WHEN I NOTICED THIS SCENE in a residential neighborhood along a busy street in Owatonna, I laughed. I can’t pinpoint the precise reason. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of winter (the snow-covered yard) and summer (the motorhome and thoughts of camping).
Or perhaps I laughed because the camper covering reminds me of a Paul Bunyan-sized sleeping bag.
When laughter erupts unexpectedly, I accept it. Laughter is a gift.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Just outside of Faribault driving south on Interstate 35 toward Owatonna early Sunday afternoon.
WINTER EXITED MINNESOTA this weekend, ushering in a glimpse of spring. And it was glorious—this temporary respite from cold and snow.
Temps rose above forty degrees. The sun shone. Cardinals shrilled. Snow melted into slushy puddles. And I walked across parking lots in a sweater rather than winter coat.
I needed a weekend like this drenched mostly in sunshine, blue streaking through clouds, patches of blue sky pushing away clouds.
To the west of Interstate 35, clouds billow above snow-washed fields.
As my husband and I drove south toward Owatonna early Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t get enough of the sky.
I’m holding onto those images now that the weather is about to change with a strong winter storm predicted for Tuesday. My county of Rice is under a Winter Storm Watch while counties to the south and west are under a Blizzard Watch.
Large swatches of blue sky prevailed to the west of the Interstate.
I knew this weekend’s spring-like weather wouldn’t last.
Blue skies accentuate fighter jets at Owatonna Degner Regional Airport along the Interstate.
It never does here in Minnesota in January.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
The Minneapolis skyline as photographed from Interstate 35 in Burnsville. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, June 2015.
MINNESOTA HAS LONG been divided. Rural vs. urban. The area outside the Twin Cities metro is often referred to as Greater Minnesota or Outstate Minnesota. I don’t mind the “greater.” But outstate? Isn’t every inch of land, every single one of our 87 counties, part of the state of Minnesota?
The division of urban and rural is always most noticeable during the legislative session. Or during road construction season.
Silos mark the rural skyline on a farm in the Prior Lake area. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Despite our division and differences, we are still Minnesotans. And whether you like the busyness of the city or the quiet of the country, or something in between, you can find your right place in the diverse geography of our state.
Just north of Lamberton, Minnesota, in Redwood County, the county in which I was born. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Follow prairie to the Dakotas and hills to Wisconsin. Angle lakes and canoe winding rivers. Secret yourself away in woods or free your spirit under wide skies. Choose an office cubicle or a tractor cab to box you in. Meander along gravel roads or rush along the interstate.
The downtown Minneapolis skyline, up close. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Whatever your preferred skyline, embrace it. Urban isn’t better than rural and rural isn’t better than urban. Not in the sense of a grand, broad statement. But from a personal perspective, we have our preferences. And that is good. Our state needs balance. And we should respect that.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Dairy Delite in Lakeville, photographed on a frigid Saturday afternoon in January.
IF I WAS TO CONDUCT a survey on Minnesotans’ consumption of ice cream, I expect the numbers would plummet in months like January and soar during the hot days of July. Makes sense considering the temperature.
My desire for ice cream drops considerably in winter. I’m cold enough without feeding more cold into my body. But not always.
Just the other night I craved not ice cream, but fro yo. I remember when my eldest daughter first mentioned fro yo probably five-plus years ago. The frozen treat was just trending in southern Minnesota. I had no idea what she was talking about. Eventually fro yo reached Faribault with the opening of Berry Blast in 2013. The business recently closed. I never got there.
In Faribault, Dairy Queen reigns with two shops within a short distance of one another. I like Dairy Queen. But if I get a treat there once a year, that’s about it. And then it’s only if I have a coupon to discount the high prices.
I’ve never been a chain restaurant fan. I much prefer locally-grown businesses with character, uniqueness and charm. Like the Dairy Delite, recently photographed in Lakeville. It’s closed for the season, has been since October, and will reopen in April.
I wish we had a quaint stand-alone nostalgic ice cream place like Dairy Delite in Faribault. Visitors look for such signature sites to purchase treats in the heat of a humid summer day. Locals appreciate these mom-and-pop ice cream shops, too. Here’s a thought—combine an ice cream place with promotion of the Tilt-A-Whirl, an Americana amusement ride which originated in Faribault. Just dreamin’ here in the midst of winter…
Tell me about your favorite original ice cream shop.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Driving Fillmore County Road 21 north of Canton toward Henrytown then west to Dennis and Mary Hershberger’s farm. This is deep in Minnesota Amish country. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012.
THREE SUMMERS AGO, my husband and I explored the extreme southeastern portion of Minnesota that is home to pockets of Amish. During that tour, just north of Canton, we followed back roads to the home of Dennis Hershberger, a gifted carpenter who crafts raw wood into stunning pieces of furniture at his Countryside Furniture business.
An overview of Canton’s historic area. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012.
Today I am thinking of Dennis and other Canton area Amish suffering the loss of two community members who died in an early Monday morning house fire. The victims have been tentatively identified as a local bishop, Yost Hershberger, 58, and his son, Ben, 18. Three other family members went to the hospital with non-life threatening injuries.
A snapshot of Dennis Hershberger’s farm yard. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012.
I don’t know whether Dennis the carpenter is related to the two men who died. Hershberger is a common name among the Amish. But Dennis and his family live near the scene of Monday’s fatal house fire along Fillmore County Road 21. Whether connected by blood or by community, the commonality of grief now unites this Amish settlement.
Just last May, 23-year-old Yost J. Hershberger of Decorah, Iowa, died after being trapped between a logging truck and a trailer in nearby rural Mabel. Another tragedy within this tight-knit community of Amish.
On this day, I feel a deep sense of sadness for the Hershberger family, for these Amish of southeastern Minnesota.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
THE WEATHERMAN PROMISED mostly sunny skies Sunday in southern Minnesota. But predictions and reality don’t always match. Rather than sunshine here in Faribault, grey skies prevailed, matching my mood.
I needed a walk in the woods, an escape. Time to envelope myself in nothing but nature, in the muffled quiet of traversing a snow-covered trail winding through River Bend Nature Center.
There is something about trudging through snow, about pausing to study the bark of a naked tree, about tipping your head upward toward the sky, even if it is grey, that temporarily nudges away heartache.
So I walked with my husband through the sparse landscape of black-and-white. Sparse words. Silence in between. A Robert Frost poem. Only the sporadic cross country skier interrupted our solitude.
Occasionally I stopped to snapshot a scene. When my fingertips ached with cold from photographing birds in 27 degrees, I wove across the patchy ice of the parking lot to our Chevy.
There I photographed my final nature scene on a license plate.
Then our car wound back through River Bend, past snowy woods and a frozen pond, past the razor wire fence and grounds of the Minnesota Correctional Facility, Faribault (which sits right next to the Nature Center), back to reality. Still shrouded by grey skies.
BONUS PHOTOS:
Walking the dogs.
A tag at the base of a tree.
A sign in the woods explains an effort to rid River Bend of buckthorn by utilizing goats to eat the invasive tree.
Goats from Goat Dispatch will also consume these Christmas trees and wreaths dropped off by area residents. The goats will be on-site during River Bend’s January 24 WinterFest.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
MY DEAR READERS,
I hope your year has been a mostly good one. Hope. That was my chosen focus word for 2015 and will remain my focus word into 2016.
My great niece Kiera painted this stone, which I chose as a BINGO prize at a family reunion. Since then, I’ve had her paint a similar HOPE stone for a friend going through a difficult time. This HOPE stone sits on my office desk.
A strong visual reminder of hope sits on my office desk. It is a HOPE stone, crafted by a great niece.
There are days when we all need hope. Whether you are dealing with financial challenges, health issues, relationship difficulties, a personal loss, grief or anything else that weighs you down, may you see HOPE in the New Year. The flip of the calendar offers the opportunity to begin anew.
In four months, a baby girl will be born, making me a grandma. She is reason for joy. A new life. A new beginning for my eldest and her husband. A new beginning for me and my husband as grandparents.
May you, too, dear readers, find such joys in 2016.
Thank you for being a part of my life, for sharing your thoughts, for encouraging and supporting me and my writing and photography. I am grateful as 2015 closes and a new year unfurls full of possibilities and hope.
Audrey
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
MINNESOTA STATE HIGHWAY 99 rolls through farm country and small towns from northeast of Faribault to Nicollet.
I call it the back road to my native southwestern Minnesota. It’s the route my husband and I take to vary our travel or to avoid U.S. Highway 14 road construction and/or traffic between Mankato and Nicollet.
Usually we are in a hurry , which allows no time to explore. It is a sad fact of much travel these days. But even in haste, I notice details.
When Randy mentioned that the Highway 99 bridge over the Minnesota River in St. Peter is due for replacement, I snapped a photo just as were about to cross it. I love bridges like this with architectural character. The 1931 steel truss bridge is on the National Register of Historic Places and slated for rehab (not replacement) in 2017, according to the Minnesota Department of Transportation website.
Waiting at a stoplight just across the bridge in the heart of downtown St. Peter, I turned my camera lens to a Swedish Imports sign, noting that we really must stop here sometime.
To the west of St. Peter in Nicollet, I photographed a sign for Schmidt’s Meat Market as we drove through town. The market has become a destination for many. We stopped there once. I popped inside, but quickly retreated to the car. Most people like the smokey smell of a meat market. I don’t. But that’s OK. We’re all different, with distinct tastes, likes and dislikes. That keeps the route through life varied and interesting.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
WHEN I SPOTTED THIS MESSAGE to Santa while traveling through New Ulm on Saturday en route to a family Christmas gathering, I laughed. What a humorous way to draw attention to a real estate company, I thought.
But then I thought some more about that message after reading a magazine article titled “5 times when you should hold your tongue.” The writer of the piece in Real Simple advised that diplomacy, tact and a lot of silence can go a long way. In other words, think before you speak or write. That’s great advice.
You may think it’s your sister’s fault when, in reality, it isn’t. Perception is not always truth.
I’m a big proponent of listening. I truly believe if we all chose to listen, rather than jump to conclusions, many disagreements would never happen. But in the heat of the moment, when we feel we’ve been wronged, we fail to hear anyone’s voice but our own. That is the precise time when we need to clamp our lips, lift fingertips from keyboards and cell phones and consider that, yes, there’s another side to this story. Once hurtful words are written or spoken, they cannot be taken back.
The holidays are a great time to reconnect with family. But such gatherings can also prove stressful. Travel, too much alcohol, lack of sleep, changes in routine, strong personalities, perceived grievances and more can fuel disagreements. It’s all too easy to lash out with angry words. Don’t. Just don’t.
I tend to fade into the background at family gatherings. I’m quiet and reserved. I listen more than I speak. I prefer to talk one-on-one with family members rather than wedge my voice into a conversation dominated by strong personalities in a roomful of people.
It’s important to remember that only in silence can you listen.
Would Santa rather read “It was my sister’s fault!” or “I’m sorry I was mean to my sister?”
Thoughts?
Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
WAITING IN THE CELL PHONE LOT at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport late Thursday morning, I watched plane after plane after plane land and take-off.
Mostly, though, I focused my eyes on planes flying in from the east. A United Airlines flight would bring my 21-year-old son home from Boston, via Washington D.C.
He always takes connecting flights to save money. And he usually flies Southwest. But this time, for whatever reason (probably cost), he chose United.
More than five months have passed since I’ve seen my son, a senior at Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts. Too long. Too many miles between us. I am grateful, though, for text messages, phone calls, emails and Skype.
On this bone-chilling December morning, I waited, with my husband scratching numbers into his Sudoku book, me photographing planes arriving and leaving MSP. I wondered a few times if security was watching me, questioning why the woman inside the white van was photographing planes.
Finally, I spotted a United Express flight that matched the son’s text message description from DC: “I’m on a tiny plane to Minneapolis. I had to walk out into the tarmac in order to board.”
Soon my cell phone buzzed with the news that he had landed. And then we waited another 32 minutes for his message to drive to Terminal 1 for pick-up at Door 5.
He is home now as I write this at 2:40 p.m. Thursday. He’s fed. Dirty clothes are in the wash. I am a happy mama.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
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