Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Name that Minnesota snowplow January 29, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:01 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
Blowing snow reduces visibility along Rice County Road 25/197th Street East near Faribault on January 18, 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)

WITH THE LONG WINTERS we have here in Minnesota, we find creative ways to get through this lengthy, lingering season. That includes naming our state-owned snowplows.

It’s that time of year again when voting opens in the Minnesota Department of Transportation’s Name That Snowplow Contest. Yup, we started naming our snowplows in 2020. Not all of them, of course, because MnDOT has a large fleet of big orange snowplows. Rather, eight names are selected for a snowplow in each of MnDOT’s eight districts.

The contest, and, yes, this is a contest, garnered more than 7,300 submissions for the 2024-2025 season. Guidelines called for witty, unique and Minnesota or winter-themed names. Rules banned profanity, political connections (thank you, MnDOT) and such. In other words, Minnesotans needed to exercise Minnesota Nice in suggesting snowplow names.

In a nod to Taylor Swift, a snowplow in MnDOT’s District 2 was named Taylor Drift in the 2024 contest. (Photo credit: Minnesota Department of Transportation)

MnDOT staff reviewed the submitted names and narrowed the choices to 50. How would you like that job? Now the public has until noon on Friday, February 7, to vote for up to eight names. Just like in any election, you can vote only once. But not at the ballot box. Vote online.

Scrolling through the list of names, I picked my favorites. Now, if my choices influence your picks, I offer no apologies. You can vote your conscience.

A City of Faribault truck plows snow in the winter of 2023. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

I’m voting for these names, listed in alphabetical order and followed by my reasons for selecting them:

Bob Chillin’—A tribute to native son, singer, songwriter and poet Bob Dylan, who is not a complete unknown.

Catch My Drift—Just because it’s catchy and this is what snowplows do, especially on my native prairie.

Little Plow on the Prairie—A nod to author Laura Ingalls Wilder and the TV series, Little House on the Prairie, set in Walnut Grove, Minnesota (the show, not the book).

Make Snowbegone—A reference to writer Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon and also the way many Minnesotans feel in the deep of a snowy winter.

MinneSNOWta N’ice—Obviously referring to Minnesota weather and the “Minnesota Nice” moniker tagged to Minnesotans.

SKOL Plow—Even if the Minnesota Vikings did not get to the Super Bowl (again), we remain (mostly) loyal to our team and are fond of our Scandinavian cheer chant, SKOL!

Snow Place Like Home—A clever twist on the phrase, “There’s no place like home” from The Wizard of Oz. Judy Garland, Dorothy in the film, was born Frances Ethel Gumm in Grand Rapids, Minnesota.

We’re Off To See the Blizzard—And, yes, that would be a spin off “We’re off to see the wizard (of Oz).” Snowplows are, indeed, sometimes off to see the blizzard.

There you go. Exercise your right to vote in a nonpartisan election. Just for fun. To vote, click here.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In the deep of January, floral murals jolt joy January 21, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:01 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
A Northfield Arts and Culture Commission mural by Brett Whitacre, just off Division Street in Northfield, blooms love. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

IS IT COLD out there?” I asked before rolling out of bed on a recent subzero morning.

In an underpass tunnel along a recreational trail in Northfield, Adam Turman created this summer scene on a mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

“No, it’s summertime,” he answered.

A Montgomery Wings Mural Walk wing on Lanette’s Coffee Shop features flowers watered by Scarlett, who is wearing traditional Czech clothing. That honor’s the Czech heritage of Montgomery, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

That sarcastic response from my husband acted as a writing prompt during this week of cold weather advisories and warnings in Minnesota. We’ve experienced wind chills ranging from -25 to -50 degrees across the state. That’s brutally cold.

Wild geraniums painted by Adam Turman inside an underpass tunnel in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

On the morning I asked Randy about the cold, the 7:17 a.m. air temp registered -12 degrees. With the wind chill, it felt like -29 degrees. That marked the coldest day in six years. I know we are not alone here in Minnesota as frigid air and snow sweep the country, including into the deep South.

Flowers fill the LoveForAll mural by Jordyn Brennan in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Because I can’t flee to a warmer location, I opted to transport myself from the currently cold, colorless landscape of southern Minnesota to a place of beauty. Without leaving the area. For me, that comes in photos I’ve taken of floral-themed murals blooming throughout the area. In the deep of winter, these paintings hold the hope of warmer days, of sunshine and flowers.

My most recent mural discovery was several months ago on Wild Wood in Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I love when communities embrace this form of public art, because murals are accessible to anyone, anytime. They spark joy, generate interest in place, show community pride. I get excited when I unexpectedly happen upon a mural.

The rare Dwarf Trout Lily grows only in Rice, Steele and Goodhue counties in Minnesota and is depicted here by Adam Turman on an underpass tunnel wall in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Floral-themed murals, especially, have a way of uplifting spirits, of celebrating all that is beautiful and lovely. Bold, vivid hues in the deep of January in Minnesota, offer a welcome visual respite.

A close-up of mums and peonies, forefront, in Jordyn Brennan’s LoveForAll mural. Faribault was once renowned for those two flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I can almost imagine meandering through a flower garden, dipping my nose into blossoms, appreciating each scent, each petal, each stem. Oh, the beauty of it all.

Floral-themed wings appropriately placed outside Posy Floral & Gifts in Montgomery as part of the Montgomery Wings Mural Walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

On these frigid days, when I view a drab landscape of muted tones, trees stripped of leaves, snow layering the earth, I delight in sharing the floral murals I’ve photographed. No one ever promised me a rose garden. But these murals hold the promise of spring and of summertime in Minnesota.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Defining a Minnesota cold snap January 15, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
Bring out the cold weather gear like this photographed at a vintage snowmobile show during a past Winterfest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

WITH AIR TEMPS DIPPING into the single digit subzero range and windchills at around minus 25 degrees on recent mornings in Minnesota, we’ve been in a bit of a cold snap. We’ll get a several-day respite of 30 degrees before temps plunge again, dipping to even colder early next week when an arctic front moves in.

All this cold got me thinking about ways to define a cold snap. It’s not only about the way it feels, but also how it sounds and looks, yes, looks.

Here’s how a cold snap feels: Like a slap on the cheeks. Biting, bitter, unbelievably cold. Exposed skin can freeze in 10-15 minutes.

The cold of a cold snap also feels like ice on bare feet during a night-time trip to the bathroom. But even before that, cold feels like I-don’t-want-to-get-out-of-bed-from-under-these-warm-covers-because-the-house-is-cold. Our thermostat is set at 62 degrees at night. Comfortable, except during a cold snap when outdoor air seems to infiltrate the indoors.

Legendary lumberjack Paul Bunyan has made wearing buffalo plaid flannel fashionable in Minnesota. Here he’s depicted on an ice machine outside Thurlow Hardware and Rental, Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

These are the days of layering, of pulling out the warmest flannel or fleece. I wear a tee, topped by a flannel shirt, topped by a sweatshirt or sweater. Randy has pulled out his heavy duty quilt-lined flannel shirt that visually widens his girth. Who cares about fashion? Not me. The goal is to stay warm.

In the evenings, with the thermostat set at 68 degrees, we find additional warmth under fleece throws or, whoever grabs it first, under an especially warm fleece-lined denim quilt. We opt not to crank up the heat in an effort to keep our energy bill down. Even with that, heating an old house with natural gas gets costly.

Chicken Wild Rice Soup, one of my favorite soups, served at a fundraiser in St. Peter years ago. I made a batch of this soup earlier this week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A cold snap feels like dry, itchy skin; aching joints; a parched throat. I’m drinking more water and tea. Water flowing from the tap first thing in the morning is ice cold. I’m cooking more soups and comfort foods like Chicken Wild Rice Soup and lasagna.

These deeply cold mornings, Randy warms the van before leaving for work. The sound of tires on the street past our house carries a sharpness and, if snow layers the pavement, tires crunch. Bitter cold holds a distinct, almost indescribable, sound.

Frost art on an upstairs window during a past winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Inside and outside, a cold snap is visible. I see it in the line of frost edging the bottoms of exterior doors. I pull a rag rug snug against the lower edge of the front door to block the draft. I see cold in the intricate frost patterns painted on bedroom windows upstairs.

These cold winter days have me dreaming of summer days at a central Minnesota lake cabin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

And when I look outside from my relatively warm house, it simply looks cold, the sky clear, the bright sunshine only an illusion of warmth. For many Minnesotans, though, warmth is a reality as residents escape to warmer places like Arizona, Texas and Florida. Whether for a week, a month or the entire winter, these vacationers and snowbirds seek a break from the bitter cold and snow of a Minnesota winter.

I can’t help but think about those experiencing homelessness, including right here in Faribault. Where are these individuals living, sleeping? Surely not in the tents I’ve seen pitched along the river bottom. In the metro area, facilities are opening as warming centers. So, yeah, even though I’m not fond of this cold snap, at least I have a home.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Winter’s Song,” memories, reflections & writing from Minnesota March 21, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:06 PM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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.

FYI: Winter’s Song—A Hymn to the North is a finalist for the 2024 Emilie Buchwald Award for Minnesota Nonfiction. Minnesota Book Award winners will be announced May 7. To listen to TD Mischke’s podcast, The Mischke Roadshow, click here.

 

Clutch of crocuses March 14, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , ,
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?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Uncovering spring in this non-winter in Minnesota March 12, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
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…

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Craving favorite comfort foods during a Minnesota winter February 28, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
A grilled cheese sandwich oozes processed cheese. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

THIS TIME OF YEAR, throughout the long stretch of winter months in Minnesota, I crave comfort foods. Food that warms me from the inside out. Food that fuels me with energy. Food that makes me feel better simply because it tastes so darn good. Basic, often carb-packed, foods that are staples of generations of Minnesotans.

Topping the list of comfort foods for me is tomato soup served with a grilled cheese sandwich. Both are easy to prepare. Nearly every Saturday from November to March, Randy opens and mixes a can of condensed tomato soup with milk before preparing accompanying sandwiches. He smears butter onto slices of bread, layers processed cheese between and toasts the bread to golden perfection in a frying pan. There’s nothing better for lunch on a cold Minnesota winter day than a bowl of steaming tomato soup with a sandwich oozing melting cheese.

A perfect comfort food lunch: homemade chicken wild rice soup with homemade bread. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Soup and chili are the ultimate comfort foods. There’s comfort in the scent of soup simmering on the stove, in the taste, in the act of wrapping hands around a bowl warmed by hot soup or chili. And then that first spoonful of chicken noodle soup or chicken white chili or tomato-based beef chili loaded with beans or chicken wild rice soup, all homemade. Ah. Every bite tastes of comfort. With the exception of tomato soup, all soups served in my house are homemade by me.

The same goes for macaroni and cheese, another ultimate comfort food. Years ago as a busy mom of three, I occasionally resorted to boxed mac and cheese in my hurry to get a meal on the table. But the unnatural yellow powdered cheese stirred into the cooked pasta was visually unappealing and didn’t taste any better than it looked. Today I make mac and cheese from scratch using evaporated milk, butter and shredded cheddar cheese. I love mac and cheese as much as any kid, unless, of course, theirs comes from a box.

A sandwich board outside the Belview Bar & Grill in southwestern Minnesota advertises some comfort food lunch offerings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I also love tator tots. We joke about Tator Tot Hotdish here in Minnesota. I haven’t made it in years. But I still like tots. Plain or, even better, topped with shredded cheddar cheese, a dollop of sour cream and bacon bits. Yes, it’s calorie-laden and likely not at all good for me. But, gosh, that combo pleases my palate like no casserole ever could except homemade Chicken Wild Rice Hotdish (not casserole), which I absolutely love.

A plate filled with comfort foods, including mashed potatoes and gravy, served at the annual harvest dinner at Trinity Lutheran Church, North Morristown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Potatoes are a comfort food. Whether shaped into a tot, mashed, baked or scalloped, potatoes are, for me, a comforting link to my childhood. I grew up eating meat, boiled potatoes with gravy and a side vegetable every night for supper, with rare exceptions. Our food came from our land, from our animals. It was good and wholesome, filling our stomachs, fueling our bodies to labor on the farm.

I recently tried a new banana bread recipe with a whole banana split length-wise and laid across the top of the batter. Delicious. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

I also find myself craving sweets during the winter. Banana bread and chocolate chip cookies fall into the comfort food category by my definition. A just-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie with melty chocolate or a slice of day-old banana bread satisfy my craving for something sugary. I try not to bake often, though, unless I’m shipping a care package to my son in Boston, the grandkids are coming or there’s a birthday to celebrate. Or the bananas on the counter are getting overripe.

Soon I will crave salads like this raspberry chicken salad from the Amboy Cottage Cafe in Amboy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

In a few months, comfort food will hold less appeal as winter transitions into spring. Then my food focus will turn to fresh asparagus, rhubarb and spinach salad topped with sliced cucumbers, portabella mushrooms, tomatoes and blue cheese made and aged in sandstone caves blocks from my house. I’ll eat healthier, feel less laden by heavy food. But when the seasons shift again to shorter and colder days, I’ll once again crave grilled cheese and tomato soup, mac and cheese, tator tots…all the foods that comfort during a long Minnesota winter.

Chocolate chip cookies baked by a friend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

TELL ME: What are your favorite comfort foods?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

February snow in a mostly snowless Minnesota winter February 16, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
The unshoveled sidewalk in front of my house stretches before me mid-morning Thursday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

VALENTINE’S DAY BROUGHT our first measurable snowfall since Halloween in this unusual snow-drought winter here in Minnesota. I haven’t missed snow, especially after last winter’s exceptional record snowfall that caused even the hardiest of Minnesotans to wonder if the snow would ever end.

A winter with minimal snow makes life all-around easier. I doubt anyone living in our state would deny that. It’s easier to navigate without snow-packed roads and sidewalks. Randy’s commute to work on icy roads Thursday morning took 50 minutes rather than the typical 32. And no snow also means less work as in no snow to blow, blade or shovel.

I used my new Snow Trax for the first time Thursday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2024)

Thursday morning I had about three inches of snow to clear, not much really by Minnesota standards. I bundled up, starting by pulling long johns on under jeans. Then I layered a fleece-lined sweatshirt over a tee and flannel shirt topped by a lightweight jacket. I clamped Snow Trax onto snow boots. A stocking cap and mittens completed the ensemble.

I headed out the back door into the garage to grab the scoop shovel and the wide-bladed plastic snow shovel. I knew it would take both to effectively clear snow.

Snow layers my neighbor’s evergreens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

It was a beautiful morning with a white landscape set against a backdrop bold blue sky. Snow outlined branches, layered evergreen boughs and seedheads. And the sun glittered diamonds across the snow. Anytime the sun shines in winter, I feel better. There’s something about sunshine that offsets even the coldest temperatures, the deepest snow, causing spirits to soar.

My distorted shadow on the snow-covered lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

As I pushed and scooped the snow from the sidewalk and driveway, I felt my stomach, leg and back muscles tightening. I worked at a steady pace, not pushing myself. Soon I found myself overheated. I unzipped my jacket, then the sweatshirt. I felt like I was sweating, even with a temp below 20 degrees. Shoveling snow, even if only a few inches, is a work out.

Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click. Melding with the scrape of the shovel and the click of studs on my Snow Trax was the splash of tires on the wet roadway. In February, the sun is strong enough to melt remaining ice and snow from hard surfaces cleared of initial snow. I wanted to get the snow off the sidewalk and driveway so the sun could melt the thin layer of ice and snow I couldn’t completely shovel away.

Remnants of a floral bouquet I received three weeks ago lie atop the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

I labored an hour shoveling snow, finishing on the south-facing patio. Randy grills year-round, so our patio always needs to be free of snow. As I pushed snow, I remembered the bouquet of mostly dead flowers I’d tossed out two days earlier. I pulled them from under the snow, laid them atop a patio table. The purples, pinks and greens contrasted against the virgin white snow, visually pleasing me.

On this Thursday, this day after Valentine’s Day, I didn’t mind the snow all that much. It felt, in a way, like the first snowfall of the season. Magical. Beautiful. And definitively more like Minnesota ought to appear in mid-February.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Winter, “real” winter, settles into Minnesota January 16, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
A winter scene photographed from Interstate 35 north of Faribault in 2019. Today’s landscape looks similar. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

“THERE, I LOCKED the cold outside,” he said upon securing the kitchen door before bedtime. My husband possesses a unique sense of humor. And on a brutally cold January evening with wind chills plummeting into the minus 30-degree range, humor is welcome, perhaps even necessary.

Fresh snow blown by strong winds created blizzard conditions in rural areas of Minnesota over the weekend, similar to this photographed in Rice County in January 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2020)

This is the winter some Minnesotans have awaited in a winter that has proven primarily warm and snow-less up until now. Then winter roared into Minnesota last weekend with blizzard warnings in the western part of the state, winter weather advisories and warnings elsewhere, and a much-touted snow event that didn’t quite deliver in my area. Strong winds and sub-zero temps followed.

I use these shovels to clear snow from the driveway and sidewalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2021)

I felt thankful for the minimal snowfall of some four inches since I am currently the resident snow remover, a task typically handled by Randy. He is on physical restrictions for five weeks following a surgical excision on his lower back. So, by default, I must shovel snow.

Randy blows snow with our aged snowblower following a 2019 winter storm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2019)

“I should have taught you how to use the snowblower,” Randy said as I slipped on a parka, boots, warm stocking cap and mittens (with hand warmers tucked inside), and wrapped a scarf across my face. I laughed. Our snowblower is massive, aged and not a machine I feel comfortable or capable of handling or maneuvering.

My warm winter boots. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Admittedly, I whined a bit. Not because of the shoveling, but rather the biting cold and bitter wind. As I pushed and tossed snow from the driveway and then the sidewalk, I felt my thumbs numbing. Soon I pulled them next to my fingers, clenching my hands into fists around the hand warmers.

As I worked, I determined I best change my attitude. Right then and there I re-framed my thoughts into one of gratitude that I could physically do this work. Not everyone my age can. Not everyone can due to other limitations. And not everyone has a partner who encourages with humor, even if I don’t always laugh.

Weather warnings like this one have popped up on phones around Minnesota in recent days. This warning was sent to my phone in February 2021. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2021)

Monday morning dawned bright with sun dogs, a temp of minus 10 degrees and a wind chill I didn’t even want to know. I wanted to stay snug inside my warm house. But Randy and I pushed ourselves to get out and drive across town to the Shattuck-St. Mary’s soccer dome for a morning walk. On the way there, Randy noted the crunch of our van tires, a phenomena that happens in subzero temps like this. It’s a sure indication that it’s dang cold outside as are those columns of light flanking the sun.

Pulling into the parking lot, I saw a lot of vehicles. After several days of really cold weather, cabin fever becomes a real feeling. The need to get out and move, just not outdoors, becomes a priority. We looped the soccer field six times, still wearing caps and gloves. It may be warm inside the dome, but not that warm.

I usually drink coffee in my Minnesota Moments mug. I freelanced for this magazine, no longer in publication. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2018)

Back home, I made coffee, loaded laundry in the wash, did some online tasks and texted friends before moving on to writing. I took a break later to empty the washing machine and carry the basket of clothes from the basement to the living room where I’d strategically positioned drying racks in front of heat vents.

“You’re not going to hang the laundry outside?” Randy joked from his comfy spot on the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I replied. Not even I, a diehard of hanging laundry on the line (sometimes even in January), would attempt to do so when the temp is seven degrees below zero. I would risk instant frostbite while the wet clothes froze stiff in my hands. The brilliant sun shining bright upon the snow could almost fool me into believing, though, that enough solar power shone to sun-dry laundry. Yet, the truth of winter in Minnesota—real winter—is this: A sunshine-filled day can be an illusion. It is the temperature, the wind chill, the crunch of tires on snow, the locking of the door against the cold, which reveals reality.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The art & sport of ice fishing in Minnesota January 9, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
Ice fishing themed neon art advertises Grain Belt beer, made by August Schell Brewing Co. in New Ulm, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2024)

IN THE UPSTAIRS ROOM of a small town southern Minnesota bar, I found myself drawn to the neon beer signs decorating the dark walls underscored by corrugated tin. The signs add an element of kitschy art to this space at The R Bar in Randolph where a group gathered for a holiday work party, Randy and I among them.

Ice anglers on Union Lake, rural Faribault, fish in the open on a sunny winter afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Next to the slim cooler holding an assortment of mass-produced beers and a few other drinks, I spotted neon signage that is about as Minnesotan as it gets—a bundled up ice fisherman pulling a fish through a hole in the ice, beer beside him.

Ice fishing on the Cannon River near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2023)

Winter in Minnesota, if this would be a typical winter, finds anglers pulling fish houses onto lakes or sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets to fish through holes drilled in the ice. But this has not been a usual winter here with temps (before this week) above normal and many lakes remaining open rather than frozen over. Several weeks ago, 122 anglers had to be rescued after ice broke away from the shore on Upper Red Lake in northern Minnesota. Following that, law enforcement officials restricted motorized vehicles from driving onto the lake until the ice consistently thickens to support motor vehicle traffic.

Ice fishing shacks are set up like a mini village on Lake Mazaska west of Faribault in Shieldsville. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I recognize this all sounds a bit odd to anyone unfamiliar with ice fishing. Vehicles, and we’re not talking just recreational vehicles, we’re talking mostly pick-up trucks, are driven onto the ice as anglers head for the hot fishing spots on our frozen lakes.

I myself engaged in the sport of ice fishing some 40 years ago, pre-children. Randy and I would sit inside his friend Jerry’s small ice shack warmed by a portable heater, play cards, drink beer and drop our lines into holes drilled through the ice. As the hours passed, we watched for our bobbers to tip in the frigid lake water, indicating a bite. I don’t remember catching many fish. But I recall the unsettling noise of cracking ice as Randy drove his Chevy pick-up truck across the icy lake and as we huddled inside the tight ice fishing hut.

The interior of an ice fishing house/camper, photographed several years ago at a sports show in Owatonna. Remove the lids and drop your line into the water on a frozen lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Much has changed through the decades. Fish houses have grown in size to almost mini cabins complete with kitchens and bunks to sleep overnight. This is a serious sport, big business in Minnesota. Of course, for those with more limited resources, tent-like pop-up portable fish houses remain an affordable option as does sitting on a cooler or a bucket under the winter sky.

A pop-up portable fish house at Pawn MN in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I doubt I will ever return to ice fishing. It doesn’t appeal to me like it did those winters, oh, so long ago. And I don’t trust the ice like I did back in the day when I was younger, less prone to considering ice thickness and safety. I’ve lived enough Minnesota winters to believe the warning, “No ice is ever completely safe.”

Drilling a hole in the frozen Cannon River to fish near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)

But I still celebrate ice fishing and its importance in Minnesota. It’s a favorite winter pastime/sport, especially for guys who seem intent on bonding over beers. It’s an important part of tradition and of our economy.

And, on this January evening, ice fishing is also an art form. I found it, here in The R Bar, the neon image of an ice fisherman glowing in this space of pool tables, tabletop shuffleboard, dart boards, high-top tables, a shiny wood-grain bar top, and a slim cooler holding Minnesota-made Grain Belt and other beer. This is winter in Minnesota, defined not by the light snow falling outside the bar, but by a neon symbol of fishing through a hole drilled in a frozen lake.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling