A display window at Keepers Antiques along Central Avenue in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
PHOTOGRAPHING SCENES behind glass often proves challenging. First, you need to watch for your own reflection so as not to photograph yourself. And then there are all the other reflections playing upon the glass.
I faced those obstacles while photographing a valentine themed window display with my cellphone outside Keepers Antiques in historic downtown Faribault recently. I tried my best, waiting for vehicles to pass, angling myself out of the photo, working to frame the scene. Yet, even with all that finagling, the results were not outstanding. Or so I thought.
When I viewed the images on my computer, I was pleasantly surprised to notice unseen details in the overall window display image. That prompted thoughts of the popular “I Spy” photo-based picture books for kids. Readers need to find specific items in each photographed scene.
With historic buildings across the street reflecting in the antique shop window, it appears that two faces are peering from second floor windows on the far left and to the right. Love that ghostly visual. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
In the collage of antiques and collectibles Nona Boyes creatively placed in the window of her antique shop, I saw the makings of an “I Spy” book. (Study the first image in this post.) I spy a doll in a checked dress. I spy a red telephone. I spy a stop sign. I spy faces in windows. I spy a red ironing board. I spy a chandelier. I spy two candy boxes. I spy a valentine in a shoe. I spy a fleur de lis, the symbol of my community. What do you spy?
Shirley Temple dolls times three. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
What you won’t spy in the overview window display are three 1970s vintage Shirley Temple Ideal dolls. They were there, just not in the section I initially framed. I photographed them separately. In the doll portraits, I spy a red brooch. Do you? I spy, too, one white shoe with a red bow. I spy the word “beverages.”
Those I spy candy boxes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
And I spy in the all of this an opportunity to turn a photo challenge into something interesting as only a photographer and writer can do. Through my creative lens, I saw pages in an “I Spy” book unfolding before me.
The traditional valentine bouquet, red roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
AHEAD OF US ON THE SIDEWALK, two young men, both on rollerblades, paused. As Randy and I drew nearer, I noticed one holding a bundle of wrapped flowers. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, for me! Thank you!” I exclaimed, stretching my arms as if to take the bouquet. They laughed.
It was one of those chance encounters that proved delightfully fitting on the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. Randy and I were out for an afternoon walk on the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf when we met the teens. The state campus is often used as a pathway by students from Shattuck-St. Mary’s, a private college prep school in Faribault. MSAD sits between Shattuck’s upper and lower campuses.
Given their rollerblades, I figured the two were hockey players at Shattuck. They confirmed that. And they confirmed that the flowers were for a girlfriend. “He’s in love,” the Minnesotan said of his Canadian roommate. I smiled, happy to witness this gentle ribbing, this evidence of young love. Oh, to be sixteen again and feeling madly in love.
Another valentine tradition, assorted chocolates in a heart-shaped box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Love. While we romanticize love on Valentine’s Day with flowers and chocolate and cards and dinner out, it is so much more than romanticism. Ask anyone who’s older and who has been in a relationship for awhile. Like me. Love is listening and caring and kindness and simply being there in the quiet of each other’s company. It’s supporting one another through challenging days and celebrating together in the good times. Or simply enjoying the ordinary days, which comprise the bulk of life.
And love in February is two 16-year-old hockey players skating along the sidewalk, one cradling wrapped flowers for a girl.
I received this handcrafted valentine in the mail from my friend Beth Ann. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
I adore this valentine crafted by Jack, Amelia and Ben and mailed to me from northwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Valentine chalk heart in the window of Keeper’s Antiques in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Valentine love, for me, is also handmade valentines in the mail, vintage valentines from my mom’s collection and window displays themed to February 14. It is childhood memories of shoeboxes crafted into valentine receptacles, boxes of candy conversation hearts and Juicy Fruit gum taped to red hearts. It is my 5-year-old grandson’s homemade paper valentine heart stuck to the front of my fridge.
My son crafted this cloth valentine 25 years ago in kindergarten. I hang it on my door every Valentine’s Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Valentine’s Day brings loving thoughts of family (including my husband of nearly 42 years) and friends. February 14 is truly a day that stretches beyond romantic love. I sincerely hope individuals who are not in romantic relationships feel included. Love is universal. Love hugs all of humanity.
One of my favorite valentines, because of its theme, among my mom’s vintage valentines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
I love the vibe of Valentine’s Day, a day when our thoughts focus on a world full of love in a world too often filled with hatred. On this singular day, we can intentionally choose to exude positivity. We can choose to forgive and focus on that which connects, rather than divides, us. We can choose to listen and encourage and use only generously kind words. We can choose to skate along the sidewalk like 16-year-olds intent on delivering bouquets of happiness. And we can choose, too, to stop, stretch our arms toward those flowers and engage in conversation with individuals we meet in the everyday moments of life. We will all be the richer for having connected, for showing love to one another on Valentine’s Day and well beyond February 14.
Vintage valentines from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
AT THE RISK of sounding old, which, by the way, I sort of am, I remember Valentine’s Day back-in-the-day, meaning the 1960s.
I remember bringing a shoebox to Vesta Elementary School, covering the box with white paper, cutting a slit in the lid (the teacher helped) and then pasting red construction paper hearts onto the wrapped box. Whew, that was one long sentence. If I didn’t have a shoebox, I crafted a mega envelope from white paper, decorated it with paper hearts and then taped the valentine holder onto the edge of my desk. Either way, I had a vessel to hold valentines.
I carefully picked the valentines I gave to each classmate. This is from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
On the day of our Valentine’s party, I arrived at school with cards carefully chosen for each classmate. These were not Disney-themed valentines pulled from a box, but rather generic, often flowery, cards punched from an over-sized book. It took effort to remove those cards. But it took even more effort to choose just the right one for each classmate.
An “I love you” valentine heart crafted for me by one of my children (I think my son) in elementary school. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Words mattered to me even back then. I didn’t want anyone, especially the boys, to misinterpret messages printed on a valentine. That applied to those chalky candy conversation hearts also. There would be no “Be mine” or “True love” for boys I found disgusting. And, no, I did not gift an entire box of those hearts to anyone. I came from a poor farm family. Several candy hearts tucked inside an envelope or a single stick of Juicy Fruit gum taped to a card was the treat limit.
Stencils and colored paper for crafting cards. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Those sweet memories of Valentine’s days past remain. But now I’m making new memories. With my grandchildren. On a recent Saturday morning I baked carrot cupcakes, mixed up a batch of cream cheese frosting, gathered construction paper, stencils and foam hearts, and checked valentine-themed books out from the library. Randy and I were headed to see the grandkids and I had projects planned.
Isaac in non-stop motion racing his truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
But first we played, the kids racing over-sized vehicles across the floor, round and round the table and through the house with the expectation that Grandma would do the same and I did for awhile with a toy airplane, which conveniently took flight. But then I needed a break. A break meant decorating those healthy cupcakes I baked, the healthy being the 1 ½ cups of shredded carrots (never mind the cup of sugar in the batter and then an additional cup in the homemade frosting).
Isaac with one of the cupcakes he frosted and sprinkled.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Heart-shaped toppings for the cupcakes from my daughter’s stash. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
The cupcake in the center is minus about half the sugar Isaac dumped onto it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Wiping crumbs and frosting from Isaac’s face. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Frosting and decorating cupcakes hold universal appeal for kids. Grandpa and I tag teamed with him assigned to 3-year-old Isaac and me to 5-year-old Isabelle. All went seemingly well with the usual admonition not to lick the knife, then wash the knife and repeat. But then I handed a slim bottle of sparkly pink sugar to Isaac, who tipped the bottle, and, well, you can guess what happened. He dumped enough sugar atop that single cupcake to decorate a dozen. What could we do except laugh, dump most of the sugar off and continue on. Eventually the cupcakes were all decorated and one each eaten.
We played with Owlette and Catboy from the Disney Junior show “PJ Masks.” I had no clue who these characters were prior to playtime. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
We took a break for more play, this time climbing up Mystery Mountain (stairs) to the Splat Volcano (Isaac’s room), where I got my feet stuck in splat, not to be confused with lava. The kids pulled me free. Good thing because there were valentines to craft. Except we never got to the valentines. I thought it more important for the siblings to create birthday cards for their mom, whose birthday is shortly before Valentine’s Day.
I brought a bag plumped with foam heart stickers for the grandkids to use in creating cards. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Again, I supervised Izzy while Randy helped Isaac. I got the easy job as Isabelle is a kindergartner, meaning she can sit quietly and create, managing a pencil and markers and stencils just fine, thank you. She finished her mom’s birthday card long before her brother. Isaac was quite taken with the foam heart stickers I brought. Hearts in hues of pink and purple. He’d stick one on the orange construction paper folded into a card and then stick on another. And another. And another. No valentines were ever made. But if foam hearts can convey love, then my daughter Amber ought to know her son loves her lots.
Stickers galore decorate the birthday card Isaac made for his mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
So these are my latest Valentine’s Day memories. Not of candy conversation hearts or heart-covered shoeboxes or fixating on valentine choices, but rather memories of time with my beloved grandchildren. Such sweetness in those love-filled moments…
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TELL ME: I’d like to hear your Valentine’s Day stories, past and/or present.
Valentine’s Day weekend weather warnings for southern Minnesota.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY from southern Minnesota, where my thoughts today focus more on the brutally cold weather than on this day of love. The weather monitor atop the fridge early this morning showed minus 18 degrees outside our Faribault home. That’s air temp. Factor in windchill, and it feels even colder.
The windchill warning on my phone yesterday.
Minnesota remains in a windchill warning with windchills of 35-50 degrees below zero. That’s biting cold. Dangerous cold. Exposed skin can freeze in a matter of minutes cold. Nothing to mess with cold.
Friends mailed this handcrafted valentine from northwestern Minnesota, where the temps and windchills are even colder than here in Faribault. I love this valentine. So thoughtful. So lovely.
If you’ve never experienced cold like this, trust me when I say I can feel the cold filtering from outdoors through the walls and windows after endless days of this frigid weather. Ice films the upstairs windows. If I pull away the rag rug positioned at the bottom of the front door to block air leaks, I’ll find a line of frost. The furnace is working overtime. Water from the kitchen faucet gushes ice cold. I’ve partially opened the cupboard door so heat can flow toward the vulnerable water pipes. No one wants pipes freezing, furnaces stopping or vehicles breaking down.
A valentine’s heart crafted decades ago by my kindergarten son from fabric and paint and, oh, so dear to me.
We postponed a weekend trip to visit our son, daughter and son-in-law in Madison, Wisconsin, because of the weather. We didn’t want to risk our van breaking down during that four-hour drive. Not that it would, but things happen.
Art from the grandchildren, given to us last weekend as an early Valentine’s Day gift. Their art adorns our fridge.
A weather alert banners the front page of Saturday’s Faribault Daily News.
Today’s high temp here in southern Minnesota is expected to reach only minus eight degrees. Tomorrow? Minus three.
Vintage valentines from my mom’s collection and displayed on a dining room shelf in my home.
I have no intention of going outside. Instead, I’ll write, read, enjoy a delicious valentine’s meal of tuna steak and veggies, and a glass of wine, with Randy. And I’ll think of those I love—the family I miss, friends who are dear—and summer days of green grass and flowers and the wind blowing warm breezes.
This fabric heart, crafted by one of my children in elementary school, hangs on my back door.
AS A TEEN, I clippedLove is… cartoons from the newspaper and tacked them onto my bright yellow smiley face bulletin board in my lime green and partially paneled basement bedroom with the candy stripe carpet. I found the cutesy cartoon created by Kim Casali dreamy in the context of a dreamy teen.
I have several vintage valentines from my mom’s collection and have displayed them for Valentine’s Day.
Above my twin bed, I also taped a black-and-white poster photo of Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw, stars in the 1970 movie, Love Story. Oh, how I loved that movie of love and tragedy and a rather feisty Jennifer Cavelleri who used shocking words like bulls**t.
Back then I believed the famous Love Story line: Love means never having to say you’re sorry. That, my friends, is BS.
I created a love vignette on a chest of drawers in my dining room. Included are this wood cut-out, wedding photos and vintage and homemade valentines.
After 36 years of marriage, I’ve learned the importance of apologizing. And I’ve learned that love deepens and widens and grows with each shared experience. Good and bad. Love bends. Love changes. Love listens, understands, forgives, encourages, supports, serves.
Friends who moved from Faribault to near Fargo crafted and mailed this cute owl valentine to us.
That definition extends to all who love each other, whether as partners, friends, family.
Love is care and compassion and kindness. It is being there through the joys and the challenges. It is also exercising self-control—clamping your lips, stopping your fingers from sending a hurtful text or email… It is about calling a friend or family member who needs support. It’s about asking, “How are you?” and really meaning it.
A snippet of the valentine my 22-month-old granddaughter, with the help of her mama, crafted for me and her grandpa. I love it.
This Valentine’s Day, I hope we can all be a little kinder to one another. I hope we can show love in ways that extend beyond chocolate and flowers and dinner out. I hope we can truly be there for one another in ways that surpass some Hollywood version of love. I hope we can listen and believe and care. I hope we can love how we were meant to love.
Happy Valentine’s Day, dear readers. I value and appreciate you.
Many, many times I’ve bemoaned her saving of Styrofoam meat trays, shoeboxes, twisty ties, bread bags and other such trashable or recyclable stuff. Why does she keep this, I wonder, and then answer my own question. She lived during The Depression. She understands the meaning of “Waste not, want not” and “A penny saved is a penny earned.”
I’ll never change her ways, so it’s best, for the most part, simply to accept that she will save anything and everything.
And sometimes I’m glad she does because I’ve come to appreciate links to the past, like the valentines she displays each year in her living room.
Aren’t they beautiful? I can’t even begin to compare the valentines of today to the valentines of yesteryear.
A car valentine belonging to my mom.
Another of my mom's vintage pop-up valentines.
Roses define this valentine my mom received decades ago.
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