poem bannered four billboards in Fergus Falls as part of the Roadside Poetry Project. Other poems have been posted on signs along trails as part of the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride. “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother” is currently showcased in an exhibit at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum in Marshall, Minnesota, in my hometown area.

Jeanne Licari’s absolutely stunning interpretation of my “Lilacs” poem. Her “Lilacs on the Table” is oil on mounted linen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2014)

Some of my poems have inspired art in Poet-Artist Collaborations, been aired on the radio and read by me at poetry readings.

I read poetry at this event at my local arts center in March 2019. I was honored to read with other talented area poets. (Promo courtesy of the Paradise Center for the Arts)

Even I’m surprising myself at the volume of poetry I’ve crafted through the decades. I never set out to be a poet. It simply happened as an extension of my love of words, of language. And that undeniable need to express myself creatively. Unlike that “Roses are red…” introductory poetry of old, my poems do not rhyme.

My poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother,” with accompanying photos (center of this photo) in the Lyon County exhibit. (Photo courtesy of the LCHS)

My poetry is like me. Unpretentious. Down-to-earth understandable. Flannel shirt and blue jeans. Honest. Detail-oriented. Rooted in the land with a strong sense of place and a story to be told.

TELL ME: What’s your opinion of poetry? Do you read it, like it, write it? I’d like to hear.

Please click on links in this post to read some of the poems I’ve written.

FYI: Content Bookstore, 314 Division St. S., Northfield, is hosting two Poetry Nights, both beginning at 7 pm. On Thursday, April 7, Northfield poet Diane LeBlanc will read from her latest works. That includes her new poetry book, The Feast Delayed. Northfield Poet Laureate Rob Hardy and poet Greta Hardy-Mittell will read from their latest works also. Hardy’s newest poetry collection, Shelter in Place, just released.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Whispers of history & heritage at Valley Grove March 29, 2022

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Valley Grove churches rise over the hill as I follow the prairie path back to the church grounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

ATOP THIS HILL, here on the edge of the Big Woods among acres of fields near Nerstrand, I hear the whispers. Wrapping around the two historic churches. Rising from the cemetery. Sweeping through the tall prairie grasses.

The cemetery sits next to the churches, then rings the old stone church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

This is Valley Grove, overlooking the countryside, the place where Norwegian immigrants came. Here they crafted their first church from stone in 1862, then built a second, of wood, in 1894. Both still stand.

The Valley Grove Preservation Society cares about the land, too, with restoration and preservation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
I spotted swirls of prairie grass alongside a trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Dried hydrangea alongside the wooden church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

The churches, cemetery and surrounding 50 acres are today owned, preserved and managed by the Valley Grove Preservation Society. They are a favorite nearby rural destination for me. I appreciate the natural beauty, the history, the country quiet and more. Even the wind.

A view from the parking lot, outside the fenced grounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

On a recent March Sunday afternoon I walked the prairie paths, wound among aged tombstones, admired the sturdy churches. And while I’ve wandered these grounds many times and attended community celebrations inside and outside the church buildings, each visit brings new discoveries and reminders of why I love this place so much.

Atop the steeple of the old stone church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I value the rural-ness. On this afternoon, the shrill crow of a rooster, the sharp crack of gunshots and the barks of two dogs running loose broke the silence. In the context of location, the sounds fit. Not that I like gunshots echoing or strange canines circling me. But they did no harm as I continued along the stomped, sometimes soggy grass trail back toward the Valley Grove Cemetery and churches.

Land and sky define the prairie path. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

When following the prairie paths under a wide sky, I hear whispers of the past. Of wheels creaking under the weight of wagons crammed with an immigrant family’s belongings. Of a young mother bent over her baby, singing a soothing song from the Old Country. Of a weary farmer sighing after a long day of breaking the land.

The roofline and steeple of the simple 1862 stone church rise above the rural landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

If this place could speak, it would whisper the stories of all those Norwegian immigrants who settled in and around Valley Grove and then gathered on this hilltop location to worship, socialize, celebrate, mourn.

The 1894 church closeup. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
The bell in the wooden church still rings for special occasions. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

On this winter day, the church doors are locked. But I’ve been inside both buildings. They are basic. Simple. Mostly unadorned. The wooden church is still used today for special worship services like weddings. The old stone church serves primarily as a social gathering room. Both are well preserved. Valued.

In the foreground, the back of the old stone church, which sits near the wooden church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Soon four tapestries, woven in the Norwegian billedvev tradition, will grace the walls of the stone church. Minneapolis weaver Robbie LaFleur was commissioned by the Valley Grove Preservation Society to create the art. It features the plants, animals, land, immigrants and churches of Valley Grove. A grant from the National Fund for Sacred Places funded the project. LaFleur’s tapestries will be showcased during a Syttende Mail celebration from 2-4 pm Sunday, May 15.

One of many Oles buried at Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Much art already exists at Valley Grove, within the cemetery. I consider tombstones to be works of art, documentations of lives. The stone markers are many, from aged to recent. Names engraved thereon reflect the primarily Norwegian heritage. Ole. Erik. Einar. Inger. If these tombstones among the oaks could speak, oh, the stories they would tell. Of life in the Old Country. And of life in the New World, of this place, this Valley Grove.

FYI: Please check back for a post about the Valley Grove Cemetery.

© Copyright 2022 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

 

Inside the student art show at the Paradise, Part II March 17, 2022

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Love the student art spanning walls in a current exhibit at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault. Aubrey Schafer, Roosevelt Elementary fourth grader, created the Love art on the left. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

IF I COULD TALK to these students, what would they tell me about their art? Would their responses show a passion for creating? Would they tell me they were just completing an assignment? Or would their answers fall somewhere in between?

Assorted art by Lincoln Elementary students. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

As a wordsmith, I often wonder about the stories behind the art displayed at the annual All Area Student Show at the Paradise Center for the Arts in historic downtown Faribault. While perusing the pieces, I see varied versions of the same theme. That reveals a general classroom assignment focused on a subject. Yet even that prompt leads to individual creativity.

Portrait by Isaac Rodriguez, fifth grader at Roosevelt Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

What would Ayub, Mariyo, Isaac, Natalia, Aubrey, Lily, Myrka, Jaelynn, Mumtaaz, Brianna, Rain and the many other student artists say about their art? The art they created at their respective schools—Faribault Area Learning Center and Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt Elementary schools.

Student art runs the length of a second floor hallway. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

When I view their exhibit, I am impressed by the level of talent—from kindergarten through high school. But this is about much more than talent. This is about encouraging young people in the arts. This is about showing us adults that young people have an artistic voice. This is about taking away our own interpretations of this artwork.

Colorful insect art by Ayub Osman, fourth grade, Lincoln Elementary. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)I
Myrka Mendoza, Faribault Area Learning Center 11th grader, drew this realistic butterfly. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Envisioning Mariyo Mohamed’s (second grader at Lincoln Elementary) snail in a picture book. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I appreciate how, even on the theme of nature, students’ interpretations range from boldly colorful—as if illustrated in a children’s picture book—to realistic—as if printed in the pages of a nature guidebook.

This textured birthday cake art by Lincoln second grader Jaelynn Martinez makes me want to grab a slice and celebrate. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

The art shown in this exhibit conveys celebration, joy, history, a sense of place, personality, messages, nature and more.

Each art piece is titled with basics of name, grade and school. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

If these students wrote artists’ statements, what backstories would they share? What inspires them? Why did they choose bold or subtle? Are they conveying a message? Or simply creating?

Art by students from Jefferson Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

As someone who’s created with words and images for decades, I understand how my prairie background, upbringing in a southwestern Minnesota farm family and personality influence my work. I write and photograph with a strong sense of place, with detail. And, I hope, with compassion, empathy, understanding, connection and a desire to make a positive difference. I listen. I observe. I create.

Created by Lily Krauth, kindergarten, Roosevelt Elementary. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I create, too, with a focus on what’s right here—in our area communities, in the countryside… And, today, what’s on the second floor of the Paradise Center for the Arts—the art of young creatives.

FYI: The student art show continues through April 9 at the Paradise, 321 Central Avenue North, Faribault. PCA hours are from noon – 5 pm Wednesday through Friday and from 10 am – 2 pm Saturdays. Click here to read Part I in this two-part series.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Encouraging young people in the arts via Paradise exhibit, Part I March 16, 2022

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Eye-catching student art lines a second floor hallway at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault. The eye art is by Wyatt Suckow, Lincoln Elementary School first grader. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

ENCOURAGEMENT. OPPORTUNITY. CONFIDENCE. Like dominoes, those three words tip into one another. And the result for young people can make all the difference.

A poster outside the main gallery at the Paradise Center for the Arts promotes the student art show on the second floor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Those thoughts emerge upon viewing the All Student Art Show at the Paradise Center for the Arts in historic downtown Faribault. This year’s show, featuring the art of students from Faribault Area Learning Center and Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt Elementary Schools, runs until April 9.

Eydelin Leon Ruiz, Roosevelt Elementary School second grader, created this sweet kitty face. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I view this show through not only an appreciative lens, but also through the lens of encouraging students in the arts. Showcasing their art in a public exhibit most assuredly builds confidence.

One of the more unusual pieces of art was crafted by two Lincoln Elementary School fourth graders, Cole Hammer and Barrett Boudreau. The folded art looks different when viewed from opposite sides. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

If we all thought for a moment, I expect we could list individuals in our lives who encouraged us in our interests, passions and/or careers. For me, that would be Mrs. Kotval, an elementary school teacher who each afternoon read aloud chapters from books—the entire Little House series, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (and Tom Sawyer), Black Beauty… From those post lunch readings, my love for language and stories sparked. In middle school, Mrs. Sales fostered my increasing love for language and writing. Across the hall, a math teacher (whom I shall not name) scared me so much that my dislike of numbers multiplied. In high school, Mr. Skogen required journal keeping, further fostering my love of writing. And in college, Mr. Shipman and Mrs. Olson offered such encouragement that I never questioned my decision to pursue a journalism degree.

A portrait by Huda Muse, Faribault Area Learning Center junior. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

How reaffirming then to have educators encouraging young people in the arts, and an arts center that values their work.

Each piece of art names the artist and his/her school and grade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

At this student art exhibit, you won’t find ribbons or other awards. And that, too, I appreciate. You’ll find art. Simply art. I think too often there’s a tendency to pass out ribbons to everyone. Kids can see right through universal praise, which then feels mostly meaningless.

Art aplenty… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
The art of Roosevelt Elementary School kindergartner Joey Trevino. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Art, inside a classroom exhibit space and outside along a hallway. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

But nothing is meaningless about the art showcased along the hallway and a classroom on the second floor of the Paradise. Every student, from kindergarten through high school, created a work of art worthy of public showing. Worthy, not necessarily by the art critic definition of art, but rather via the definition of this is something a child/pre-teen/teen created. That’s the value therein.

A cardinal by Nova Vega, a kindergartner at Jefferson Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

Perhaps some of these students will pursue art professionally. But I expect most won’t. For some, art will always be a side interest/hobby/pursuit. Yet, this early encouragement, no matter future interest, fosters an appreciation for the arts that can last a lifetime. What a gift that is to our young people.

Birch trees painted by Suprise Sonpon, 4th grade, Jefferson Elementary School. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

To the students who created art for the 2022 exhibit, thank you for sharing your creativity. To the educators who worked with these youth, thank you. And to the Paradise Center for the Arts, thank you for each year hosting this student art exhibit. What a gift to our community.

Faribault Area Learning Center students Hunter Quast and Justin Horejsi worked together to create this service station model. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

TELL ME: Did someone encourage you at a young age to follow an interest/passion/other pursuit? I’d like to hear.

FYI: Other area arts centers are also featuring youth art in current exhibits. At the Owatonna Arts Center, view the Owatonna Public Schools K-12 Art Exhibit from now until March 27. At the Arts and Heritage Center of Montgomery, student art from Tri-City United is now displayed, beginning with elementary age. That transitions to art by middle schoolers and then to high school students, through May 14.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Regarding Ukraine March 9, 2022

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A peace dove themes this painting on burlap by Mexican artist Jose Maria de Servin. I purchased this at a recycled art sale in Faribault perhaps 10 years ago. It is among my most-treasured pieces of art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

I’M STRUGGLING, really struggling, with the invasion of Ukraine by Russia and the resulting death, destruction and humanitarian crisis.

Deaths of civilians, documented in a powerful image of a mother, her teenage son, her elementary-age daughter and a family friend killed by Russian mortar fire. Lying dead in the street, luggage beside them, as they attempted to reach safety in Kyiv. Photojournalist Lynsey Addario witnessed the attack and photographed the scene for The New York Times. That published March 6 on the front page. In a television interview, I could see and hear Addario’s pain, her grief. She struggled to photograph the deadly scene, terming this killing of innocent civilians a “war crime,” which the world needed to see. I saw. I cried.

I’ve seen, too, media images of bombed homes and other buildings. Utter destruction. I cry.

And I cry, too, over the “humanitarian crisis,” the endless exit of refugees from this country under attack. I can’t even count how many times I’ve cried over scenes of young mothers wheeling suitcases with young children clinging to their hands. I imagine my own daughter doing the same with my two grandchildren and the idea of that shakes me to the core. To see children clutching their stuffed lovies or a mom spoon-feeding soup to her preschooler roadside or a soldier cradling a baby…it’s overwhelmingly sad.

I wonder why, this time, I’ve felt such angst, such concern, such grief. War has always wrought death, destruction and exodus. But this seems different in sheer numbers of individuals and families fleeing. This seems different in the depth of evil behind what is unfolding in Ukraine. This seems different in the worldwide implications. I write this in the context of my life-time.

I think, too, my husband’s connection to Ukraine, where his ancestors resettled from Germany to then Russia (current-day Ukraine), deepens my sorrow. His forefathers once farmed the land around Odessa before journeying to America and a new life in North Dakota.

In prayer…just as Mary is depicted praying in this statue at the Holy Trinity Catholic Church Grotto in Waterville, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2016)

My feelings now are mostly of concern, angst, helplessness. Yet, there are three actions I am taking. As a woman of faith, I pray. I pray for protection of the Ukrainian people, some by name (given to me by friends). I pray for their leader, President Volodymyr Zelensky, and other world leaders. I pray for peace. And more.

I am also supporting and encouraging friends worried about people in Ukraine. Family of family. Friends.

I purchased this vintage tray at an antique shop in St. Charles many years ago. It’s likely from the 60s or 70s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)

And, finally, I’ve pulled out my “peace” art as a visual reminder. Coming of age in the 1960s and 1970s, at the time of the Vietnam War, the word “peace” played into my everyday vocabulary. The peace symbol was everywhere. On posters, jewelry, drawn in my spiral-bound notebooks. Today, more than ever, I need visual cues that peace is possible. I need hope when I cry.

TELL ME: How are you reacting to the situation unfolding in Ukraine? If you have personal connections to Ukraine and feel comfortable sharing, please do.

ALSO, please take time to read my friend Paula’s post, “Spring in Europe.” You will be moved by the message from this US combat veteran and native Minnesotan living with her husband in the Netherlands.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections from Minnesota rooted in Ukraine February 25, 2022

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I pulled stories from a family history book for a family history trivia contest at a 2017 Helbling reunion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

YESTERDAY I PULLED A SPIRAL-BOUND family genealogy book from an upstairs closet. Compiled in 1993 by my sister-in-law Vivian, the book details the families of Alfred Helbling and Rosa Schaner Knoll Helbling. For someone like me who married into the Helbling family, it takes effort to understand the information therein, especially with second marriages (due to deaths) and stepchildren.

A stone building in southern Wisconsin, used for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo)

But I’m clear on one fact—the Helbling ancestors are considered “Germans from Russia.” As the family tree shows, the Helblings trace their roots back to Wingen, Alsace in the Rhine River Plain. Like many Germans, they left their homeland for Russia when Russian Czarina Catherine the Great (a former German princess) promised free farmland and more to immigrants. My husband Randy’s great great great great grandfather and his family were among the founding fathers of the Catholic colony of Speier in 1809. That’s in the southern area of current day Ukraine near the Black Sea port city of Odessa.

So now you understand why I pulled that family genealogy book from the closet. The unfolding invasion of Ukraine (including in Odessa) resonates with me in a way that is personal. This land, now under attack by the Russian military, was once home to the Helbling family. They arrived in this area with hopes and dreams.

As often happens in history, leadership and policies change. That prompted Randy’s great grandparents, Russian-born Valentine and Emina Helbling, to emigrate to the U.S. from Russia. They arrived in Mandan, North Dakota in May 1893. Accompanying them were their three sons, including 5-year-old Alfred, Randy’s grandpa.

“Threshing on the home place, rural St. Anthony, North Dakota,” a painting by my father-in-law. Thomas Helbling. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’m always amazed at the generational closeness of my husband to his family’s homeland. Mine is a generation farther removed (from Germany). In 1898, Valentine and Emina homesteaded a claim near St. Anthony south of Mandan. That young boy who traversed the ocean from Russia with his parents would also farm there as would Randy’s father, Tom. When Randy was seven, his family uprooted and moved to central Minnesota.

As I consider all of this family history, I wonder at the dreams and challenges. To leave your home country behind, understanding you would never return, takes fortitude. I can only imagine the fortitude Ukrainians must tap in to today as they face a Russian invasion.

Early in his marriage, Alfred Helbling faced an unspeakable loss—the tragic death of his first wife. Katherine, 27, apparently lost her balance, fell into a well and died while retrieving a container of milk stored inside.

Artwork created by Gracie for a 2018 student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo March 2018)

Today people are dying in Ukraine, a country that suddenly doesn’t seem all that far away. An ocean and some 5,200 miles separate this land from Minnesota. But when I page through the spiral-bound genealogy of the Helbling family, I feel much closer. Closer in a way that causes me to feel emotional. Upset. Concerned. Worried about not only the future of Ukraine, but also of this world.

FYI: If you’re interested in learning more about “Germans from Russia,” click here to reach North Dakota State University’s “Germans from Russia Heritage Collection” website.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Shoo, go away litterbugs February 21, 2022

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Lying on the sidewalk in front of my house, a beer bottle, one of many that land there, on the boulevard and in the yard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

LIVING ALONG A BUSY STREET means more than dealing with noisy traffic. It also means dealing with litter. Tossed beer bottles and cans. Fast food bags and containers. Lots of those. Even a tire, which rolled off a vehicle and slammed into the side of our house, just missing the gas meter many years ago. And this winter, a stop sign propelled into the yard after a car went out of control on the icy street, jumped the curb and took out the sign.

Litter photographed several months ago at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2021)

It bugs me when people litter. The phrase “Don’t be a litterbug” comes to mind. If you’re of a certain age, you perhaps remember that 1960s anti-littering ad campaign. Lady Bird Johnson (First Lady to President Lyndon B. Johnson) championed efforts to stop littering and to limit billboards visually littering our roadways.

Hiking boots, tossed into the creek at Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2021)

As a teen, I once picked up litter from road ditches in my home county of Redwood. Employed through a southwestern Minnesota summertime program for low income families, I joined three other girls in working for the county highway department. One day we were tasked with collecting litter. Now decades later I recall only two of the many items we gathered from ditches—a dirty diaper and a torn up love letter. During our noon lunch break, we pieced together that letter. I wish I recalled the words written on that lined notebook paper. But I only remember how entertained we were.

Sometimes balls roll down the hill and into our yard, never to be retrieved by children, but by me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

Thankfully we’ve come a long ways in eliminating litter—although I still see plenty—and in reducing trash sent to the landfill. Recycling helps. My eldest daughter and her husband even participate in organic recycling. In this program offered through their south metro county, they save food scraps, tissues, napkins and more which can be recycled. Yes, it’s extra work. But I applaud this additional effort to limit what goes into our landfills.

I photographed this abandoned refrigerator on the shoulder of a gravel road just outside Faribault last fall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2021)

Of all the littering, other than in my own yard, I’m particularly bothered by the dumping of appliances, mattresses and furniture into ditches and along roadways. I recognize getting rid of these unwanted items can prove costly. Some cities host annual community clean-up days to collect items like these. And maybe that’s the solution because not everyone can afford disposal. Make the disposal easy, convenient and free, or low cost.

To the left in this image, you can see the black tire mark on the siding from a tire that came off a vehicle and rolled down the hill, slamming into our house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Therein lies a benefit of living along a busy street. Whenever Randy and I want to get rid of something, because we’ve upgraded or no longer need the item, we set it curbside tagged with a FREE sign. And each time, someone stops to claim our discards. Swing set. Recliner. Lamp. End table. Headboard and frame. Bookshelf. And more items that I’m not recalling. Sure, maybe we could have sold these things, but we didn’t want the hassle. And, if someone needed what we no longer needed, then we were happy to give it away.

I found this tire repair tool in a street corner flowerbed by our house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

But please, dear people, who pass by our house either on foot or by vehicle, we don’t need your litter.

TELL ME: What litter/discards/trash bother you in particular? What especially unusual items have you seen tossed in a ditch, onto a sidewalk, along the road, at a nature center…? Do you recycle and, if yes, what?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Double the family birthdays in February February 9, 2022

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo)

THE EARLY DAYS of February hold a special place in our family. On subsequent days years apart, I birthed my eldest daughter and then, the day before her eighth birthday, my son. What are the odds? My second daughter was born in mid-November.

Amber, age six months.

Time has a way of slipping by. It seems only yesterday that Amber arrived via emergency C-section following a labor so ridiculously long that I don’t even want to remember it. Eventually, my doctor determined she was frank breech. I’ll always remember the joy I felt in seeing my first-born. All 9 lbs., 7 oz. of her. A darling girl turned woman who has always possessed a loving, caring and giving spirit. And a dose of humor inherited from her father.

Often, Randy and I told young Amber that we loved her more than pizza. She observed, in blooming tulips, that “the flowers are opening their mouths.” And once, on a lengthy trip to Mandan/Bismarck for a Helbling family reunion, she refused to nap because she said she might miss something. She declared, then, too, that everyone lived in hotels (given the lack of farm and town sightings). I was pregnant with her brother. It proved a long trip with frequent bathroom stops.

For his eighth birthday, Caleb’s sisters created a PEEF cake for their brother. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

When Caleb was born, the bond between brother and sisters proved almost instantaneous. Both girls eagerly cuddled their 10 lb, 12-ounce baby brother, giving me much-needed time to prepare meals, for example. They later taught him numbers and letters and once created a PEEF birthday cake for him. They remain bonded not only by genetics and memories, but by a genuine familial love and care for one another. Sure, they sometimes got under each others’ skin while growing up. That passed.

Caleb at 1 1/2 days old. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

My first memory of Caleb post C-section birth was watching as a nurse brought him to me, near enough to kiss his warm baby soft cheek. Oh, love beyond love. If only I could have taken my chunky son with the head of thick reddish hair into my arms. But the surgeon had yet to perform inguinal hernia surgery.

Post surgery I experienced an excruciating spinal headache that left me nauseated, in pain and unable to hold Caleb for any length of time. Nothing, and I mean nothing, worked and I left the hospital days later still feeling awful. I shall forever feel grateful to the OB nurses who loved on Caleb when I couldn’t.

Love. When I became a mother all those decades ago, then expanding my mother’s love twice more, I understood what it meant to love selflessly. I will always always always be there for my daughters and son. To encourage. To support. To celebrate.

Caleb and Amber. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2017)

This week I celebrate the birthdays of two amazing individuals. Amber, a full-time mom to my two darling grandchildren. I love watching her as a mother; she’s patient, loving, kind, encouraging… Caleb, back in college as a full-time PhD student, whose strength I admire. I miss him and think of him every day, as I do my second daughter living in eastern Wisconsin.

Yet, despite our geographical separation (Caleb lives in Indiana), nothing can distance us from the years we all lived under the same roof. Years of love and memories that bond us as family. Our love endures and so does that we’re-always-here-for-one-another attitude.

Happy birthday, Amber and Caleb, with love from Mom!

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

With gratitude as I grieve January 26, 2022

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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Just a sampling of the many cards I’ve received since my mom died. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

IN THE RAWNESS OF GRIEF at my mother’s death on January 13, I feel such gratitude for the love and support I have received and continue to receive from people in my life. That includes you, my dear readers and friends. Thank you.

Thank you for your tender comments here. Thank you for the cards and notes. Thank you for the texts and emails and phone conversations. Thank you for the prayers, the care, the concern, the encouragement.

A thoughtful gift, a journal from my friend Kathleen, whom I “met” through this blogging community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

I feel uplifted, deeply loved by the blogging community and by those with whom I am otherwise connected. In grief, I need to lean into your words. Into your expressions of care. To not feel alone.

The beautiful lead crystal cross included in a lovely floral arrangement from my son-in-law Marc’s parents, Eric and Lynn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Some of you noted that you feel like you knew my mother via the stories and photos I’ve shared on Minnesota Prairie Roots. I appreciate that you feel connected to her because of those posts. She was the essence of kindness, compassion and care. A woman of faith living her faith.

A lovely floral bouquet from my daughter Miranda featuring her grandma’s favorite flower, irises. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Thank you for understanding the depth of my loss and how especially difficult these past two-plus years of only limited visits with Mom due to COVID-19 restrictions in her long-term care center. This pandemic creates challenges that add unnecessary stress to the grief process, too. It’s been hard, really hard.

A post will be forthcoming about my dear sweet mom. But I need time yet to process my loss, to reflect, to cry. Thank you for being here for me. Yesterday. Always. I am grateful.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling