Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Tornado terror in Minnesota on June 17, 2010 June 18, 2010

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Ominous clouds roil above Faribault shortly after 9 p.m. Thursday. I shot this through my dining room window.

“WERE THOSE THE SIRENS?” I ask, inching down the car window, uncertain whether I’ve heard the sirens that warn of an approaching storm.

“I think it was a truck,” my husband says as he continues driving west along Minnesota Highway 60 in Faribault toward the Eagles Club.

Then I hear the sound again, and this time we recognize the shrill whistle warning us to take cover.

“I want to go home. Now,” I command.

I can tell simply by my husband’s lack of response that he thinks I’m crazy. The skies don’t appear all that threatening.

“They’re not going to take our blood anyway,” I state, arguing my case. “I’m sure they have protocol in situations like this.”

He won’t concur that I am right, seeming to hesitate at the intersection that will take us to the Eagles and the Red Cross Bloodmobile. But on this June evening, the Red Cross will get none of our blood. We are heading back home, across town, to safety.

My husband switches on the car radio. The announcer is advising people to take shelter as near as Waterville about 15 miles away. The area lies in the path of a tornado.

Back home I nearly leap from the car and rush inside the house where we left our 16-year-old son finishing his homework for a night-time astronomy class. Before leaving, I instructed him to seek shelter if he heard the sirens. Clearly, he has listened to me this time. The door to the basement is flung open, the lights blazing.

I yell for my boy, but get no response. Soon he pounds down the stairs from the second story. “I checked on the internet and it’s only a thunderstorm warning,” he says.

“Uh, no,” I say, explaining that we are under a tornado warning.

Given that, none of us are fleeing to the basement even though I fear tornadoes. Witnessing the destruction of the June 13, 1968, Tracy tornado (see my June 13 blog post) that claimed nine lives and, decades later, seeing the damage a twister caused to the southwestern Minnesota farm where I grew up instilled in me a life-long healthy respect for these powerful storms.

And yesterday, in Minnesota, that respect likely grew among residents. Two people in the Wadena area and one near Albert Lea were killed when tornadoes struck. The state may have broken its record for the biggest tornado outbreak in a single day. That record stood at 27 on June 16, 1992, when an F5 tornado devastated Chandler and killed one person.

On Thursday, multiple twisters ravage many regions of Minnesota. At one time, a weatherman reports that a tornado seems to be moving straight north along Interstate 35 toward Owatonna, just to the south of Faribault.

I worry about my sister and her husband who are traveling on I-35 to Des Moines sometime after she gets off work Thursday afternoon. That route would take them directly through the storm-struck area. The interstate has been closed due to the storm, one reporter says.

Here in Faribault, round 9 p.m. on Thursday, the skies turn an eerie green to the west. To the east, ominous steel-gray clouds weigh heavy upon the earth. My anxiety level rises as I recall something about green skies and tornadoes, true or not. But no new warning sirens blare.

When I climb into bed at 11:15 p.m., many Minnesota counties, including my home county of Rice, remain under a tornado watch until 1 a.m.

This morning I awake to cloudy skies, edged out now by bright sunshine. I expect for many in our state, daylight brings a new appreciation for the power of tornadoes and a profound thankfulness for surviving their rage.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering the Tracy, Minnesota tornado of June 13, 1968 June 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:33 AM
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“YOU COULD SEE THINGS FLYING in the air…big chunks of wood from houses…everything was circling.”

Forty-two years ago today, then18-year-old Al Koch watched as a tornado, which would soon turn deadly, aimed for his family’s Custer Township farm one mile east of Garvin in southwestern Minnesota.

“It looked like it was coming toward us, then it took a jog,” he remembers. “It was real wide and real black.”

The twister had changed direction, heading at an angle straight toward Tracy four miles to the northeast. When the Koch family—Melvin and Delpha and sons, Bruce and Al—realized that, they sounded the alarm. Delpha phoned the Tracy Police Department dispatcher at about 6:50 p.m., warning of the approaching tornado.

Civil defense sirens sounded five minutes later. And at 7:04 p.m., the twister struck the southwestern edge of this farming community.

The F5 tornado, the most powerful with winds of 261 – 318 mph, ravaged the small town, leaving nine people dead and 150 injured.

If not for that warning from the Kochs, more people likely would have died. The family was honored for their efforts, and drew much media attention.

Today, at age 60, Al recalls how his family nearly immediately drove to the Tracy hospital, where Delpha worked as a nurse. They knew she would be needed. According to news reports, even local veterinarians were called upon to treat the injured.

The Kochs dropped Delpha off and then left Tracy right away. Al remembers, especially, the people he saw walking among the destruction. “They were kind of black, covered with dirt.”

Details like that and his fear that the tornado would hit his family’s farm, even after more than four decades, stick with this Garvin farmer who had just graduated from Tracy High School in 1968. Years later, he would marry Janette, one of my best friends from Wabasso High School.

Earlier this spring while researching the Tracy tornado, I learned of Delpha Koch’s early warning to the community. I e-mailed Janette and asked if Delpha was related to her husband. Of course, she was and that’s how I ended up with a thick packet of newspaper clippings about the deadly twister. These were stories I had never heard.

I was only 11 ½ when the storm struck. On that deadly evening, my dad watched the tornado through an open barn door on our farm near Vesta. He thought the twister was much closer than Tracy 25 miles to the southwest. My family eventually drove to Tracy to see first-hand the destruction. What I witnessed left me with a life-long respect for—even fear of—the powerful strength of a tornado.

Now, 42 years later, as I paged through these first-person accounts, I sensed the horror of those who experienced the June 13, 1968, tornado.

I read, for the first time, the names of those who died: Nancy Vlahos, 2; Walter Swanson, 47; Ella Haney, 84; Mildred Harden, 75; Ellen Morgan, 75; Otelia Werner, 75; Fred Pilatus, 71; Paul Swanson, 60; and Barbara Holbrook, 50.

I read of bodies laid out for identification in the hospital laundry room. I read of the father who struggled to hold onto his 12-year-old daughter as tornadic winds tried to suck her from his grasp. I read of the 50-year-old woman who came out of her basement too early and died. I read about one victim, who had a big, long piece of wood driven through his legs. I read about the woman found lying dead near her couch, presumably unaware of the tornado because she wore a hearing aid and did not hear the storm coming.

I read. I cried.

Today, please take a moment to honor the memories of those who lost their lives in the Tracy tornado of June 13, 1968.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

We talk about the weather, always the weather, here in Minnesota May 26, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:33 AM
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If I was a meteorologist, I could identify these cotton ball masses of clouds that hung over my Faribault home for a short time early Tuesday afternoon, another steamy day in Minnesota. Can anyone identify these?

UNSEASONABLY WARM. Record-breaking temperatures. High humidity.

You knew this blog post had to be coming. If I failed to write about the hot, summer-like weather we’ve experienced in southern Minnesota the past few days, I would risk deportation to Iowa or Wisconsin.

Not that I have anything against those neighboring states, but I am a Minnesotan through and through. And as such, writing or talking about the weather is a given. To do so is a geographical right.

Minnesotans boast/whine/complain/brag (choose your verb) about the weather.

In the winter, we talk about the sub-zero temperatures, windchills, blowing snow, winter storm warnings, blizzard warnings and, oh, yes, school closings.

In the summer we complain about the heat index and the humidity, always the humidity.

In the fall, we worry about an early frost and about too much rain keeping farmers out of fields.

But in the spring, typically, we are more content, unless, of course, the snow lingers too long, the weather is cool and wet or the farmers can’t get in the fields or there’s a late frost or there’s not enough rain.

Let me restate that. Even in spring we live in a season of weather-induced discontent, although we should feel content after six months of winter.

This spring, or at least in recent days, we’ve dealt with record-breaking temperatures. Here in Faribault on Monday, the temp soared to 95 degrees, unheard of for May 24.

In my neighborhood, kids are plunging into wading pools usually reserved for searing summer afternoons.

In my house, just days after our new central air conditioner was readied for use, I clicked the air switch to “on.” The cooling unit ran from Sunday evening to Tuesday evening, when a front brought much-needed rain and cooler temps. Last year we didn’t even install our window air conditioner.

So this is Minnesota. Cool one summer. Hot one spring.

In true Minnesota fashion, I will tell you, it could be worse.

Oh, sky, lovely sky. These clouds captivated me with their unique beauty.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Raindrops on begonias May 14, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:17 AM
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AFTER A LONG, DREARY, cloudy, rainy, cold week here in southeastern Minnesota, I needed something to lift my spirits.

So late Thursday afternoon, when the lighting was perfect, the rain no longer falling, I grabbed my camera and headed outdoors. I didn’t have to walk far before I noticed glistening raindrops clinging to begonia blossoms in a pot next to the garage.

First I simply bent in close to snap an image. Not satisfied, I knelt on the cement driveway and moved in even closer. By then I had become totally captivated by the raindrops, which clustered like opaque pearls upon petals.

In those few moments, as I composed photos, my spirits soared. I saw beauty before me. I welcomed the rain that this land, this dry, dry land, so desperately needed.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My tomatoes are planted and now I have to worry about snow May 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:30 AM
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Marguerite sweet potato vine, Rose Morn Madness petunias and a sun-loving coleus fill one of 10 flower pots in my back yard. These are planted in a calf pail. Former farm girls, you'll understand.

WHAT’S WITH THE WEATHER here in Minnesota?

First, April comes and goes with unseasonably warm temperatures and lots of sunshine. Now May arrives with temps so cold that snow and frost are in the forecast.

It seems many of us, including me, were tricked in to believing that spring had arrived. Like many Minnesotans, I’m now scrambling to protect the tender young plants I prematurely planted outdoors.

For days, I have been lugging heavy, flower-filled pots into the garage at night and back outside in the morning. In and out, in and out. It’s back-breaking work. But I’m not about to lose those plants to frost. So my husband and I haul the pots inside and cover tomatoes and flowers with buckets and blankets.

All of this could have been avoided if only I had listened to my elders. You see, on Sunday while shopping at the Faribault Garden Center, I asked a seasoned gardener if it was too early to plant tomatoes.

He advised me to wait until the end of May. Foolish me. I didn’t listen.

Last summer I was introduced to, and fell in love with, Diamond Frost. I like the airy look of this plant with the tiny white flowers. Here I've mixed it with a Contessa Purple (Black Magic) ivy geranium, pink Superbells and Quartz Creek Soft Rush grass.

My husband found this Easy Wave violet petunia. I love the blue tinge at the edge of the blossoms. It's the perfect fit for my favorite flower colors--purple, pink, shades of burgundy and yellow.

For height, I picked out a grass that will grow into waving purple plumes. The ivy will spill over the pot. And Burgundy Madness petunias add just the right splash of color in a huge blue pot.

I can't wait until all of these flowers are in bloom. I replicated a planting I saw at Donahue's Greenhouse in Faribault. Included are Sunsatia lemon nemesia, Superbells Yellow Chiffon, Lemon Symphony Osteospermum and Supertunia Citrus. All flowers are in varying shades of yellows. Just the names of the plants drew me to them.

I combined Rose Morn Madness petunias and sweet-smelling purple Heliotrope in this clay flower pot.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A Minnesotan reflects on tornado terror during Severe Weather Awareness Week April 22, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:21 PM
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I bought this tornado video for my brother Brian, who is fascinated by twisters, at a garage sale several years ago. I've never given it to him, nor have I watched the film.

I FIGURE THAT sometime tonight, when I wish I was peacefully sleeping, I’ll dream about tornadoes. I’ll likely awaken, terrified and shaken.

Tornadoes terrorize my sleep all too often. It takes only news about a tornado or viewing a photo or television footage of a tornado to trigger the night-time trauma.

Today, with warning sirens sounding state-wide during Severe Weather Awareness Week, the atmosphere in my bedroom is primed for stormy weather.

Now, you’re likely wondering why I’m so inclined to having nightmares about tornadoes. The answer is simple: the June 13, 1968, Tracy, Minnesota, tornado. The twister was an F5, the most powerful, with winds of 261- 318 mph.

I was 11 ½ years old when the destructive tornado struck the southwestern Minnesota prairie town, killing nine and injuring 150. If not for the fact that I lived within 25 miles of Tracy, the tornado likely would not have impacted me so much.

But, I remember because my dad, who claims he watched the twister from our barn, drove our family to view the devastation. I can’t recall much other than a twisted, mangled mess of debris, a tossed boxcar and snapped trees. And, somewhere, tucked in the recesses of my memory, I store this tidbit about a piece of straw driven through a board. True or not, I’m unsure.

The fact that nine people died in Tracy haunted me and remains with me to this day. As a child every strong wind storm and every tornado watch or warning sent fear shivering through my body.

Then in 1979 (or 1980, my mom and I can’t recall the exact year), fear became reality. The Redwood County farm where I grew up was struck by a tornado. I was grown and gone, living and working in Gaylord as a newspaper reporter, when I got the call from home. The storm had partially toppled a silo, tossed silage wagons about in the field, and wrenched a railing from the house, among other damage.

Fortunately for my family, my dad, who would have typically been in the barn at that early evening hour, had left to get my sister from nearby Wabasso. My mom, home alone, recalls seeing the top of a tree bend and touch the earth. She saw debris—probably that railing—fly past the window as she descended the basement stairs.

So, now you understand why I don’t take tornado warnings lightly. For years, I freaked out whenever tornado sirens sounded. Then I became a mom and realized that I needed to curb those fears for the sake of my children. I didn’t always accomplish that. But I tried.

Some of the 46 tornadoes featured in the video.

OUT OF CURIOSITY, I checked today on Minnesota tornado statistics, from 1950 – 2005, compiled by the National Weather Service Weather Forecast Office in the Twin Cities. Polk County in northwestern Minnesota has had the most tornadoes, 47, during those years. That follows with 42 in Otter Tail County, three counties to the south.

Counties with 30 or more twisters include Stearns and Kandiyohi (39); Freeborn (37); St. Louis (31); and Nobles (30).

In Redwood County, my home county, there have been 23 or 24, depending on which statistic page you view on the weather service Web site. Only one Redwood County tornado-related death was recorded in those 55 years, on August 4, 1958.

Rice County, my current county of residence, has had 17 – 21 twisters, again depending on which page you view.

But the one fact I find most interesting is this: Minnesota’s only two F5 tornadoes—the most powerful—occurred in adjoining southwestern Minnesota counties. On June 13, 1968, the F5 tornado struck Tracy in Lyon County killing nine. Twenty-four years and three days later, on June 16, 1992, an F5 twister struck just 30 miles away in Chandler in Murray County. One person died and 35 were injured.

Now after doing all this tornado thinking and research, I expect tonight that I will be chased by tornadoes.

What are your worries related to tornadoes? Have you experienced a twister? I would like to hear your concerns and stories. Please consider submitting a comment to Minnesota Prairie Roots.

And, when those test warning sirens sound this afternoon and again this evening, have a plan to keep yourself safe.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Spring’s beauty, through my camera lens April 20, 2010

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Wild purple violet

FOR THOSE OF US who live in Minnesota, where winter can last six to seven months, this year’s early arrival of spring has been greeted with nothing short of elation.

No snow fell here during the entire month of March, typically one of our snowiest months, if not the snowiest.

And so far this April, not a single flake. I think we are all perhaps holding our collective breath wondering if this is all too good to be true.

For now, though, I am enjoying every facet of spring from the sunshine to the 70-degree temps to the budding plants and chirping birds.

To truly embrace spring, though, you need to get up close to nature. Don’t just look, but see. For me, that’s best done through the lens of my Canon EOS 20D digital camera.

Join me in my backyard. Bend and lean in close. See the veins in the flowers, the blades of grass, the shades of blue, purple and pink…

Don’t simply look at spring. See it.

Bleeding heart buds

Emerging rhubarb

Wild blue violet

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Should I hang laundry on the clothesline or not? April 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:13 AM
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Raindrops on my hosta.

THURSDAY BROUGHT much-needed rain to our area.

But, in all truthfulness, the rainfall surprised me as evidenced by the freshly-laundered bath towels I hung on the clothesline.

On Monday, believing the predictions of rain, I dried my laundry in the dryer. Not a speck of moisture fell from the sky all day. I chastised myself for trusting the forecasters.

I would not be tricked again.

So Thursday morning, despite predictions of rain, I hung towels outdoors. Then, an hour later, I watched as rain fell, not just lightly, but steadily.

I left the towels there. When the rain ceased, I hauled the heavy, wet load inside, lugged the clothes basket down the basement stairs and then heaved the soggy pile into the dryer.

That was followed by two loads of laundered sheets.

Then, Thursday afternoon, the sun came out, bright and strong. The wind blew a steady, drying breeze across my backyard. Perfect clothes drying weather.

I chastised myself for acting too soon, for believing the rain would last all day.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mad about March in Minnesota April 2, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:01 AM
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My crocuses bloomed in mid-March, much earlier than normal for spring bulbs in Minnesota.

IF EVERY MINNESOTA March matched this past one, then I’d be a happy Minnesotan.

Typically, I dread this month that brings significant snowfall and biting winds, gray skies and a bleak landscape.

But this month just passed, this March, this I can take.

For the entire 31 days of March, our northern state, or at least the southeastern part where I live, received not a single flake of snow.

That is cause to celebrate because, up until then, this had been an incredibly long winter of too much snow.

I’ll take a snowless March any year.

Yeah, I know there are those naysayers who will complain about the dry conditions due to the lack of moisture. Yes, I understand that a dry landscape equals fire danger.

But, please, let us not bemoan a shorter winter, an earlier spring, butterflies in March, 70-degree days, shirt sleeves and shorts, blooming crocuses, farmers seeding oats on March 30…

In non-Minnesotan fashion, let us accept this gift without feeling guilty, like the other shoe will drop in April.

Yes, the weather’s “not too bad” and “it could be worse.”

So enjoy it, while it lasts.

A Goodhue County farmer had just finished chisel plowing a field when I snapped this mid-March photo.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling