Source: Minnesota Department of Transportation Facebook page
SORRY, TAYLOR SWIFT, but you just missed getting a version of your name printed on a snowplow in Minnesota. That’s according to results of the 2022-23 Minnesota Department of Transportation’s Name a Snowplow Contest. “Taylor Drift” came in at number nine, right behind “Sleetwood Mac,” a tribute to Fleetwood Mac, a band especially popular in the 70s and 80s. With only a 476-vote difference, I suppose Swift could call for a recount.
Topping the winners’ list is “Yer a Blizzard, Harry,” a reference to Harry Potter. The name will go on a MnDOT snowplow assigned to southwest Minnesota.
Placing second is “Blizzo,” an obvious reference to superstar singer Lizzo, who lived in Minneapolis when launching her career. “Blizzo” will, rightfully so, grace an orange snowplow truck in the Twin Cities metro.
This contest, in its third year, has become quite a hit in Minnesota with 10,400-plus names submitted, then narrowed to 60 before polls opened to online voting. Suggestions that made the ballot were chosen based on uniqueness, Minnesota-specificity and frequency of submission. Some 64,000 people voted, able to select up to eight names. The top eight names will be emblazoned on eight plows in MnDOT’s eight districts.
“Scoop! There It Is” is going on a truck in my district of southeast Minnesota.
I was happy to see “Blader Tot Hotdish” coming in at number six. That was my personal favorite, a reference to Minnesota’s iconic Tater Tot Hotdish (aka “casserole” in other regions of the country). I’ll need to travel all the way to northwest Minnesota to see that moniker on a truck.
Minnesota is not the first cold weather place to have a little winter fun with snowplow tagging. Scotland apparently started this trend in 2006 seeking names for its “gritters,” as the plows are called. The Michigan Department of Transportation, the State of Vermont Agency of Transportation, and the cities of Indianapolis and Lafayette (where my son lives), Indiana, also hold snowplow naming competitions.
With winters as long as they are in places like Minnesota, I embrace the distraction of naming snowplows. When Taylor Swift rolls into Minneapolis for her sold-out concerts in late June, all the snow drifts should be gone. She’ll rank number one among fans packing U.S. Bank Stadium, fans who have likely long forgotten that “Taylor Drift” just missed going on a Minnesota road tour.
A railroad trestle crosses the Straight River by Fleckenstein Bluffs Park near downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
LINES AND LIGHT INTERSECT, layering the snowy landscape on a late afternoon in February.
I find even dried vegetation to be visually interesting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I am following the Straight River Trail in Faribault from Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. Daylight presses towards early evening with sunlight slanting, shadowing, scripting as I take in the woods, the river, the dried vegetation, then the hard lines of metal and stone.
When I look up, I see a bold blue sky backdropping treetops. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Birds chatter among the trees that border the trail, along the rambling river. I pause. Listen. Appreciate that these feathered creatures manage to survive winter in Minnesota. Even with temps reaching to 30 degrees on this day, I feel the cold.
Randy usually outpaces me as I stop often to take photos. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I move initially at an unhurried pace. Walk too fast and I miss too much. Randy is well ahead of me, yet he also hears the birdsong, notices the robins, chickadees, a lone woodpecker.
In a dip near the park, tracks in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Tracks mar the snow. Animal and human. I wonder about the wildlife that venture onto the river where snow meets ice, meets open water.
The poetic Straight River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
A pocked layer of thin ice nudges water which flows, rippling, curving with the topography. The creative in me reads poetry in the way the water wends. I am lost in the moment, in the scene, in the setting, in the wildness.
Lines cross this 120-year-old limestone building along the Straight River Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I press on, toward the aged limestone building hugging the trail. Diagonal lines—power and shadows—cross the stone on the boarded building with a misplaced modern garage door. This 1903 building originally housed Faribault Gas & Electric Company, supplier of power to Faribault via the Cannon Falls hydroelectric plant. Every time I view this building, I wish it could be restored, used in a way that celebrates its history.
The icy river is melting, opening to flowing water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
My thoughts meander here along the Straight River Trail. Focusing on history and nature and introspective observation.
I often meet dogs and their owners while walking the trails. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
But then a dog draws me back to reality. A massive canine, fluffy and white, leashed. His owner stops, allows me to pet his Great Pyrenees with the friendly face, and gorgeous long fur. Ducky. I assess that keeping him clean must be challenging. Ducky’s owner confirms, then continues on.
A sculpture, at least in my eyes, set against a snow-covered hillside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Cold bites at my exposed fingers as I retrace my path, heading back toward the park. I notice a sagging wire fence like graph paper gridding a snowy hillside. Single family homes and an apartment complex rise high above the trail, backyards revealing much in the nakedness of winter.
Boxcar art on exhibit as a train passes over the Straight River by Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Soon a shrill whistle cuts through the bluffs. I race to reach an opening in the woods where I can photograph a train as it crosses a trestle over the river. I miss the locomotive, focusing instead on the moving canvases of art created by transient artists.
Strong fence lines border the river overlook at Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I see art, too, in the fenced lines of a river overlook in the park, a space packed with snow and inaccessible in the winter.
When I’m walking, I appreciate curves in sidewalks and trails. I find them more appealing not only for following, but visually. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Then I curve along the sidewalk that rounds the playground before aiming back to the parking lot. I notice reflections of trees in puddles of melting snow. The bold blue sky. The way light bounces off the segmented walkway. I feel invigorated by all I’ve seen, by the sharp cold air, by the essence of time outdoors on a February afternoon in southern Minnesota.
The “Grumpy Old Men” DVD I checked out from my library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo February 2023)
The film “Grumpy Old Men” is undeniably one of the best films ever made in Minnesota. Why? Because it’s so Minnesota. The movie starring Walter Matthau, Jack Lemmon and Ann-Margret celebrates our winter, our small towns and our culture. And those are reasons enough for me to sing its praises. If you didn’t understand Minnesota before watching this film, you will afterwards.
This year marks the 30th anniversary of the movie’s 1993 release by Warner Brothers.
I recently re-watched “Grumpy Old Men,” checking the DVD out from my local library. Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly because I was a busy young mom three decades ago, I didn’t remember much of the movie. Two long-feuding friends in small town Wabasha, Minnesota, focus the storyline. When an attractive woman, Ariel Truax (Ann-Margret), moves in across the street from John Gustafson (Lemmon) and Max Goldman (Matthau), the two compete for her affections. The result is conflict, humorous and tender moments, and a focus on the sport of ice fishing in Minnesota.
A bench in Wabasha, featuring actors from the film “Grumpy Old Men.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2011)
This is truly a Minnesota film. Mark Steven Johnson, who was born in Hastings (just up the Mississippi River from Wabasha) and who attended Winona State University (just down the river from Wabasha and mentioned in the film) wrote the script and the sequel, “Grumpier Old Men.” Interestingly enough, although the movie is set in Wabasha, it was not filmed there, but at numerous other locations in Minnesota.
These tracks lead to the Rock Island Depot in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2018)
FILMED IN “THE FROZEN NORTH,” INCLUDING FARIBAULT
Those sites include my community of Faribault. The opening scene features a train roaring past a depot bannered with a Wabasha sign. In reality, this is the Rock Island Depot in Faribault, long-time home to the popular Depot Bar & Grill. At the beginning of the movie, the Congregational Church and adjacent parish house are shown.
The Poirier name (far right) remained on this building when I photographed it in 2013. It housed a pawn shop then and still today. That’s a portable red fish house outside the business. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2013)
Other Faribault scenes show our historic downtown, including a Coca Cola ghost sign, businesses along Central Avenue, and the exterior and interior of Poirier Pharmacy (now a pawn shop). Lemmon, Matthau and Ann-Margret performed a scene inside the vintage drugstore with built-in shelves stretching high. Several locals played extras.
Other film locations around Minnesota include houses in the Lake Phalen neighborhood of St. Paul, Half Time Rec (a bar) in St. Paul, Lake Rebecca in Rockford, Chisago Lake Lutheran Church in Center City, a park and overlook in Red Wing, and sound stages at Paisley Park (of Prince fame).
John Davis wrote in his production notes that shooting on-location in “The Frozen North” brought out the best in the team and end product. I agree. The outdoor scenes are authentic with snow piled high; icicles hanging from roof edges; snow and ice layering sidewalks; snowplows barreling down streets; a snowmobile buzzing through a neighborhood; windshield ice scraping; snow shoveling; making snow angels… No need to truck in snow during the Minnesota winter of 1993.
Fish houses create a mini village on frozen Lake Mazaska in Shieldsville (west of Faribault) in January 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
ICE FISHING, FLANNEL-WEARING AUTHENTIC MINNESOTAN
And then there is the ice fishing. Many comedic scenes unfold on the frozen lake, inside and outside the fish houses of lead characters Gustafson and Goldman. Writer Johnson tapped into memories of ice fishing with his grandpa to pen the script. As I watched the movie, I delighted in the polka music (Liar’s Polka, Oira Oira Polka…) that played as the anglers headed to the frozen lake. The upbeat tempo infuses an energy into the film that takes me back to long ago wedding dances in small town Minnesota community halls.
There’s so much Minnesota in “Grumpy Old Men.” Flannel shirts and ear flapper caps. Walleye mounts and crappies strung on a line. Supper, not dinner. Splitting wood with an ax. An air conditioner lodged in a second story window in winter. Red Wing boots and a six-pack of Schmidt beer and Minnesota-made SPAM (the meat). I noticed all of these details in my second viewing of this film. I appreciate that I watched the movie with a more discerning eye, appreciating the, oh, so many authentic Minnesotan aspects of a movie that celebrates life and winter in Minnesota.
A promo for the Fireside Chat with “Grumpy Old Men” script writer Mark Steven Johnson. (Graphic credit: Grumpy Old Men Festival Facebook page)
LET THE ANNIVERSARY PARTY BEGIN
Wabasha celebrates its 30th annual Grumpy Old Men Festival on February 24 and 25. There’s a lengthy list of events, including a Grumpy Old Men Fishing Tournament, a Grumpy Best Dressed Contest, a Hot Dish (Minnesota lingo for casserole) Luncheon, Grumpy Old Men Ice Bar at Slippery’s Bar and Grill (referenced, but not seen, in the film), a fireside chat with script writer Mark Steven Johnson and much much more. Click here for a complete list of festival events.
Chisago Lake Lutheran Church in Center City will hold a “Grumpy Old Men” Worship Service at 9 am on Sunday, February 12. The service is open to anyone, not just men, and not just grumpy men. Attendees are invited to wear their favorite flannel shirts and jeans and to put a fishing lure in their hats. Click here for more information.
Treacherous winter driving conditions along Minnesota State Highway 19 just north of Vesta in southwestern Minnesota in January 2013. These weather conditions are not uncommon on the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted and edited file photo 2013)
WINTER IN MINNESOTA can be decidedly difficult in the sort of way that challenges us to either adjust, adapt or embrace, or flee to Arizona, Texas or Florida.
That got me thinking. If you’re not from the Bold (Cold) North, you may be unfamiliar with our winter weather obsession and terminology. Wind chill is an oft-referenced word in Minnesota winter weather forecasts. Defined, that’s the feels like temp on skin when wind meets air temperature. The result is not pleasant with repeated warnings of exposed flesh can freeze in just minutes. That’s the time to layer up, don long johns, pull out the heavy parka or down coat, shove hands into mittens (not gloves), wrap your face and neck in a scarf, clamp on a warm hat and lace lined boots over thick wool socks. Or stay indoors. Just for the record, recent Minnesota wind chills have been between 20-35 degrees below zero.
Experts, like the Minnesota Department of Public Safety, advise us to carry winter survival kits in our vehicles and to stay inside should we become stranded or go off the road. Call for help and wait. Exiting your vehicle is risky as in risk becoming disoriented and lost in a snowstorm if in a rural area or risk being hit by a vehicle if your vehicle slides into the ditch along a busy interstate. Just recently a driver was struck while doing exactly that; he’ll be OK.
Ice fishing on Union Lake in Rice County. Some anglers don’t fish in houses, but rather in the open air, sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
YES, MINNESOTANS REALLY DO DRIVE ONTO FROZEN LAKES
Regarding risk, Minnesotans continue to participate in a sem- risky winter sport. Ice fishing. As absurd as this sounds to those who have never lived in a cold weather state, this is the sport of angling for fish on a frozen lake. It can be (mostly) safe if anglers follow basic rules for ice safety, the first being that no ice is ever 100 percent safe and know your lake. The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources offers basic ice thickness guidelines such as stay off ice less than four inches thick. If it’s four inches thick, you can walk on lake ice. Nine to 10 inches of ice will support a small car or SUV. You’ll need 16-17 inches to drive a heavy truck onto a frozen lake and so on. Every winter vehicles plunge through the ice and people lose their lives on Minnesota lakes.
Yet, we Minnesotans continue to embrace the sport, exercising caution. Clusters of simple pop-up temporary day houses to homemade wooden shacks to fancy sleep-overnight factory models create mini villages on our frozen lakes. Anglers hang out therein, drilling holes in the ice, drinking beer, playing cards and doing whatever while waiting for the fish to bite. Decades have passed since I participated in this winter sport. But I did. It was the cracking noise of the ice that got to me.
Randy shovels snow from our house rooftop during a previous winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
PENGUINS, FIRE & UP ON THE ROOFTOP
Ice. I quite dislike that aspect of winter. And we’ve had a lot of ice this winter on roads, sidewalks, parking lots, every hard surface. As I age, my fear of falling and breaking a bone is real. I deal with ice by either staying off it or walking like a penguin.
Recently I observed my neighbor trying to remove ice from his driveway with fire fueled by a small portable propane tank. It was the weirdest thing—to see this flame in the black of evening aimed downward onto his cement driveway. It didn’t work well. The next evening, two of them were out chipping at ice the old-fashioned way with a long-handled bladed tool designed for that purpose.
Yes, we chip ice from our sidewalks and driveways. We shovel snow from our roofs in an effort to prevent ice dams (of which there are many this winter). Getting through a Minnesota winter, especially one as snowy as this season, requires fortitude and effort.
This oversized Minnesota driver’s license hangs above a rack of buffalo plaid flannel and other shirts at the A-Pine Restaurant near Pequot Lakes in the central Minnesota lakes region, aka Paul Bunyan land. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
CELEBRATING PAUL BUNYAN STYLE
Winter here also requires plenty of flannel, our unofficial winter attire. I recently purchased two flannel shirts to replace two that I’d worn thread-bare. I love my flannel. It’s comfy and cozy and warm and makes me feel Paul Bunyan authentic. If you’re unfamiliar with Paul, let me explain. He’s a legendary lumberjack, a symbol of strength and endurance. And he wears red buffalo plaid flannel. My community even celebrates flannel with the Faribault Flannel Formal, set for 5:30-9 pm Saturday, March 11, at Craft Beverage Curve (10,000 Drops Craft Distillers and Corks & Pints)). And, yes, that means attendees wear flannel, sample hotdishes (the Minnesota term for casseroles) and participate in lumberjack games. Yeah, sure, ya betcha. This is how we survive winter in the Bold (Cold) North.
NEWS THAT VOTING has opened for the Minnesota Department of Transportation’s “Name a Snowplow” contest came at just the right time—as two clipper systems bring more snow into a state already overwhelmed by snowfall this winter. Voting comes also as the coldest air since mid-December is about to descend, dropping temps to below zero this weekend in most parts of Minnesota.
It’s been quite the winter. So this MnDOT contest is providing a humorous mental respite from the cold and snowy reality of January in Minnesota, with three months of winter to go.
Three years ago MnDOT launched its first snowplow naming competition, inviting the public to submit names for the big orange trucks that clear our state highways of snow and ice. This year 10,000 names were submitted, which have been narrowed down to 60 choices. Online voting is open until midnight, Friday, February 3. The winning names will grace eight snowplows in MnDOT’s eight districts.
I breezed through the names, quickly choosing my top three. Participants can vote for up to eight. I chose Blader Tot Hotdish (a reference to Minnesota’s culinary delight, Tator Tot Hotdish), Orange You Glad to See Me (picked for obvious reasons) and Spirit of ‘91 (a reference to the Halloween Blizzard of 1991, a multi-day blizzard which dumped single storm record snowfalls throughout the state; three feet in Duluth).
I love this diversion from talking solely about the weather, as we Minnesotans are inclined to do, especially in winter.
This contest also puts a positive spotlight on MnDOT, which too often delivers the bad news of road closures, crashes, road construction, impossible driving conditions and more. “Name a Snowplow” is, simply put, genius creative marketing.
Randy starts down the driveway with the snowblower following a past snow event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2020)
WAY TO GO, MINNESOTA! We are living up to our reputation as a snowy state. With more than three months of winter remaining, we’ve already surpassed our seasonal annual average snowfall of 51.2 inches by an inch.
Our 2022-2023 seasonal to-date total of 52.1 inches (recorded in the Twin Cities) likely comes as no surprise to anyone who lives in the North Star State. Winter storm after winter storm after winter storm has left us, or at least me, feeling winter-weary. Once again Thursday evening I donned my winter wear, pulled on my practical winter boots and headed outdoors to assist Randy with snow removal. This time some seven inches of new-fallen snow.
The tree shovels we use to removal snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2021)
I work the three shovels while Randy guides our massive hefty ancient snowblower down the sidewalk and driveway. There are places a snowblower can’t go and those spots—the front sidewalk and steps and along the side of the garage by the garbage cans and recycling bin—are my responsibility. I’m happy to help. Well, maybe not exactly happy, but rather willing.
Randy advised me to be careful around the garage due to ice. I appreciated his warning as the last thing I need is to slip, fall and break a bone or suffer a concussion. That’s a concern for both of us as we age. I read a recent report that, if you’re over the age of 45, you should leave the snow shoveling to someone else. I just laughed. While reasonable health advice, it’s not exactly practical for most Minnesotans.
I take baby steps while traversing snow and ice, the penguin shuffle I believe is the proper term. Yet, I realize that’s no guarantee of safety. I also pace myself while shoveling. Thankfully our Wednesday into Thursday snow was low in moisture content, thus light and easy to shovel and blow. It’s the heavy snow that makes for challenging and health-risky snow removal.
It could always be worse… A huge, hard-as-rock snowdrift blocked our driveway in this March 1965 photo taken on my childhood farm, rural Vesta, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 1965)
But I encountered a new problem on Thursday. On several occasions, the snow I tossed with a scoop shovel tumbled right back onto the surface from which I’d just removed it. The problem: The snow is now banking so high along sidewalk and driveway edges that it needs to be strategically thrown. High enough and far enough.
Once we’d finished our snow removal assignments, Randy and I worked on clearing the driveway of snow down to the concrete. Part of the front metal scraper is broken off our aged snowblower, meaning a layer of snow now remains. Thursday evening I used the wide metal shovel and Randy the plastic one as we attempted to get under the snow and peel it away. Sometimes that approach worked well, sometimes not.
This image expresses how I feel about the ongoing snowfall in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
We remained cognizant of ice underneath. Randy advised caution near the down spout and I pointed out a patch of black ice where the concrete dips. In the end, we did the best we could and called it done…until the next winter storm rolls into southern Minnesota.
A year ago, the grandkids were into “PJ Masks.” This is Owlette. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2022)
KEEPING UP WITH THE GRANDKIDS’ evolving interests can prove challenging. I’m not up on the newest kids’ shows and trends. And just when I think I’ve learned all the latest from first grader Isabelle, especially, and 4-year-old Isaac, they are on to something new. But right now they are focused on dinosaurs and the solar system, both timeless topics.
The pair stayed overnight with us recently as much for Grandma and Grandpa solo time as for their parents having time together without kids. It’s a win-win all around.
At least I know something about space. Here the moon rises. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2020)
The sleep-over was a last-minute decision, meaning we mostly winged it for the weekend. I did, however, stop at the library for a pile of dinosaur and solar system books and a few videos for those moments when the exhausted grandparents needed to rest.
Grandpa and Isaac inside their backyard snow fort. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
When the kids asked to play outside in the snow, we obliged. I forgot, though, how much work it is to get a 4-year-old into winter gear for outdoor play. Grandma and Grandpa bundled up, too, for the backyard adventure. When Randy pulled the scoop shovel and two 5-gallon buckets from the garage and started building a snow fort, I was surprised. Hadn’t he already scooped enough snow this winter? What grandpas won’t do for their grandchildren.
Occasionally we helpers helped the master mason by locating chunks of frozen snow to layer onto the fort walls. It was a process, impeded once by Isaac who scrambled over the wall, partially deconstructing it in the process.
At one point, Isabelle decided we should play snow tag. That would be regular tag played in the snow, doncha know, Grandma? Ah, of course. Easy for the little ones who don’t break through the snow. Not so easy for the heavier elders whose boots plunge through the snow surface.
Grandpa and grandkids climb the hill in our backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Thankfully I managed to avoid the mountain-climbing aspect of our time in the backyard. But Grandpa, Isabelle and Isaac headed up the hill behind our house with Izzy intending to hike all the way to the park at the very top. Grandpa put a halt to that, recognizing that thorns, branches and assorted dangers threatened as the wooded hill steepened. We did not want to risk an emergency room visit.
Fortunately, distraction still works with our grandkids. Oversized rabbits loping across the snowy hillside proved entertaining. A hole in the snow near the fort invited guesses as to what animal dug into the snow. A squirrel was suspect and I noted the following day that was a correct assumption upon watching a squirrel dive head first into the snow and emerge a bit later with a walnut. When I shared my observation in a text to my eldest daughter, Izzy expressed her concern that the bushy tail rodent might destroy the fort. “Grandpa worked hard on that!” she told her mom. She’s right. He did.
Time with my grandkids invigorates me. I view the world from their perspective. They are inquisitive, adventuresome, approaching life with wonderment. They teach me to pause, to be in the moment. When Isaac drew a spaceship on his sort of modern day version of the Etch-a-Sketch (except with a “pen” and button to erase his art), I learned that the two of us were blasting off into space. His sister? Nope. She was staying behind because she is a paleontologist. Ah, yes, that’s right. Across the room Isabelle played with a herd of dinosaurs, or whatever a mixed group of dinosaurs is termed.
Isaac chose oranges over ice cream. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2011)
I don’t pretend to know everything. I didn’t know Isabelle attends first grade in a building built for 600 students, not the 900 it houses. I didn’t know Isaac would choose an orange over ice cream for a bedtime snack and then three days later ask to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for ice cream. But I do know these things: I love these two little people beyond measure. I love any time with them. Simply put, I love being a grandma.
Randy follows the winding trail along the Cannon River through North Alexander Park in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
ON THE FIRST DAY of the new year, before Minnesota’s first big winter storm of 2023, Randy and I followed the paved trail along the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. It’s one of my favorite walking paths, if the wind isn’t blowing biting cold off the frozen river.
I appreciate that the City of Faribault keeps the trail free of snow and ice. That’s always a concern for me. I don’t want to risk falling and breaking a bone.
On this first afternoon in January, I pulled my Canon EOS 60D from the camera bag with hopes of getting some interesting shots. Photographing in winter always proves challenging in a landscape mostly devoid of color. But on this day, blue skies accented with puffs of white clouds provided a backdrop contrast.
Dried milkweed pods rise from the riverbank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Still, finding scenes to photograph takes effort and an eye for detail. I zoomed in on dried weeds along the shoreline, where the riverbank is nearly indistinguishable from the snow-layered Cannon.
Person-made sculpture or random chunk of icy snow? (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
And then I noticed, on a riverside picnic table, an icy sculpture. It appeared intentionally placed there, although it could have been thrown onto the tabletop by a snowblower and simply have been a chunk of snow that happened to resemble an animal. Whatever, I found the art interesting, worthy of my pause.
Oak leaves cling to branches. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Pausing seems a necessity of January photography in Minnesota. I stopped to study trees, noting stubborn oak leaves clinging to branches as if defying winter.
Treetops against a textured sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
I saw, too, how barren branches curve in graceful bends unseen in the fullness of other seasons. Trees possess a certain sculptural beauty when posed in winter nakedness.
I’ve always loved this “BLANKETS” ghost sign on the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Across the river, the iconic 1892 Faribault Mill (formerly the Faribault Woolen Mill; it recently acquired a cotton mill in Maine) stands as a symbol of endurance and history. Inside the mill, craftspeople create quality woolen blankets and more that are acclaimed world-wide. I never tire of focusing on this local landmark which merges with the Cannon.
Walking the dogs before the Vikings-Packers game. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
My walk with Randy, who was well ahead of me given all my photographic lagging, proved a much-needed break to stretch my muscles, to breathe in the crisp air of January. As we aimed back toward the van, my fingers numbing from the cold exposure, we met a Green Bay Packers fan walking his dogs. His green and gold attire tipped me to his football allegiance. I greeted him, but, with head phones clamped on, he didn’t reply. Maybe that was for the best given the Packers 41-17 win over the Minnesota Vikings hours later.
The snow-chunked river bank meets frozen Cannon River meets Faribault Mill in the distance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
I missed the game kick-off, not that I care given my general lack of interest in football. But occasionally I pause to take in the scene, to see the fans in their Vikings attire, to listen to their rising SKOL chant, to appreciate the details, just as I do with my Canon along the Cannon.
Paul Bunyan chainsaw art in Hackensack, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2017)
WHEN WINTER WALLOPS MINNESOTA, Minnesotans get resourceful. Or at least that proved true for Randy on Saturday morning when he suited up in his Dickies coveralls and assorted winter gear to remove snow from the end of the sidewalk.
Before he exited the house, I advised him to pace himself given his age and the knowledge that the snow deposited by the city plow would be heavy. We had no idea.
Legendary Paul Bunyan is seen often in central and northern Minnesota, here on an ice machine outside Thurlow Hardware and Rental in Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2018)
I watched from the window while Randy tossed scoopfuls of rock hard snow onto ever-growing mounds banking the sidewalk. He seemed to be following my take-it-easy advice by occasionally pausing to rest. But then he stopped, headed up the street toward the driveway, then the garage. I figured he was coming inside to warm up.
Not so. Rather he walked out of the garage with an ax. Yes, the tool used to fell trees, split wood or in the recreational competition of ax throwing.
It didn’t take long to see what Randy had in mind. Soon he was swinging the ax into the snow wall lodged at sidewalk’s end. The moisture-heavy snow bladed there by the city plow froze overnight, making it impossible to shovel without first splitting the solid chunks. Unbelievable.
Randy worked tirelessly swinging the ax blade into the rock pack. Swing. Swing. Swing. Then he set the ax aside, grabbed the scoop shovel and flung the snow rocks aside. He repeated the process until the sidewalk end was cleared.
A Paul Bunyan liquor bottle photographed in 2018 at Sarah’s Uniques & Jim Mantiques in St. Charles. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2018)
In all the decades of removing snow, and I’ve done plenty of snow-clearing, too (including sidewalk and driveway ends), we’ve never resorted to using an ax. But Paul Bunyan would have been proud of Randy’s resourcefulness. To survive in Minnesota, you sometimes need to think like a legendary lumberjack.
Clearing snow from a parked car along Willow Street near my home Wednesday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
HERE IT IS, only a few days into 2023 and Minnesota has already experienced its first major multi-day winter weather event of the new year. Snow. Ice. Freezing rain. Sleet. Drizzle. Everything.
With four months of winter remaining, I am already weary of snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
This storm comes on the heels of a major pre-Christmas snowstorm that essentially shut down travel in the southern half of our state. The fall-out is much the same. Snow-packed, icy roads. Crashes and spin-outs. Schools closed. Flights delayed and cancelled. A Delta jet from Mexico slid off an icy taxiway early Tuesday evening at Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. No one was injured.
Snow layers on everything from trees to power and telephone lines. There were power outages in some parts of Minnesota, but not in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Tuesday and Wednesday were a weather mess here. Randy’s commutes, typically a 35-minute drive, took nearly an hour. He drove on several miles of a snow-covered state highway untouched by a snowplow blade and on snow-compacted, icy roads the remainder of the way.
The name on this plow blade indicates this plow truck driver means business when it comes to quick and easy snow removal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
And then we had to deal with removing snow from our sidewalk and driveway. We are fortunate to own a snowblower. But it is ancient, bulky, subject to break-downs. Sheered pins. A metal ground plate so rusty that Randy finally removed it.
A City of Faribault snowplow truck passes through my neighborhood Wednesday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Heavy, wet snow like this is difficult to blow. The chute clogs, requiring frequent stops to clear the snow with something other than a hand. Chunks of snow bladed from the street into the ends of the driveway and sidewalk can’t be blown. That requires back-breaking shoveling. I felt like I was lifting rocks as I bent, scooped, heaved the heavy, moisture-laden snow atop the ever-growing mounds banking the drive and sidewalk ends. I paced myself, cognizant of my age and this heavy snow being “heart attack” or “widow maker” type snow.
Snowplow trucks have been out in full force for two days clearing snow from residential and business properties. I photographed this truck on Willow Street Wednesday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
Just as I’d nearly finished clearing the driveway end, the guy removing snow from my neighbor’s property with a utility vehicle pushed the remaining snow away from our driveway. I felt such gratitude for this act of kindness. I leaned on the scoop shovel handle with a thankful heart.
As I type this late Wednesday morning, snow continues to fall, as it did overnight. The snow removal of yesterday will repeat today. The ends of the driveway and sidewalk are once again blocked by snow chunks plowed from the street.
Snow layers a neighbors’ yard, tree and fence as snow falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2023)
But when I look beyond that to the woods behind my house, to my neighbors’ trees and bushes and rooftops, I glimpse a winter wonderland. This landscape layered in snow is lovely. Almost like paint-by-number artwork. That is the scene I need to remember when I’m out shoveling later and muttering words best left unwritten about winter storms in Minnesota.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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