The Dam Store in Rapidan, photographed in 2010. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO, I wrote a magazine feature story on The Dam Store, a rural southern Minnesota business serving up food, bait and tackle. People travel for miles to buy a burger and a slice of homemade pie here. It’s the kind of place that appeals to me—unpretentious and welcoming. Cozy, homey and comfortable, with great food.
The calm Blue Earth River, photographed in 2010, looks nothing like this today. The raging river has taken out trees, a house, a county shed, and electrical substation as it cut a new path around the Rapidan Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The small eatery is located by the Rapidan Dam, a dam which has been in the news all week due to its possible imminent failure. Thus far, the dam has held. But the roaring, overflowing Blue Earth River carved a path around the dam to the west, eventually claiming the Hruska family’s riverside home. They run the nearby cafe.
This shows the short distance from the dam walkway to The Dam Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The Hruska family, including Jenny Barnes, has run The Dam Store for some 50 years. Her nearby childhood home fell into the raging river Tuesday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The Dam Store has been written about often as shown in this wall of feature stories. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The Dam Store sits a short distance away, close enough that it could possibly be overcome by floodwaters. At least that’s my non-professional opinion. And if that worries me, I can only imagine how the family feels.
Delicious burger and fries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
Notebooks full of praise for The Dam Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
Homemade rhubarb pie. The Dam Store is known for its fruit and cream pies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
This place is a treasure. A destination. A slice of Americana run by folks who care deeply about their customers. People rave about The Dam Store. I read that in comments filling a notebook when I was there back in 2010. I feel the same. To dine here is an experience, a step back in time to days when life seemed simpler.
Public officials are now concerned about the integrity of this bridge as the river is no longer flowing over the Rapidan Dam but cutting a path to the west. This 2010 photo shows a low, calm river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The Dam Store was packed with diners during my 2010 stop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The dam, built in 1908-1910, is 475 feet wide and measures 87 feet from the top to the streambed. This 2010 image shows a section of the dam and the nearby bridge, now in jeopardy due to river bank erosion by floodwaters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The scene unfolding today in Rapidan is decidedly one of concern and watchfulness. And for many, one of hope. Hope that The Dam Store will remain standing, untouched by floodwaters. The building has been there since 1910, the eatery in the Hruska family for more than 50 years. This is their history, their life, their livelihood. Their home. Their place.
The main dining area of The Dam Store with booths and lunch counter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
The Rapidan Heritage Society has established a relief fund for the Hruska family with donations accepted at MinnStar Bank offices in Mankato and Lake Crystal. Click here for more information.
These guys ordered burgers at the lunch counter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2010)
Now, until The Dam Store reopens—and I’m being optimistic that this will all turn out OK—enjoy these photos taken in 2010. I think you’ll understand why this place is so popular, so loved.
An egret flies over the Cannon River by the barely visible dam at North Alexander Park on Friday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
WILDLIFE SENSES, understands, picks up on nuances that we as humans often fail to notice in our heads-bent-to-our-smartphones, busy scheduled lives.
A blue heron perches on the edge of a tree along the Cannon River by the park-side dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
The recent flooding is a prime example. I saw countless cellphones raised to record floodwaters and rising rivers. I carried my 35 mm Canon camera, drawn just like everyone else to document the historic natural event unfolding before me along the Cannon River in Faribault.
An egret and blue heron seem to be checking out the river as a red-winged blackbird sits among the grasses to the right. That’s the Faribault Mill in the background, railings for the park-side dam in the foreground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
But I also noticed the wildlife. They, too, were observing. Watching the water. And watching people invade their river habitat by the hundreds. I sensed how uncomfortable the egret, blue heron, ducks and red-winged blackbirds were amid all the human chaos. So many people and so much traffic.
Flying high above the flooded river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
I expect they longed for quiet. Peace. A respite from the attention. A return to normalcy. No more peering eyes. No more crowds gathering.
A bullhead partially emerges from shallow water on dam’s edge as it tries to swim up the floodwaters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Another bullhead attempts to swim up river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2021)
And then there were the fish, primarily bullheads, but a few bass, attempting to swim up through water that was rushing down, spilling over the edges of the dam by North Alexander Park. The fish appeared determined to make it to the other side, to the quieter waters of the widened river. It seemed a losing cause to me. But who am I to discourage a stubborn bullhead? If anything, it was fascinating to watch.
A duck family swims in the shallow floodwaters next to the top of the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Finally, I observed a mama duck and her brood aside the top of the dam. They began edging, descending toward the river. Foolish ducks, I thought, judging the mother mallard. And then I voiced my concern out loud, “Stop, you’ll drown!”
The ducks move toward the deep river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
I can only imagine the thoughts of that mother and her six ducklings. “Did that woman really say that, warn us to stay out of the water lest we drown?” If ducks could laugh, the seven of them would have chortled, chuckled, carried on and then shared what they’d heard me say. Quack. Quack. Quackity. Quack.
A mallard drake swims in the Cannon River, nowhere near the female duck and ducklings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
But it was my husband who spoke for them. “They’re ducks, Audrey,” Randy said. “They can swim.”
An egret stands watchful and tall, next to the water rushing, roiling over the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Uh, yeah. He was right. But it was the mom in me emerging, the protective spirit that, in that moment, did not separate wildlife from human so focused was I on the dangers of the swollen, swift-moving river.
Roads are closed throughout the area due to flooding. Here a barricade blocks Dahle Avenue at its intersection with 220th Street East along the Straight River east of Faribault late Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 23, 2024)
A couple checks out flooded Dahle Avenue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 23, 2024)
As inconvenient as these road closures may be, especially to locals, it’s nothing compared to the flooding of businesses, homes, campgrounds and more, especially in neighboring Waterville. The small town draws lake-lovers to summer cabins and campgrounds with tourism an important part of the local economy.
The muddy, fast-moving Straight River, photographed late Sunday afternoon from a bridge on 220th Street East, east of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 23, 2024)
Other small towns, like Morristown and Warsaw, have also been impacted by the rising Cannon River. That water (and water from the Straight River) eventually ends up in Faribault and then Northfield and other places along the river and its watershed. In Faribault, public safety officials are keeping a close eye on the King Mill Dam, over which the Cannon flows. I’ve not seen that area, which is now barricaded to motor vehicle and foot traffic, and wisely so. The dam is a popular fishing spot. The road past the dam is also a busy traffic route, a connection to Minnesota State Highway 60.
Rounding 195th Street West, a flooded cornfield, photographed northwest of Faribault late Friday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Out in the countryside, too much rain has drowned corn and soybean crops, turning fields into lakes. I feel for the farmers, who depend on a good crop for their livelihood. It’s too late in Minnesota’s short growing season to replant. Crop insurance will cover some of their losses.
Excessive rain flooded this cornfield, transforming it from farmland to lake. Photographed late Friday morning along 195th Street West. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Rice County has a diverse topography of flat lands and rolling hills, plus differing soil types and drainage systems. Those, and rainfall amounts, affect whether a farm field floods. The entire county has experienced substantial rains. Just last Friday afternoon and into Saturday morning, we measured 3.1 inches of rain in our gauge. The day prior, 1.75 inches. Ten inches of rain fell here in eight days. Too much.
A flooded cornfield along 195th Street West, photographed Friday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Ducks swim in the cornfield turned lake late Friday morning along 195th Street West. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Ask any farmer, and he/she can likely give you rainfall totals. I saw some of that rainwater on Friday morning while on a short drive along backroads northwest of Faribault. And that was before Friday’s three-inch rainfall.
A bit down the road, more flooding in the rolling terrain along Fairbanks Avenue northwest of Faribault, photographed late Friday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
On Sunday afternoon, most fields in the area I traveled were not flooded, but at least one township gravel road along the Straight River was flooded and barricaded. I expect if I expanded my tour, I’d see a whole lot more road closures and flooded fields. (Click here for a list of roadways that are closed in Rice County.)
Public officials are warning people to heed warning signs (like this one on Dahle Avenue) and stay out of flooded areas due to the dangers of swift-moving, high water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 23, 2024)
In the all of this, there’s nothing we can do to control the weather. We can only prepare and then deal with whatever comes. Those, of course, are just words, not really helpful to anyone dealing with flooded fields, flooded roads, flooded homes, flooded businesses, flooded campers, flooded parks, flooded…
Friday evening the Cannon River was well above flood stage at the dam by the entrance to North Alexander Park. More rain overnight into Saturday raised the river level even higher. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
NEARLY 10 INCHES OF RAIN fell in the past eight days at my Faribault home, half of that in the last three days. The significant rainfall not only in my community, but throughout southern Minnesota, has resulted in flooding as rivers swell and overflow their banks.
The same dam scene Saturday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
By Saturday morning, the Cannon encroached on even more land and the river rose higher under the Second Avenue bridge by the entrance to North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
This churning water at the dam shows the power of the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Minnesota Governor Tim Walz declared a peacetime emergency authorizing the National Guard to assist and support with emergency flood operations as needed. Faribault Mayor Kevin Voracek has declared a local emergency as my city deals with flooding. In nearby hard-hit Waterville, some residents have been evacuated. Mankato has also experienced significant flooding.
A police cruiser is parked Saturday morning under the historic viaduct near Teepee Tonka Park, an area prone to flooding. By Saturday evening, the Straight River had flooded even more of the park and surrounding land. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
A chunk of south central Minnesota, including Faribault and other areas of Rice County, plus portions of Le Sueur, Steele and Waseca counties, remain in a flood warning until 10 a.m. Monday.
Teepee Tonka Park in Faribault, along the Straight River, was completely flooded Saturday morning. By evening, floodwaters crept onto the bridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Saturday morning the bridge at Teepee Tonka Park was open to pedestrians with a police officer stationed there. By evening, the bridge was cordoned off. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
A Faribault police officer chats with the public and monitors the Straight River on the bridge into Teepee Tonka Park Saturday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
It’s a lot—this flooding of homes and businesses, city parks and railroad tracks, parking lots and roadways, cropland… A few blocks from my home, Xcel Energy crews are monitoring an electrical substation surrounded by water from the overflowing Straight River.
Floodwaters surround this warning sign by the Woolen Mill Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
A fire department truck stops on the Second Avenue bridge over the Cannon River on Friday evening as emergency personnel keep an eye on the rising river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Police tape along the Cannon River by North Alexander Park is in place to keep people away from the roiling river. Friday evening the river nearly touched the bottom of the bridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
I arrived home from church late this morning to automated messages from the 911 emergency system. One issued a cautionary warning from public safety officials to honor barricades by not walking or driving around them. Ignoring such signage in flooded areas will result in a citation from law enforcement.
Watching the swift-moving Cannon River from behind police tape Friday evening near the historic Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Tree debris floats down the Cannon on Friday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
There’s a dam here, unseen as the Cannon River floods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
For the most part, I observed people being careful around floodwaters in Faribault while I was out on Friday evening and then again Saturday morning. The areas I accessed and photographed in that time frame have since been closed to the public, a smart move given the power of the river and the sheer volume of people checking things out. We are all naturally drawn to see for ourselves that which is unfolding in our backyard.
A car sits submerged in the parking lot of Two Rivers Health Center by Two Rivers Park on Saturday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 22, 2024)
Two rivers—the Cannon and the Straight—run through Faribault, converging at Two Rivers Park. Near that park, a car sat submerged Saturday morning in a parking lot. I’ve seen other vehicles sitting in floodwaters at the new riverside Straight River Apartments.
Along the Straight River on Third Avenue Northeast, floodwaters fill a backyard which, ironically, includes a boat. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Yet, as difficult as this flood event has been, it does not match the Faribault floods of 2010, 2014 and 2016, at least not from my recollection. Still, any flood is challenging.
Along the Straight River, a section of railroad tracks flooded. The Depot Bar & Grill patio is on the left. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
For those affected, there’s clean-up and paperwork and unexpected expenses. Emergencies like this often bring out the best in people, as a community comes together. At the local government level, I expect emergency personnel have been working overtime. The Rice County Landfill, rural Dundas, opens at 7:30 a.m. Monday to begin accepting flood-contaminated materials.
Below the historic viaduct, the Straight River overflows its banks Saturday morning. By evening, it had risen even more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
I am fortunate. There’s no flooding in my home or yard. But I know others are struggling. I hope that in Sunday’s sunshine—finally, a day without rain—they feel a sense of hope. Floodwaters will recede. And life will, eventually, return to normal.
Walking along the Cannon River by the dam Friday evening, before the river flooded even more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
A crew works to protect the Carlson Capital Management building along the east bank of the Cannon River. This is by the “Poem Steps” leading to the Riverwalk, now flooded. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
MANY AREAS OF SOUTHERN MINNESOTA, including my county of Rice, have been inundated with torrential rain during the past week. That’s led to flooding of rivers and property and to road closures. Like so many others, I’ve been out and about observing, taking photos.
People gather on the pedestrian bridge and along a sidewalk above the Riverwalk to see flooding along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Saturday evening, on our way home from visiting family in Lakeville, Randy and I drove through Northfield and stopped to walk along the Cannon River. The river runs through the heart of this historic downtown, which features a waterside river walk.
Flooding and sandbagging along the west bank of the Cannon near the Lady Cannon mural.
Sandbag wall on the west side of the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Lady Cannon is nearly swimming in the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
The Cannon has spilled over its banks, flooding the river walk and adjacent land and threatening buildings at water’s edge. Sandbags are in place. Pumping is underway.
People line the pedestrian bridge across the Cannon for a wide perspective of the river and the flooding. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Looking north from the pedestrian bridge to the Second Street/State Highway 19 bridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Looking south from the pedestrian bridge toward the Water Street bridge by the Ames Mill Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
And people are coming to the river by the hundreds to view its raging power. A pedestrian bridge high above the water offers a unique perspective.
The dam is barely visible by the historic Ames Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Among the many people viewing the river at the dam site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
And a bridge across the river by the historic Ames Mill provides a close-up view of the Cannon roaring over the dam.
Protecting Carlson Capital Management. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
A maze of hoses channel water out of the Carlson building while sandbags protect it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Froggy Bottoms on the west bank floods whenever the river floods. A neon green poster on the building reads: “This Frog Swims Again.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
It is impressive, all of it. The nauseating movement of the water. The speed. The danger. The feeling of overwhelming respect and awe in the presence of such power.
Fitting words on the door of the Froggy Bottoms building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
This I felt as I took in the scene unfolding before me on a Saturday evening in Northfield.
A sandbag wall protects property along the west bank of the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
A sandbagging station. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
A line of sandbags protects property on the west bank of the Cannon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
Life jackets drape a barricade blocking access to the flooded east side Riverwalk. Below, workers work to protect the Carlson building from the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 22, 2024)
NOTE: Check back tomorrow for flood photos from Faribault.
Fishing at the dam by Father Slevin Park in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
RIVERS REEL US IN, like fish to bait. There’s something about water, especially a river. It’s mesmerizing, soothing, poetic and, right now, rather dangerous.
The rushing Straight River, photographed just off the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Recent days found me watching the two rivers—the Cannon and the Straight—which flow through Faribault. They are full to overflowing, muddied and rushing after significant rainfall dropped an unofficial 3.5 inches into my rain gauge over the weekend. That followed weeks of heavy rain.
On the day I photographed this dock at Two Rivers Park, it was nearly submerged by the Straight and Cannon Rivers, which meet here. The dock typically sits high above the water. In retrospect, I should have stayed off this dock, which doesn’t seem all that safe. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024.
The City of Faribault has closed a section of a recreational trail running under the Second Avenue bridge due to flooding from the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
River levels are high, replenished after a near snow-less winter and the drought of 2023. But enough is enough. We need consistent sunshine and for the rain to stop. And for people to take extra care around fast-moving rivers.
Muddy marks on this plant show how high the roiling Straight River rose, just off the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The Rice County Sheriff’s Department has advised people to be cautious on local waterways and to stay off the Cannon River. Six young people and three adults were recently rescued from the Cannon after their canoes and kayaks overturned. I saw drone footage of rescuers plucking people from the river. They were wearing life jackets, clinging to fallen trees. They got out alive. They were fortunate.
Fallen trees and limbs like these in the Straight River near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park present a hazard to anyone on the water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Local rivers are snagged with obstacles, especially trees downed by a 2018 tornado. The current is fast, the water swift-moving, dangers hidden below the surface. Watercraft can easily capsize, turning an outing into tragedy or near tragedy.
Fishing the muddy Cannon River at Two Rivers Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I observed anglers safely fishing along the river bank at Two Rivers Park, above the dam by North Alexander Park and by the Woolen Mill Dam. These have always been popular fishing spots in town, although at Two Rivers most people fish from the dock. That was nearly under water when I stopped by. I didn’t visit the King Mill Dam, but I anticipate anglers were lining the shoreline there also.
The Cannon River is high and swift-moving at Two Rivers Park. The park was the staging scene for a recent water rescue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
An abandoned bobber tossed into the water where the Cannon and Straight rivers converge showed just how swift the current. I have no doubt the river could quickly pull a person under who’d fallen from a canoe or kayak.
Relaxing along the Cannon River in North Alexander Park, the Faribault Woolen Mill on the opposite shoreline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The iconic, historic Faribault Mill sits aside the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
This photo taken several days ago shows the minimal drop over the Woolen Mill dam, with raging river below.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
It’s easy enough to get misled by the water. Sit aside the wide stretch of the Cannon before it spills over two dams and the scene looks tranquil. The water’s surface is smooth, reflecting sky and trees and the historic woolen mill. But when the water spills over the dams, it transforms into something muddy and menacing, not to be messed with.
The scenic Cannon River and dam near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Respect the rivers, I say, even if it is tempting to launch a canoe or ease into a kayak. River levels will drop in due time as summer unfolds. There will be ample opportunity to get on the water, to enjoy the river scenery, to delight in the natural beauty of Mni Sóta, Dakota for “land of sky tinted waters.”
Photos by wildlife photographer Dave Angell, exhibited previously at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2023)
MARCH ROARED INTO MINNESOTA like a lion this past weekend. Louder in some parts of our state, like in Minneapolis northward. And quieter in other parts, like here in Faribault.
Snow falls under grey skies Sunday afternoon in my backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
We got only a few inches of snow in my community. I think. It’s difficult to measure in a spring storm that mixes heavy snow, light snow, wet snow, sleet and rain. Yes, it’s been quite a mix of precip. But I can assuredly tell you that the once barren landscape is layered in fresh snow under grey, drippy skies.
Snow falls, layering patio lights, fence and evergreens Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport recorded 8.2 inches of snow, the biggest snowfall of the season. They can have it, although I’m sure Minnesotans attempting to fly out for warm spring break destinations did not appreciate all the flight delays and cancellations on Sunday.
Snow creates an interesting black-and-white grid on my patio bricks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
Other than attending church services early Sunday morning and stepping onto the back stoop to take a few photos, I stayed inside all day. It was an ideal “sprinter” day (as my friend Gretchen aptly terms this season) to settle in with a good book. I’m reading The Violin Conspiracy, a novel by Brendan Slocumb centering on a gifted Black violinist. It’s a riveting, emotional read. Sometimes I wanted to roar like a lion at the unfairness, the prejudice, the challenges that thread through this book. I’m half-way through the novel.
A few more lions, but mostly lambs, have been added to this March calendar at Buckham Memorial Library since I photographed it on March 16. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
Lion. Lamb. That applies to life, to books, to the month of March.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2016 from Shepherd’s Way Farm, rural Nerstrand)
If I have a choice, I’ll choose a gentle lamb. I dislike conflict. I dislike sprinter storms that create travel woes, that require snow removal. But often we have no choice. Weather and life roar in like a lion and we face the challenges. Sometimes with fear. Sometimes with bravery. However we react, we are the stronger for having faced the lion. More empathetic. More compassionate. Less afraid. And that is the lesson of March.
This abandoned farmhouse once stood along Minnesota State Highway 19 east of my hometown of Vesta on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. It’s no longer there. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
A TIME EXISTED when I loved winter. The snow more than the cold. During my growing up years on a southwestern Minnesota farm, I could not wait for the first snowfall, which then piled snow upon snow upon snow for months.
This huge, hard-as-rock towering snowdrift blocked my childhood farm driveway in March 1965. (Photo credit: Elvern Kletscher)
Fierce prairie winds swept snow around outbuildings, sculpting rock-hard drifts, an ideal landscape for Canadian Mounties. Snow pushed into piles by the loader of Dad’s John Deere tractor became mountains, rugged terrain to conquer. And pristine snow presented the perfect canvas for a game of Fox and Goose.
Our southwestern Minnesota farmyard is buried in snowdrifts in this March 1965 image. (Photo credit: Elvern Kletscher)
I remember, too, the crisp winter evenings of walking from barn to house after finishing chores. Packed snow crunched beneath my buckle overshoes. Frigid air bit at my nose, my mouth streaming billows of vapor. Overhead a billion stars pricked light into the immense black sky. Ahead of me, windows glowed in our tiny wood-frame farmhouse.
Those are the good memories I choose to remember. Not the near-frozen fingers. Not the pot on the porch because we had no bathroom. Not the house foundation wrapped in brown paper to seal out the cold. Not the central oil-burning stove that never kept the house warm enough.
Today I have it so much better. A warm house with a bathroom. No cows or calves to feed or straw bales to shake or manure to scoop. No dealing with cracked, chapped, bleeding hands. I have every reason today to embrace winter minus many of the hardships of yesteryear. But I find I don’t.
I’m working, though, on shifting my attitude back to that of appreciating a season which is often harsh here in Minnesota, although not in this unseasonably mild and nearly snow-less winter of 2023-2024. Last winter, now that was a record snowfall winter which tested many a life-long Minnesotan. Except perhaps my friend Jackie of Rochester, who loves winter.
The vintage winter photo gracing the cover of Mischke’s book is from the archives of the Minnesota Historical Society. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo)
Writer, musician, podcaster and former radio talk show host TD Mischke also loves winter (most of the time) as evidenced in his book Winter’s Song—A Hymn to the North, published in 2023 by Skywater Publishing Cooperative. I happened upon his collection of winter writing at my brother-in-law and sister-in-law’s house north of the metro. Jon is about as avid an outdoorsman as they come. Hunting. Fishing. And in the dead of winter, spearfishing on the frozen lake. This seemed a book written just for him.
Recognizing the Mischke name, I immediately inquired whether the writer, TD Mischke, was any relation to Sy Mischke, friend of my late father-in-law. Sy, a “character” by my definition, was TD’s uncle. TD Mischke certainly writes about characters in Winter’s Song.
Clearing snow is a sometimes endless task during a Minnesota winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
His collection of short stories, essays and three poems honors Midwest winters. Not in a fully nostalgic way, but with a mix of reality. Winters are, admittedly, brutal. But also brimming blessings. The word “hymn” in the book title fits.
A lovely winter scene photographed in 2019 north of Faribault. It portrays the beauty of winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
As I read through the short chapters, I found myself liking winter more and more. And that’s thanks to Mischke’s storytelling skills, his attention to detail, his introspective writing, his humor, his honest portrayal of winter in Minnesota. Not everyone is meant to live here. That Mischke acknowledges. But he also acknowledges the toughness, stamina, strength and endurance of those who call the North home. I agree that it takes a bit of fortitude to manage some six months of winter. I felt in that moment a sense of pride as a life-long Minnesotan.
Spring erupts in budding trees at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2019)
That brings me to the second to last chapter of Winter’s Song—“Lessons of March.” It seemed only fitting that I was reading this chapter near the end of March on a day of predicted snow. I’ve never liked March much. But Mischke reminded me that this often grey month, which can throw in surprise snowstorms, should be appreciated for the simple reason that it makes us appreciate April even more. The arrival of spring. He’s right. Winter is often about perspective. After finishing Winter’s Song, I feel my thoughts shifting toward a renewed appreciation for this longest of seasons here in Minnesota.
Crocuses blooming on March 12. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
DAYS AFTER I BRUSHED aside leaf mulch, my crocuses are in full bloom under the bold sunlight of March here in southern Minnesota.
Veins run through the cupped purple petals popping with golden centers. They are beautiful to behold. Vibrant in a landscape of brown.
Due to the unseasonably mild Minnesota winter, these crocuses are blooming weeks earlier than usual. Had I not uncovered the perennials several days ago to find a lone blossom leaning, I would have missed this explosion of color in my front yard flowerbed.
I admire crocuses, daffodils and tulips, the first brave flowers of spring. That they even survive in this harsh climate seems a miracle in itself. Crocuses store food in corms, their underground stem system.
And so I want to take a moment to celebrate this clutch of crocuses, to recognize the importance of noticing that which is right before our eyes. All too often we hurry through our days without pausing to appreciate the little things. The flush of blossoms. The bright flash of a cardinal. The scurrying of a squirrel. Today may you stop, look and see, really see, the beauty within this day.
TELL ME: What little thing are you seeing today that bring you joy?
Under a layer of leaves, I found this blooming crocus. Already, in early March. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
IN TRULY UN-MINNESOTAN fashion, I have penned very little this winter about the weather. That is atypical of a life-long resident. We are, if anything, obsessed about weather in Minnesota. We take pride in our cold weather, our snow, in managing to persevere in an often harsh climate. Weather affects our lives on a daily basis.
But this winter season, our image as the Bold Cold North has significantly changed. These past four months have been primarily snow-less and unseasonably warm. Sure, we’ve had a bit of snow and some cold snaps with sub-zero temperatures. Yet nothing like we’ve come to expect.
As I write, I look out my office window to a scene devoid of snow. The temperature is 46 degrees. At 9:51 a.m. on an early March morning. Laundry is drying on the clothesline. And the sun blazes bright upon the monotone landscape.
Daffodils, too, are emerging early. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
If I look closely, I see signs of spring come too soon. I need only examine my perennial flowerbeds to find spring flowers emerging from the soil. Under a layer of dried leaf mulch, I uncover a single crocus tipped on its side. I push more leaves aside revealing tender shoots of crocuses and daffodils. They need sunlight to thrive.
Tulips on the south-facing side of my house started popping weeks ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
Tulips and irises are up, too. Too soon. Not yet blooming. I noticed tulip bulbs popping greenery already in February.
All of this is an anomaly. We should be experiencing snowstorms and school closures, hearing the scrape of snowplows, the roar of snowblowers. Kids should be skating and sledding. As much as I appreciate the lack of icy roads and sidewalks, no snow to clear and no worry about winter weather, it just doesn’t feel right.
I’ve realized that I really do like the diversity of distinct seasons in Minnesota. There’s something to be said about anticipating spring after a long hard winter, like we experienced last year with record snowfall…
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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