Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Forever rooted to rural Minnesota September 13, 2013

Rural, barn and bins

RURAL MINNESOTA LONG AGO claimed my heart. It is the place where I grew up, the land I love, the connection to earth and sky and elements that, despite more than three decades of living in town, has never vanished.

Rural, roof collapsing

I’m rooted to the land and I find myself often longing to turn onto the gravel driveway, to swing open the creaky barn door, to follow the corn rows.

Rural, barn with windmill

I ache for the days when I lived on the farm. Sunset and sunrise unbroken by buildings. Wind rustling. The heady scent of freshly-mown alfalfa. The rich earthy smell of the land at planting time and harvest. Wagons brimming with corn. Quiet. Stars studding the blackness.

Rural, barn quilt

Today I still claim rural Minnesota—in my memory, through the lens of my camera, in the words I write. And that is my solace, the road I follow back home.

FYI: These edited photos were taken earlier this summer in the Vernon Center/Amboy/Truman area of southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Autumn on my doorstep September 12, 2013

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The first maple leaf to fall on my back doorstep.

The first maple leaf to fall on my back doorstep.

I DID NOT STAGE this photo. I noted this single maple leaf on the steps leading to my back door (ignore the need for paint there on the bottom wood trim) and the phrase, “autumn on my doorstep” popped into my brain.

I grabbed my camera and, walla, my first post about autumn. Typically I would be thrilled that autumn is sneaking into southern Minnesota. It is my favorite season with cooler temps, crisp air and stunning hues.

But this year, because of our incredibly long winter with a foot of snow on May 2 (I’m not making this up; click here) followed by a cold and rainy month of June, I was not ready for this arrival of fall. I want more summer with longer days and lazy afternoons and not even the remotest thought of snow.

With a little photo editing, I transformed that leaf on my back steps in to hues we can expect to see in a few weeks, maybe less. Have you noticed the tinge of yellow and orange in the trees here in Minnesota?

With a little photo editing, I transformed that leaf on my back steps in to hues we can expect to see in a few weeks, maybe less. Have you noticed the tinge of yellow and orange in the trees here in Minnesota? Or wherever you live?

I’ve lived here 57 years now. I should know better. This is Minnesota. Unpredictable. Weather always changing. Autumn knocking on my door. Should I let her in?

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering 9/11 from a mom’s perspective September 11, 2013

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I reconstructed a tower using the same blocks my son and his friend used on September 11, 2001, to duplicate what they saw on television. These are also the same airplanes they flew into the tower.

I reconstructed a tower using the same blocks my son and his friend used on September 11, 2001, to duplicate what they saw on television. These are also the same airplanes they flew into the tower. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

THEY REPEATED THE ACTION: Build the towers. Fly the planes. Smash the towers. Build. Fly. Smash.

A dozen years ago today my then seven-year-old son, Caleb, not feeling well and home from school, played with his friend Sam.

I have never forgotten that scene unfolding on my living room floor. Two boys imitating what they saw on television. Me, shocked, unable to turn off the TV and shield them from the horrors of an attack on America.

What do you remember, from a personal perspective, of that day 12 years ago when so many innocent people lost their lives in the terrorist attacks on our country? What were you thinking? How did you feel?

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Flowers from Steve September 9, 2013

Twiehoff Gardens along St. Paul Road in Faribault offers an abundance of fresh produce.

Twiehoff Gardens along St. Paul Road in Faribault offers an abundance of fresh produce. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY GLADS?” I asked Steve Twiehoff after my husband and I selected fresh baby red potatoes, green beans and a bag of northern Minnesota grown wild rice at Twiehoff Gardens on Faribault’s east side Sunday afternoon.

“I stopped cutting them,” Steve answered. “The deer were eating them.”

Old-fashioned gladiolus have been a mainstay at Twiehoff Gardens for decades.

Old-fashioned gladioli have been a mainstay at Twiehoff Gardens for decades. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

I must have looked disappointed or sighed because he told me then and there that I could head out to the field and cut whatever gladioli I wanted—three for $1.

“Where?”

He pointed toward the slim opening in the pole shed doors, past the onions and gourds and pumpkins piled on a trailer, then outside and across the gravel parking lot and up the hill.

This is as close as I got to the glads, standing along the shoulder of the road photographing them.

Gladioli grow in a field near Utica in Winona County. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

“I’ll be back,” I said accepting the clippers this vegetable farmer handed to me. I aimed for the field that held glads, flowers rooted deep in my memory. I can still see the rows of gladioli rising above the greenery of the vegetable garden, splashing pinks and yellow, but mostly orangish red, across the land. My mom’s one small spot of beauty upon soil otherwise designated mostly for crops to feed the family and the livestock.

Steve knew none of this when he gave me the clippers.

But as I worked my way across the uneven and weedy patch of abandoned vegetable and flower garden in my flip flops, I thought of my mom and of her gladioli and how each fall she dug those bulbs—and later I did, too—to winter over in the cellar, to replant in the spring.

The three stems of gladiolus I snipped in Steve's garden.

The three stems of gladiolus I snipped in Steve’s garden.

I snipped three stems of pink blossoms from Steve’s garden, the only trio that appeared salvageable.

Clippers and blooms clutched in my hand, I aimed back for the pole shed to give Steve my dollar.

I laid the flowers on the counter and reached to unclasp my purse. “You can have them,” he said.

I stopped, looked at him. “Are you sure?”

He was.

“Thank you. That is so sweet.”

I picked up the stems. A smile touched my lips. I strode past the onions and gourds and pumpkins piled on the trailer, slipped through the slim opening between the pole shed doors, climbed into the van and considered how Steve had touched my heart with his thoughtfulness and kindness.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A photo essay: Life on a Saturday in southern Minnesota September 8, 2013

IF EVER I DOUBT carting my camera with me nearly everywhere, I need only consider the photos I snapped on Saturday in rural Minnesota. The images show snippets of everyday life, of moments and places that seem not extraordinary at first pause, but which are extraordinary for the stories they tell. This is life.  These are the moments of our days, the Main Streets of our towns, the way we live.

And I delight in all of it, in this place I call home, this southern Minnesota.

Mid-morning Saturday, while I was watering my flowers, a mini tractorcade puttered past my Faribault home. By the time I realized what I was seeing and retrieved my camera from my office, I

Mid-morning Saturday, while watering flowers, a mini tractorcade puttered past my Faribault home. By the time I realized what I was seeing and retrieved my camera from my office, I was able to photograph only the tail end of the line. Lesson learned: Grab my Canon before going outside to water flowers.

Over in Owatonna in the afternoon, I shot this signage in the heart of downtown. Walt the Barber. I expect he could spin a story or ten.

Over in Owatonna in the afternoon, I shot this signage in the heart of downtown. Walt the Barber. I expect he could spin a story or ten.

Perhaps Owatonna's best-known historic building,

Perhaps Owatonna’s best-known historic building, the old National Farmer’s Bank Building, considered by some to be “the most beautiful bank in the world.” I’ve toured it previously and can vouch for the accuracy of that description. Chicago architect, Louis Sullivan, designed the bank, built in 1908. It’s a must-see.

On the opposite side of the street from the bank, I spotted this cooler of fresh sweetcorn outside of Party-Plus of Owatonna.

On the opposite side of the street from the bank, I spotted this sign in the front window and this cooler of fresh sweetcorn outside of Party-Plus of Owatonna. My husband had already purchased sweetcorn earlier in the day for more money, so we didn’t need any. If you’re looking for anything party related, this store offers a great inventory of products.

I stopped at family-owned Owatonna Shoe and snapped 40 photos, the best of which I will share in a later post. For now you'll have to settle for this exterior shot.

I stopped at family-owned Owatonna Shoe and snapped 40 photos, the best of which I will share in a later post. For now you’ll have to settle for this exterior shot with that delightful OPEN TODAY til 5:00 postscript. I’ll also feature photos from “Steele County: Butter Capitol of the World,” an exhibit at the Steele County History Center and my reason for visiting Owatonna on Saturday.

I love beautiful historic architecture. Driving by Kristi's Clothing in downtown Owatonna, I zipped down the window and shot this image of one splendid detailed building.

I love beautiful, historic architecture. Driving by Kristi’s Clothing in downtown Owatonna, I zipped down the window and shot this image of one stunning building. Look at that sweet balcony and the detailed art.

Instead of bar hopping, this bridal party stopped at an Owatonna ice cream shop for sweet treats. I captured this scene as my husband and I were leaving the downtown area.

Instead of bar hopping, this bridal party stopped at an ice cream shoppe. I captured this scene as my husband and I were leaving downtown Owatonna and heading back to Faribault via County Road 45. No Interstate 35 for us due to road construction.

The Congregational United Church of Christ posted this sign on its message board along the main drag through Medford.

The Congregational United Church of Christ posted this message in the heart of Medford. I love these faith-based messages because they always cause me to reflect. Mini sermons, I call them.

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Why my blood pressure is rising September 7, 2013

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I live on one of Faribault's busiest residential streets, also a main route for the ambulance which is based near my home.

My Faribault home sits along an arterial street, also a main route for the local ambulance service. Here the ambulance passes by a neighbor’s house. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

ON THE SAME DAY last week when I received my $1,362 bill for three months of health insurance coverage, I also got a letter about health care reform from my insurance carrier.

And I am not happy. Not happy at all.

In a box under “What you should know,” I read this:

Your health plan will continue to be offered with no change in benefits, but may have higher premiums because of increases in the cost and use of medical care.

Great. I already pay $454 a month for coverage and seldom see a doctor. And now I’ll likely spend more for no more.

I cannot afford higher premiums, especially for a plan with a $3,000 deductible and benefits that, to be frank, can be considered only of value should I need major medical care. Yes, I’ve shopped for other insurance but because I have a pre-existing condition—an artificial hip which will need replacing in 10 – 15 years—I couldn’t find a plan to cover that.

The letter informs me that my long-time plan is grandfathered in and thus not covered by health care reform. Never mind that; I’ll still be charged more for nothing new.

That was made quite clear to me again a few lines later:

Rates for most plans will increase. That’s because the overall use of health care services is increasing, and the cost for health care services, such as hospital and physician visits, also continues to rise.

Last year my family paid nearly $9,000 in health insurance premiums for three adults. I know already that the cost will be at least $10,000 this year as the 19-year-old’s premiums (under a different plan through the college he attends) have doubled. My husband and I also each saw increases in our premiums from 2012.

Craziness, I say. Pure craziness to spend that much money on health insurance premiums.

I plan to muddle through Mnsure, the new online marketplace for health insurance. I bet that will be a barrel of fun.

Did I mention that I dislike wading through health insurance info as much as I dislike doing taxes and completing the Free Application for Federal Student Aid? I don’t like numbers. I don’t like forms. I don’t like sorting through complicated information.

Speaking of choices, I don’t understand why some Minnesotans will have up to five insurance companies offering coverage in their counties through Mnsure, while others will have only two available in their counties of residence. Explain that one. In my county of Rice, I will have three choices. I was expecting way more insurance company options, like maybe twenty. Competition tends to drive down prices. Right?

If I sound a little worked up, I am. I’m just tired of the ever-rising cost of health insurance and health care. How about you? Now it’s your turn. Go ahead. Tell me what you think of health care reform, health insurance premiums and the cost of health care.

FYI: Click here to read a special MPR report on Mnsure.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Violent crime that’s way too close to home, my home September 4, 2013

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Central Avenue in downtown Faribault. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Central Avenue in downtown Faribault. In the residential area of Central, blocks from the downtown, a troubling crime recently occurred. Yes, I feel safe in downtown Faribault.  Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

I DEBATED WHETHER I should write about this. But my writing roots lie in journalism. And I can’t ignore hard news, especially hard news within my neighborhood.

This is the type of news you never want to read about in your community. Drive-by shootings. Yes, three. In Faribault. In an 11-block area. In six days. One two blocks from my house. All apparently connected, based on evidence collected at the scenes.

No one was struck in the shootings at homes along Willow Street (my street) and in the 900 block of Central Avenue and also at the Kwik Trip East convenience store.

At this point, the Faribault Police Department has formed a task force to address the crimes and Police Chief Andy Bohlen, in a news release, stated that “This type of violent crime is particularly alarming and we need this dangerous person (s) identified and taken into custody as soon as possible.”

I couldn’t agree more. You can read the entire news release by clicking here to reach the Faribault Police Department Facebook page and an August 30 posting.

At this point, I’m surprisingly not as rattled as I thought I would, or maybe should, be. My attitude bothers me. I should be outraged that someone is shooting at houses where children live. I should be worried that one house is only two blocks from mine, right next to the spot where my son once boarded his school bus. I should be concerned that bullets were fired into the convenience store where my family buys gas and the occasional groceries.

What is wrong with me that I feel only troubled and unsettled, but not outraged? Have I become too accustomed to violent crime?

ANYONE WITH INFORMATION about the drive-by shootings should contact the Faribault Police Department at (507) 334-4305 or the tipline at (507) 334-0999.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oddities & art at a rural Minnesota flea market September 3, 2013

WHENEVER I SHOP a flea market with my camera, I challenge myself to find and photograph items that rate as unique, odd, artistic. I consider shapes and fonts, weirdness and, really, anything unusual that catches my eye.

Sunday afternoon browsing the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show Flea Market in rural Dundas provided plenty of subject matter.

Here are my top picks for flea market art and oddities, starting with the weirdest, a trio of doll heads in a colander:

Kind of creepy if you ask me.

Kind of creepy if you ask me.

The same vendor, Lou of Mantiques LLC (gotta appreciate that creative name), also offered another odd item, a child’s coffin, for sale. It drew my interest in that unsettled sort of way when you’re curious enough to ask but are uncertain you want to hear the story.

A child's coffin.

A child’s coffin.

According to Lou, who speaks with a thick accent even after 18 years away from Boston, during the diphtheria epidemic parents built coffins in advance, storing the boxes in barns in anticipation of their children’s deaths. Sad. Just plain sad. The coffin Lou was selling has never, obviously, been used but was passed down through the generations. Not in his family; some other. I can’t imagine anyone buying this coffin, but…

Michniewicz Sales presents "Quality Lawn Ornaments" made in the USA.

Michniewicz Sales presents “Quality Lawn Ornaments” made in the USA, in living color.

To balance the melancholy of that story, let me show you a sampling of Bob Michniewicz’ kitschy lawn ornaments. I first met Bob a year ago at the same flea market, photographed and blogged about him (click here to read that post). He was happy to see me again as, apparently, the publicity I gave him last September resulted in the sale of 10 cow lawn ornaments. Bob extended an open invitation to photograph his art anytime I please.

Tool and/or art, you decide.

Tools and/or art, you decide.

Now not all vendors are likely aware that they’ve created art. Or perhaps the art unfolds in the eyes of the beholder. While most flea market shoppers would see open end wrenches, dies, a brush and a turnbuckle hook when viewing these tools, I see something more—a collage.

Historic art.

Historic art.

Ditto for community celebration and homecoming buttons. These are mini pieces of historic art. Mini, however, would not describe the Albert Lea Tigers’ “Stomp the Packers” (as in Austin, not Green Bay) homecoming button. That button is the size of a dessert plate. Wowza.

A vendor's "trailer."

A vendor’s “trailer.”

Finally, my camera lens landed on a vintage Winnebago camper because, yes, sometimes even a camper converted into a flea market merchandise hauler can be a work of art in angled lines and graphics.

There you have it. My top picks from this year’s flea market.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Packing his bags for Boston August 28, 2013

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HE FLEW INTO MINNESOTA from Washington state, arriving at Bethany Lutheran College in Mankato, Minnesota, with a suitcase and a clock.

His roommate came with an entourage of family and a car filled with belongings.

My friend Dave (not his real name) remembers the moment well. The roommate with all the stuff. And the roommate’s dad who surveyed the dorm room, then locked eyes on that alarm clock.

“Nice clock,” he complimented Dave, who, decades later, laughs about the comment.

My friend’s story pops into my mind as I consider my 19-year-old son’s departure early this morning for Medford, Massachusetts (near Boston), where he’s accepted transfer student admittance to Tufts University.

Will he feel like Dave, the odd man out, arriving via plane with two suitcases, a carry-on bag and his pillow?

The son poses after packing his belongings in his NDSU dorm room in May.

The son poses for a photo after packing his belongings in his North Dakota State University dorm room in May.

After minimal discussion, our family decided that, given the price of gas, food and lodging, it would not be cost effective for us to pack the son’s stuff into our van and drive east 1,400 miles to Medford and then back next spring.

I won’t miss the moving in and out of dorms that I expected would be a part of our lives for the next several years. My husband and I have done that already with our daughters, long graduated from college.

Only ?? miles to Fargo. We've already driven

On the road to Fargo.

And I definitely won’t miss the long road trips along Interstate 94 to Fargo, where our youngest attended North Dakota State University for a year, or the worry about blizzards and closed interstates.

But I will miss seeing my son settled in and the ability to visualize him in his dorm room or anywhere on the Tufts campus. There is a certain sense of security for a mother in both.

Yet, this is not about me. This is about my son, his education, his need to feel challenged, his happiness and his future. The opportunity to attend a noted and respected research university like Tufts, which offers admission to only 50 – 100 transfer student applicants per year, is huge.

The debt load that our boy will bear, however, also will be huge (compared to NDSU), even with a substantial and outstanding financial aid package. Without that needs-based funding, he couldn’t attend Tufts; we are grateful. Still, I worry about how he/we will come up with our expected family contribution toward his education. The annual cost to attend Tufts exceeds our family’s annual gross income.

My youngest brother, a successful Twin Cities attorney, tells me not to worry, that my computer engineering major son will earn good money upon graduation. I expect he’s right. Already the 19-year-old’s base hourly wage at a summer internship was higher than his dad’s base wage after more than 30 years as an automotive machinist. And everything I’ve read points to continued demand for computer engineers in jobs that pay well.

While at NDSU, my son worked and volunteered in the Technology Incubator as part of an Entrepreneurial Scholarship. He is walking away from two major scholarships at NDSU to attend Tufts University.

While at NDSU, my son worked and volunteered in the Technology Incubator as part of an Entrepreneurial Scholarship. He is walking away from two major scholarships at NDSU to attend Tufts University. This summer he lived in Rochester and worked for IBM. His work experience at both places have been great opportunities to grow and learn and build connections for his future.

If anything, I know my son is driven to learn and succeed. He’s already proven that via his academic, computer programming and gaming successes, and his experiences working for two technology companies and more.

But, still, he’s only 19 and my boy, setting off alone for Boston with his bags. And an alarm clock in his smart phone.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Creative parenting: Let the painting & mud slinging begin August 26, 2013

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The kids, Braxton, left, Jack and Nevaeh, were thrilled to paint blocks, unlike me.

The kids, Braxton, left, Jack and Nevaeh, were thrilled to paint blocks, unlike me.

I SWEAR SHE would have locked me in the basement.

The sheetrock wall canvas.

The sheetrock wall canvas.

Billie Jo, a former preschool teacher and the mother of two school-aged youngsters, insisted. “You need to paint a brick, Audrey.” She emphasized “Audrey.”

The paint comes from the county recycling center.

The paint comes from the county recycling center.

There was no wiggling my way out of her demand, even if my friend was preoccupied with opening paint cans, stirring paint, handing out brushes, washing kids’ hands and wiping paint spills from the concrete basement floor.

See, I really was busy taking photos, here of Hannah. She's quite the artist who not only paints, but also sews. Plus, she writes poetry.

See, I really was busy taking photos, here of Hannah. She’s quite the artist who not only paints, but also sews. Plus, she writes poetry. Oh, and she made that pony tail holder in her hair.

feet

Painting in bare feet.

Jack creating his masterpiece.

Jack creating his masterpiece.

My excuse of “I’m busy taking pictures” wasn’t sliding by Billie Jo. Nope.

My, ahem, masterpiece.

My, ahem, masterpiece.

So, eventually, I set down my camera and picked up paintbrushes to paint a clutch of lilac hued flowers, my name and the year onto an orange brick painted upon a sheetrock wall. I’ve never pretended to be an artist, except perhaps in photography.

Where the project started, on the cement walls.

Where the project started, on the cement walls.

Prior to the sheetrock dividing wall construction, visitors to Billie Jo and Neal’s south Faribault home created art (a record of their visits) on a cement block wall in a corner of the basement. That area is now covered by totes in a storage room stocked full of board games, art supplies and more.

“Garage sales are great,” Neal says.

Braxton, in near constant motion, took time to paint.

Braxton, in near constant motion, took time to paint.

And so are he and Billie Jo and their kids, Nevaeh (heaven spelled backwards) and Braxton.

They are loving and kind and fabulous and generous and in the paperwork process of adopting, hopefully, two children from Colombia. These will be blessed children to join this fun-loving family. (International adoptions are costly, so if you wish to donate to the cause, email me personally or at audrey at mnprairieroots.com)

I love how they parent, reminding me of bygone times. They have no television, instead choosing board games and crafts and bike rides and storytime at the library and such to define their family togetherness.

My friends stretched a wood plank between their deck and an outdoor play cube for the kids to jump and run and do whatever kids’ imaginations tell them to do. The plank was added when Braxton was in his pirate phase.

Fun times at Billie Jo and Neal's mud party.

Fun times  for Hannah at Billie Jo and Neal’s mud party. The event included mixing of “potions” at the picnic table. Photo courtesy of Billie Jo.

Recently, they hosted a mud party, as in purchasing black dirt, shoveling it into a kids’ swimming pool, mixing in water and letting Nevaeh and Braxton and friends muck around.

Billie Jo tells me that clean-up lasted longer than the party. Here Braxton and Nevaeh pose. Photo courtesy of Billie Jo.

Billie Jo tells me that clean-up lasted longer than the party. Here Braxton and Nevaeh pose. Photo courtesy of Billie Jo.

If I hadn’t been out of town, I would have been there photographing the event. But, if Billie Jo had insisted I join the fun…

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling