Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

What’s your reaction to the blare of tornado warning sirens? May 25, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:48 AM
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HOW DO YOU RESPOND to sirens warning of an approaching storm?

I’d like to know, so consider this an unscientific poll spinning off the worst outbreak of deadly tornadoes in the U.S. since 1953. Already the death toll for 2011 has surpassed 450. And we’re not even into June, the peak of tornado season, at least here in Minnesota.

Why have so many died? I haven’t researched the reasons, but some residents of Joplin, Missouri, for example, claim they didn’t hear warning sirens above the roar of the storm.

During the Sunday afternoon tornado that cut a swath through north Minneapolis, sirens failed to work in places like Hugo to the northeast in Washington County. That didn’t sit well with residents who experienced a devastating tornado in 2008.

Even if sirens blare, warning of an approaching tornado or severe thunderstorm, do residents seek shelter?

How do you react when storm warning sirens sound?

A)    Immediately seek shelter in the basement.

B)     Step outside to look at the sky.

C)    Turn on the television or radio or go online for weather updates.

D)    Ignore the sirens.

E)     None of the above. Explain.

Please cast your vote and share your comments.

Not to influence your vote or anything, but I generally choose A. I possess a healthy, deep respect for storms, specifically tornadoes. That stems from growing up on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, near Tracy, a small town devastated by a June 13, 1968, tornado that killed nine and injured 150. The destruction of that F5  (261 – 318 mph winds) tornado, which I saw firsthand, left a lasting impression upon me.

Fortunately, I don’t panic like I once did when storm sirens sound. After I became a mother and realized that my panic was impacting my children, frightening them more than they needed to be frightened, I reigned in my fears. They didn’t need to know that I was afraid.

Other family members may disagree with that current assessment of my reaction to foreboding storms. My 17-year-old son, for example, surmised that I have an overactive imagination when I called him to the window Sunday afternoon to view ominous clouds that I thought might be swirling into a tornado. He actually laughed at me.

However, when storm watches, and especially warnings, are issued, I listen.  And when sirens sound, I prepare to take shelter.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My need to know about the Minneapolis tornado May 22, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:41 PM
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A shot of my television screen, showing KSTP coverage of the May 22 Minneapolis tornado.

YOU’RE A NEWS JUNKIE,” he says.

I don’t deny it, especially on this stormy Sunday when a tornado has swept through north Minneapolis, killing one and injuring around 20 others, according to the latest news reports.

Much of the afternoon, after hearing of the storms, I parked on the sofa, eyes fixed on the television screen. I also texted my oldest daughter, who lives in south Minneapolis.

When she finally replied to my “Are you in a safe place?” text, she asked, “No, why?”

So I clued her in that a tornado was moving through north Minneapolis. She was at a friend’s house after attending a concert and apparently not near the storm’s path.

But how was I, the concerned mother, to know? To me, Minneapolis is Minneapolis and my daughter could be anywhere.

My husband, the one who called me the news junkie, claims south Minneapolis lies 10 miles from north. I have no idea.

Once I knew that my oldest daughter was OK, my thoughts shifted east to Wisconsin, where the second daughter lives. I really wasn’t too worried, until 4:49 p.m. when she sent a text: “Sirens just went off.”

At that time my husband and I were wrapping up a shopping trip to pick up hardware and gardening supplies and a few groceries before filling up with gas and heading home.

The daughter who lives in Appleton on Wisconsin’s eastern side said the area was under a severe thunderstorm warning and flood watch and that she was at her apartment, but not in the basement.

Uh, huh. “Did I not teach you to go to the basement when the sirens sound?” I thought, but did not text.

Her follow-up message mentioned an unconfirmed funnel cloud in a nearby town.

That text reminded me that I really wanted to watch the 5 p.m. news. And that is when my spouse called me a news junkie.

What does he expect from someone who watched the CBS evening news with Walter Cronkite as a child and wanted to emulate the television news anchor? What does he expect from someone with a mass communications degree, emphasis in news editorial? What does he expect from a former newspaper reporter and now freelance writer and blogger? What does he expect from someone who is nosy and curious by nature?

Yes, I am a news junkie.

But I’m also a mom and a Minnesotan—two equally good reasons for staying informed.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

I welcome thee to Minnesota, warm Spring May 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:52 AM
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Oh, glorious Spring of warmth and sun, I welcome thee to Minnesota. Thou hath been too long absent.

Thy clouds have overshadowed this land, casting weariness upon the souls of all who dwell here.

Thy waters have poured forth from the heavens and fraught despair in the hearts of those who till the soil.

They who shelter the beasts of the earth have anguished.

But thou hath arrived in green pastures where cattle graze.

The sheep eat of the new grass.

And the mighty trees bask in thy beauty.

The people note the quiet unfurling of the leaves. Thou hath caused them to rejoice.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Tossing the Christmas tree and welcoming spring May 6, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:46 AM
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The remains of our dried up Christmas tree, now properly disposed of at the local composting pile.

ON WEDNESDAY EVENING we tossed the Christmas tree which has been buried under snow for, oh, about six months. Well, not quite, but winter seemed to linger into half a year.

I’m serious. As recently as this morning, we had temps in the 30s and several days ago wisps of snowflakes whirled in the sky.

But enough of that. With the official disposal of the Christmas tree at the finally-opened Faribault Compost Site, I can declare that spring has finally arrived here in southeastern Minnesota.

You don’t have to simply take my word for it. Join me on this photographic tour of my yard, where spring has clearly, finally (I hope) ousted winter.

Hostas push through the soil, unfurling bright green leaves. Why does green always seem brighter in the spring?

Most of my tulips are clasped shut yet, waiting for more sun and more warmth.

A plump red tulip about to burst into bloom.

A yellow tulip edges ever closer to full blossom in the spring sunshine.

Unfurling wild raspberry leaves hold the promise of summer.

Dainty violets, so easy to overlook in the splendor of spring.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Forbidden fruit and May Day surprises May 3, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:31 AM
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I SUPPOSE IMPRESSING me is not all that difficult. After all, I don’t live a lavish lifestyle, don’t own a fancy house, could care less about the latest fashions, etc.

So when I saw this fruit centerpiece on the island in my brother and sister-in-law’s Woodbury kitchen Sunday afternoon, I ooooohed and aaaaaaahed and carried on like Van Gogh himself had created this piece of art.

As diners loaded their plates with chips and salsa, veggies and dip, then tacos and all the fixings, followed by Special K bars, chocolate chip cookies, angel food cake smothered with whip cream and topped with fresh strawberries, and mints handmade by my mom and aunts, we didn’t eat of the forbidden fruit.

The fruit wasn’t truly forbidden. It just seemed that way.

You know what I mean. Just like no one wants to be the first in line at a buffet or wants to sit in the front church pew, no one apparently wanted to be the first to pluck fruit from the lovely, ever so lovely creation of an employee in the deli department of a local, fancy grocery store.

It seemed a shame to destroy such art, but eventually some brave guest reached out and did it, grabbed a piece of fruit or two and the sinful deed was done.

MORE THAN A FRUIT centerpiece impressed me on Sunday. So did this bit of weather news from North Dakota, e-mailed by my soon-to-be-leaving-Minot-and-moving-to-Missouri sister-in-law:

“We have suffered through yet another NoDak blizzard, which began early Saturday and ended early Sunday. There were 2 and 3 foot drifts in our driveway and many of the streets as we drove to church this morning,”

That sort of puts the whole gloomy, few-snowflakes-falling-in-southern- Minnesota-on-Sunday into an appreciative perspective.

FINALLY, TO END my Sunday, I was also impressed by an unexpected act of kindness bestowed upon my family by friends.

When we arrived home from a day of celebrating (Confirmation, not May Day) with family early Sunday evening, we found a decorated brown paper bag sitting outside by the garage. It was a May Day “basket” filled with puppy chow, which is not food for dogs, but food for humans. It’s crispy cereal squares covered with melted chocolate and peanut butter and then coated with powdered sugar. Yummy.

As much as I savored every single bite of puppy chow, I appreciated more the sweetness of Hannah and Noah, who, probably with the help of mom Tammy and the assistance of chauffeur Dad Jesse, pulled together this sweet May Day surprise for my family.

This little surprise brought back fond memories of weaving May Day baskets from lilac lavender and sunny yellow construction paper, cutting out paper tulips and giving the basket to my mom on May 1 so many elementary school years ago.

To think that friends would think to think of my family, to take the time to prepare a treat, decorate the bag and leave this thoughtful surprise touches me, deeply. It’s reassuring and uplifting to the human spirit to be the recipient of such unexpected kindness.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

After a natural disaster…the fear, the loss and reaching out to help April 29, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:01 AM
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I COULD WHINE, moan and grumble all day about the recent weather here in Minnesota. Rain. Cold. Snow showers. More rain and more cold. The cycle never ends.

But then I pick up today’s newspaper, turn on the television, switch on the radio or go online and my mouth clams. I have nothing, nothing, about which to complain.

I have not lost my home, my possessions, my business, my community, family or friends to killer tornadoes like those in Alabama, Mississippi or Georgia. Wednesday’s storms have been termed “the deadliest outbreak of tornadoes in nearly 40 years.”

To view the devastation, to hear the survivors, to even think about the utter destruction brings me to tears. I cannot fathom, do not want to fathom, such total devastation, loss of life and injury.

Tornadoes scare the h double hockey sticks out of me. I can trace that fear back to the June 13, 1968, tornado in Tracy, about 25 miles from my childhood home. I was an impressionable 11 ½-year-old when the tornado raced through this southwestern Minnesota farming community, killing nine. My family drove to Tracy, saw the flattened homes, the pick-up stix jumbled trees, the boxcars tossed aside like dropped toys. You don’t forget memorable images like that.

Decades later a tornado struck my childhood farm, damaging a silo and silo room, tossing farm wagons effortlessly about in the field. Those images, too, remain forever imprinted upon my memory.

Last week I saw snapped trees and minor damage to buildings along Wisconsin Highway 21 near Arkdale, which was struck by an April 10 tornado.

A view of storm damage to trees while traveling along Wisconsin Highway 21 west of Arkdale.

A felled tree by an apparently untouched home in Arkdale, Wisconsin.

In the distance, trees were damaged by a tornado that cut a 17-mile path from Arkdale to near Coleman in Wisconsin on April 10.

Less than a year ago, on June 17, 2010, a tornado outbreak swept through Minnesota, killing one person in Mentor in Polk County, another in Almora in Otter Tail County and the third near Albert Lea in Freeborn County.

How many of us have already forgotten about those tornadoes as we move on to the next natural disaster news story?

Yet, for those personally affected, the story never really ends. The chapters continue with the rebuilding of homes and lives, the haunting nightmares, the emotional aftershocks. Lives have been forever rewritten.

Tornadoes. Hurricanes. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Fires. Floods.

Survivors manage to pull their lives back together with the help of family, friends, neighbors and even strangers.

After a flash flood devastated Hammond in southeastern Minnesota last September, a group of Dakota County Technical College architectural technology students reached out.  They’ve worked with Hammond resident Judy Johnson in drafting remodeling plan options for her damaged home. You can read their story by clicking here. These students represent the good that emerges from the bad, the spirit of giving that makes me proud to be a Minnesotan.

I’ve followed the situation in Hammond since visiting that community shortly after the flood. I haven’t lifted a hammer to assist with recovery there. Rather, I’ve used the one tool that I possess—my words. I’ve crafted words into stories that I hope are making a difference. After reading my blog posts, two groups of volunteers have gone to help in Hammond.

That’s what it takes, each of us using our resources—whether that be words or money or skills or whatever—to help our neighbors in need.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No April fooling April 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:03 AM
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IF YOU LIVE in Minnesota, you can get fooled into thinking spring has arrived…until you wake up one morning and snow covers the ground. This is mid-April for gosh sakes, not March.

Weren’t temps a humid 80 degrees a week ago?

Wasn’t I raking leaves in short sleeves?

Digging out the flip flops?

Throwing open the windows to air out the stale, closed-in house after a long, long winter?

Wasn’t I suggesting that I pick up romaine lettuce at the garden shop and plant it? But my husband stopped me, warned me that temps could still drop to freezing. I listened, for once. Thankfully. But he didn’t say anything about snow. Oh, no, not snow.

I was fooled, duped, misled into believing spring had arrived.

Saturday morning I followed the limestone path through my backyard to check on the flowers that had already erupted. I paused to photograph the walkway. The circles, created by snow dripping from tree branches, made an interesting pattern. Faribault received 1 1/2 inches of snow overnight Friday into Saturday morning.

A few days ago I intended to photograph my daffodils, but, of course, I didnt. Now they are drooping in the snow.

Snow encases the daffodils Saturday morning.

I hope the budding tulips can survive the cold and snow.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Worrying about the Wisconsin tornadoes April 10, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:49 PM
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FOR THE PAST 1 1/2 HOURS, after receiving a text from my second daughter that she is hunkered down in the basement of her Appleton, Wisconsin, apartment, I have been worrying.

Her area of Wisconsin has been under a tornado warning.

So, for awhile, we texted back and forth, until finally, I thought it easier to call.

She didn’t seem scared, only worried about predicted hail and about her car sitting out in the parking lot.

Me? My daughter’s safety is top on my list. She is on call tonight for her job as a Spanish medical interpreter and I wanted to make sure she stayed put.

I made the mistake of logging onto the severe weather chatline on the area’s television station, FOX 11 WLUK-TV. Reports of tornadoes and strong winds and damaged buildings are streaming in.

Minute after minute, I read aloud, to my girl, the live chat comments. Finally, she said, “Mom, I think you’re scaring yourself.”

She would be right. I’m afraid of tornadoes, which could have something to do with the Tracy tornado of June 13, 1968, which killed nine. I lived, back then, only 25 miles from that southwestern Minnesota town.

But on this stormy night in Wisconsin, I’m afraid of a tornado six hours away in a state where I know few towns by name, let alone the counties where tornado warnings have been issued.

I recognize Menasha and Oskosh and Appleton and Little Chute.

And as I read the live chat comments, I realize that half of what I’m reading may be untrue.

So I read this comment to my daughter: “If people could type only what they know to be true that would be helpful!”

For the mom back in Minnesota, that would be very helpful.

And then my daughter tells me she has to go, that work is calling. And I tell her, emphasizing each word, “Don’t go anywhere.”

I’m hoping she will listen.

I tell her dad to call her.

But before he can, my cell phone rings. My daughter was asked to interpret over the phone. But because she was hunkered in the basement, without everything she needed for work, the scheduler told her to stay put.

For that I am thankful.

The last time I checked the National Weather Service, the storm was moving away from Appleton, toward the Green Bay area.

I’ve asked my daughter to let me know if there’s any storm damage in her area of Wisconsin.

But for now, I think I’ll log off that live severe weather chat line and call it a night. Oh, and I’ll say a prayer for our Wisconsin neighbors, adding a prayer also that my daughter doesn’t get called out on this stormy night.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Preparing for the floods, which haven’t arrived, yet, anyway March 25, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:11 AM
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Xcel Energy sandbagged its electrical substation near the Straight River in preparation for spring flooding. See the green, fenced enclosures next to the building. Last fall this substation flooded during a flash flood.

UNLESS THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE changes its forecast, a flood warning that covers Rice County expires at 3:30 p.m. Friday.

That’s good news for Faribault, where residents and officials have been nervously watching the rising, and now receding, Cannon and Straight Rivers that run through town.

Six months ago, those rivers rushed over their banks during a September flash flood, threatening homes and businesses and actually flooding some. Sewage also backed up in to homes and the city’s wastewater treatment plant was compromised. Because of the sudden nature of that flood, my community was not fully prepared.

This spring, though, following a winter of heavy snowfall and then a quick snow melt, officials had emergency plans in place to deal with possible flooding. They had even recruited students to fill sandbags, stockpiled at a local park for residential use.

They were ready. Ready is good.

Better to be safe than sorry.

Here’s a look at some river and preparedness scenes I shot near the Cannon and Straight Rivers Wednesday evening.

If we don’t get another major storm—rain or snow— and the weather stays cold, slowing the snow melt, I think we should be OK here in Faribault, meaning no need to worry about flooding.

But then that can change on a dime, and I’ve heard predictions of another possible river crest next week.

And so we wait…prepared.

Student volunteers and others filled sandbags, available to residents who needed them. These were stockpiled at South Alexander Park by the Cannon River when I shot this image Wednesday evening.

River waters rise close to Faribault Foods. Last fall floodwaters reached as far as the overhead doors.

The Straight River encroaches on Faribault's Water Reclamation Plant, which now appears "safe" from floodwaters.

A sandbagged utility area along the Straight River by the viaduct and Teepee Tonka Park on Faribault's east side.

CLICK HERE to view images from last September’s flash flood in Faribault, comparing the situation then to today. River levels are much lower than six months ago.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Cannon River today and six months ago

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:34 AM
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A view of the Cannon River from Father Slevin Park, looking toward the former Faribault Woolen Mill factory on the right and Faribault Foods on the left.

SIX MONTHS AGO I would not have been standing on this wedge of park land photographing the rising Cannon River by the Faribault Woolen Mill dam.

Here, by this dam, most locals judge the river level. And Wednesday evening, only the slightest hint of the dam showed beneath the roiling river. I kept a safe distance as I photographed scenes I had shot in September when a flash flood sent the Cannon spilling over its banks.

A statue in Father Slevin Park (I believe she is the Virgin Mary) next to the Cannon River.

Back then, this park, Father Slevin Park, was engulfed in water that had risen all the way to the roadway into the Rice County Fairgrounds and North Alexander Park in Faribault.

Father Slevin Park splits the Cannon. This is the other side of the river, looking toward the fairgrounds. The river was nearly out of its banks Wednesday evening.

The situation was not the crisis of six months ago, not at all. Just being here, beside the river, eased my fears about flooding in my community.

My husband, who travels by the Cannon daily on his way to and from work in nearby Northfield, tells me the river level dropped since I took these photos. That is good news for my town, for residents like me who had wondered and worried as the Cannon and Straight Rivers rose.

The former Faribault Woolen Mill building along the banks of the Cannon River.

A view of the Cannon River and the Faribault Woolen Mill from Father Slevin Park.

CLICK HERE to see images of the Cannon taken during the late September 2010 flash flood.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling