Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A love & hate relationship with winter March 14, 2014

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Along a gravel road somewhere between Nerstrand and Kenyon, Minnesota.

Along a gravel road somewhere between Nerstrand and Kenyon, Minnesota. That’s the driveway, not the road.

FOR ALL OF THE TIMES I’ve spurned this winter of brutal cold and deep snow, I must confess to a certain appreciation for the poetic dreaminess of a snowy rural landscape.

Winter exposes, uncovers, bares the basics to the eyes in a way that the fullness of summer cannot.

Power lines and roads cut horizontal swaths. Farm sites beckon like a welcome oasis in a sea of white. Bare-branched trees flag the sky.

A red barn seems redder, a steely grey bin greyer. And a white farmhouse simply vanishes.

This is winter. Spurned. And, sometimes, loved.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

All roads lead “somewhere” March 13, 2014

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EXCEPT IN MY NATIVE southwestern Minnesota prairie, where roads run mostly straight and the land lies divided into field grids, I possess no sense of direction.

That navigational deficiency evokes occasional tense moments when my husband and I journey into unfamiliar territory. We have neither smart phones nor a GPS, only a road map, an atlas and Randy’s sense of direction to guide us.

I always want to know exactly where we are and where we are headed. He, on the other hand, is an adventurer attempting to calm my unease. The road “will lead somewhere,” he reassures, which isn’t at all reassuring.

Which way he asked?

“Which way?” he asked.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, as we drove “somewhere” east of Nerstrand, aiming toward Kenyon, we came upon an intersection of gravel and tar roads. “Which way do you want to go?” Randy inquired.

The gravel road I did not want to follow.

The gravel road I did not want to follow.

I peered down the icy gravel road ahead and thought to myself, “not there.”

Too late. “There” proved to be precisely my spouse’s preferred route.

The half muddy, half icy road.

The half muddy, half icy road.

As the van slogged along the gravel road, marred by mud and ice, I muttered something about “not going in the ditch.”

Left (east) or right (west)?

Left (east) or right (west)?

Eventually we came to a T in the road. “Which way do you want to go?” my husband asked again.

Then he turned left.

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NOTE: All images have been edited because, well, I can do that to make this story more visually dramatic.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hello, God, it’s me March 1, 2014

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NEVER UNDERESTIMATE the power of prayer. Never.

Prayer provides a powerful personal portal to God. Consider that connection as immediate as a text message or a phone call away.

The thing about God, you won’t get his voice mail. He’s always listening. Twenty-four seven. He is, after all, our heavenly Father. And what parent wouldn’t love to hear from his/her child on a daily basis? Love works that way.

Yet, just like an earthly father, God doesn’t always give us what we want. Prayer doesn’t work that way. God responds in ways that he deems best. He really is a lot smarter than us.

Oftentimes that’s hard for someone like me, who desires to be in control and possesses minimal patience, to accept. I want the issue resolved yesterday, the direction given immediately, the prayer answered right now exactly as I prayed it.

I imagine God wonders sometimes if I will ever learn. I’m trying, God.

Prayer necklace

Recently I began carrying a medallion in my pocket to remind me of the need to always be prayerful. It’s really a necklace, minus the chain, a piece of jewelry I received during my childhood. I don’t recall who gifted this to me, but I’ve had it for nearly 50 years.

On the front side is an image of praying hands, on the back this inspirational prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Prayer necklace back

You likely know this as the Serenity Prayer adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous. I am not an alcoholic. But I am in need of serenity in my life. I tend to worry and stress about issues. Ask my husband.

I recognize that flaw. So this silver dollar sized medallion slipped inside my jean pocket reminds me daily that God is in control. This doesn’t mean I should sit idly and do nothing about certain situations. God doesn’t expect that. But rather, he needs me to understand that he is the one walking beside me through my days.

Oftentimes these days, I find myself sliding my right hand into my pocket, my fingertips brushing the outline of those prayerful hands, the imprint of the raised letters. A sense of peace fills me as my lips whisper a silent prayer.

Another window shows Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Even Jesus prayed, here in the Garden of Gethsemane. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

DEAR READERS, please join me today in praying for the families and friends of three Carleton College students who died in a car crash Friday afternoon at Minnesota Highway 3 and Dakota County Road 47 just outside of Northfield, three miles from campus.

The trio were killed and two other students seriously injured when their car apparently went out of control on an icy and snowy roadway and was broadsided by a semi, according to news reports.

Dead are James Adams of St. Paul, Minnesota; Michael Goodgame of Westport, Connecticut; and Paxton Harvieux of Stillwater, Minnesota. Hospitalized in stable condition in the Twin Cities are Conor Eckert of Seattle, Washington, and Will Sparks of Evanston, Illinois.

I cannot imagine the depth of grief felt by the families, friends, the Carleton College community and the community of Northfield.

A vigil is being held at 11 a.m. today at Skinner Memorial Chapel on the college campus with counseling staff and chaplains available. (Click here to read a message from the president and dean of students at Carleton.)

Please pray for peace, comfort and healing. Prayer provides a powerful personal portal to God. At all times, in all circumstances.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Transforming the winter landscape February 17, 2014

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LACKING COLOR; colorless.

White dominates the Minnesota landscape this time of year. I don’t need to tell you that if you live here. Just look outside right now. Snow. More snow today. Like me, you’ve probably had enough of winter.

It’s easy to become visually depressed, eye weary of the mostly colorless landscape. You yearn for pops of color to brighten this drab environment, to lift your spirits.

Via the magic of photo editing, I’ve transformed some rather ordinary winter scenes into works of art. Oz they’re not. But the simple act of manipulating these photos into watercolor or paint-by-number style images shifted my mood. I hope they do yours, too.

A ridge of plowed snow edges a country road near Montgomery, Minnesota.

A ridge of plowed and drifted snow edges a country road near Montgomery, Minnesota.

A farm site near Montgomery lost in a sea of snow.

A farm site near Montgomery in a sea of snow.

Love this sturdy barn, also near Montgomery.

Love this sturdy barn and silos, also near Montgomery.

Machinery, seemingly abandoned in the snow.

Machinery, snowed-in.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Defining Valentine’s Day love February 14, 2014

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Floral bouquet full

SIX DAYS BEFORE VALENTINE’S DAY, as I shoveled snow from the driveway for the umpteenth time, my husband arrived home from work, opened the front passenger side door of the Chrysler and presented me with flowers.

Have I told you how much I love this man?

Floral bouquet, really close-up

He knows me so well, enough to realize that at that moment, on that Saturday afternoon, I needed this bouquet bursting in brilliant spring colors of mostly sunshine yellow and sweet orchid.

I love when he gives me flowers for no particular reason except a realization that I “need” them.

Floral bouquet, close-up

Now some women might protest such a gift as an unnecessary expense. Not me. I will claim and celebrate and embrace this symbol of my husband’s thoughtfulness, love and care.

He needs to give these flowers as much as I need to receive them. I will not deny him this joy.

To each of you this Valentine’s Day, I wish you such moments of thoughtfulness and love. You deserve them, whether you are in a committed relationship or not. You do not need to be “in love” to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

A friend and I recently discussed the relationship pressures we as a society place on young people. Typically this begins after high school graduation, with “So how are the boys/girls?” I myself have asked this. I should know better because I, too, was subjected to such questioning 30-plus years ago. I married at nearly 26, considered “old” by 1982 standards, “young” by today’s.

Since that conversation, I’ve vowed not to knowingly place such pressure on others. Rather, I will focus on the individual, his/her interests and life. That is cause to celebrate. We are each our own person, whether in a romantic relationship or not.

This February 14, consider the broader definition of Valentine’s Day. It is not all about romance. It is also about the care and love between a child and a parent, friends, siblings, co-workers, neighbors…

It is, too, about loving and respecting ourselves as unique individuals created and loved by God.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In celebration of a daughter’s birthday February 10, 2014

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Amber and Marc. Photo by Minneapolis based Rochelle Louise Photography.

Amber and Marc on their wedding day in September 2013. Photo by Minneapolis based Rochelle Louise Photography.

SHE TURNS TWENTY-EIGHT today. My sweet girl.

She’s a child of God, a gift to me and her dad, and now to her husband.

Yes, this sweet woman, this new wife, this daughter of mine, who today celebrates her birthday, has blessed my life from the moment of her birth.

As my first-born, Amber showed me a depth of love I never could have fathomed. I love all three of my now adult children with a fierceness unequaled. You know, the Mama Bear and her cubs…

In this June 2011 photo, my daughter swings on a tire swing on my childhood farm.

In this June 2011 photo, my daughter sways on a tire swing on my childhood farm.

No matter how many children you have, the door to your heart swings open wider at the birth of each. And when Amber married the love of her life this past September, my heart, and that of my husband, opened even wider to embrace our new son-in-law.

To see our girl so happy, so incredibly in love as she enters another year of her life makes this mama happy.

I thank God every day for blessing me with my precious first-born daughter.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts on parenting as my son turns 20 February 9, 2014

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FOR 15 YEARS, I’ve been parenting teens.

Today that ends as my youngest, my son, turns 20.

Tomorrow his sister, my eldest, turns 28.

Like most parents, I wonder where the years have gone, how, snap, just like that, I’ve become an empty nester with three adult children. My other daughter is 21 months younger than her older sister.

At times, if I’m honest, I wished time would move faster, that the tantrums of a two-year-old, the sometime moodiness of a teen, would vanish.

I look back now and understand that this is all part of growing and of the parenting process. None of us—parents nor child—are perfect. But we stick together. We love and live and forgive and embrace and move forward.

Forward.

At age five, the son dressed as an elephant for Halloween. Today he attends Tufts University. The university mascot is Jumbo the elephant.

At age five, the son dressed as an elephant for Halloween. Today he attends Tufts University. The university mascot is Jumbo the elephant.

The son lives in Boston now, where he is studying for a computer science degree at Tufts University. I’m proud of the independent young man he’s become, focused on his future, working hard to get the most he can from his education.

He’s always been a self-starter when it comes to learning. He didn’t wait for teachers to teach him. As a grader schooler, my boy would check out books from the library to learn what he wasn’t learning in class. Later, when he got a laptop, he would also research online. Up until he entered college, he basically had taught himself everything he knows about computers and programming. At age 18, he formed his own company, Apocrypha, LLC.

My big baby boy, born 20 years ago today.

My big baby boy, born 20 years ago today.

Watching him grow has been interesting. He started life weighing 10 pounds, 12 ounces, by far the biggest baby in the hospital nursery. By 10 months, my boy was walking. He was into everything. Everything. Today he towers well over six feet and, I think, is still stretching. Or so it seems whenever he returns back to Minnesota, which isn’t often enough for me.

That’s the thing about parenting. When your baby is born, you have no idea that the sleepless nights, the two-year-old tantrums, the turbulent teens will not be the most difficult part of parenting. It is the letting go that proves especially challenging, the realization that this child you’ve loved and cherished and held close will leave you. I just didn’t expect my son to journey 1,300 miles away.

But it is at it’s supposed to be.

At times, I feel like I could have done better as a parent. Don’t we all.

The letting go began in the fall of 1999. By spring, the son had graduated from kindergarten.

The letting go began in the fall of 1999. By spring, the son had graduated from kindergarten.

Yet, there comes a realization and acceptance that you’ve done the best you can and you must let go. Not that you ever stop caring or loving or supporting or praying for or worrying about…

Today the days of parenting teens are behind me. And I’m good with that.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Formerly “the junkyard” January 28, 2014

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FENCES HEIGHTEN my curiosity. It is the unknown, the wondering what lies behind the barrier, the sense of mystery that intrigues me.

Yes, I read Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys growing up with mysteries still my preferred genre.

Hubers Auto Parts

In the above image, solid panels block the view of junked vehicles at Hubers Auto Parts west of Faribault.

Junkyards, as they were once commonly called, aren’t particularly pretty places. Heck, they aren’t really pretty at all unless you view the contents therein as art or in the context of recycling.

Through the years, these places have attempted to change their bad boy image. Auto parts sounds so much nicer than junkyard, although junkyard possesses a certain romantic ring.

A scene from another Faribault area "junkyard." Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

A scene from another Faribault area “junkyard.” Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2009.

Still, even words cannot diminish the visuals of crushed cars, cracked windshields, smashed doors and the reality that many of these vehicles arrived here with some tragic story.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Seeking solace on a drive through rural Rice County January 21, 2014

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The rural scene unfolds before us.

The rural scene, dominated by a blue sky, unfolds before us.

BLUE SKY STRETCHES before my husband and me as we traverse back gravel roads northwest of Faribault Sunday afternoon.

A drive along country gravel roads always uplifts me, no matter the season.

A drive along country gravel roads always uplifts me, no matter the season.

I yearn for this escape, for this reconnection to the land, this attempt to rejuvenate my spirit.

This scene

This scene inspires the poet in me.

Just being in the country calms my soul, brightens my outlook, causes me to pause and appreciate this land, this place God has created and given into our care.

Memories in this scene...

Memories in this scene…

In this moment, at this time, I slip into the past, envision myself laboring in the barns we pass. Soothing thrum of the milking machine. Cocooning warmth among cows snugged in mounds of golden straw. The comfort of ‘CCO radio.

I envision these fields seeded in corn or soybeans.

I envision these fields seeded in corn or soybeans.

In farm fields, I see a much younger and skinnier version of myself plodding between rows of soybeans to yank cockleburs on a scorching summer day.

The comfort of memories in a farm yard.

The comfort of memories in a farm yard.

At the sight of a farmyard, I hear my buckle overshoes crunch upon hard-packed snow as I follow the path from house to barn.

I imagine this field seeded in corn or soybeans.

An ocean of snow-washed land.

Memories unleash in this landscape, in the view of farmyards anchored into hillsides within an ocean of snow-washed fields.

A remnant of yesteryear in an old corn crib.

A remnant of yesteryear in an old corn crib.

I am happy here. Content. At peace.

Splashes of red jolt the blue and white landscape.

Splashes of red jolt the blue and white landscape.

Yes, even in this winter of too much cold and too many snowy days, I find solace in blue skies and sunshine, barns and white-washed fields.

The punctuation of a red wagon and its shadow stretching across the snow draw my attention.

The punctuation of a red wagon and its shadow stretching across the snow draw my attention.

FYI: To read my previous post featuring photos from this Sunday afternoon drive, click here.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Family love knows no distance January 15, 2014

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File photo, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

File photo, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. The son flies Southwest, not Delta.

TUESDAY, 6:39 a.m. and I’ve just arrived home from the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport after a slow drive there on treacherous, snow-packed roads with my husband and son. The 19-year-old is on his way to Boston, back to college.

Wednesday, 6:00 a.m. and he is in Medford, Massachusetts, now, settled into his dorm, about to start his second semester at Tuft’s University.

And I am a sad mama. I go through this every time my son or my daughter, who lives 300 miles away in northeastern Wisconsin, leaves. I cannot help it. I love having my “kids,” who are not at all “kids” anymore, home. Given the distance two of them live from Minnesota, I don’t see them as often as I would like.

The son, left, the eldest, the son-in-law and the second eldest daughter.

The son, left, the eldest and her husband, and the second eldest daughter after I snapped “posed” photos when we were last together. I actually prefer this image to the perfectly posed shots given the love and affection it reveals.

We—the husband, the eldest daughter and her husband (who live in the metro), the middle daughter and the son—were all together the Friday evening before Christmas to celebrate the holidays. For that I am grateful. I treasure these times we have as a family. Many families are spread far and wide across this country and world and see each other less often than we do each other.

But when my son left this time, it was different. He’s accepted a summer internship in Boston. I don’t know when he will return to Minnesota. Over spring break? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on his plans and the cost of a flight.

That is the reality of mothering—this separation.

Yet, distance and separation do not limit love. And for that I am grateful.

HOW DO YOU COPE with long distance separation from family? And how do you stay connected?

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling