View from a Prairie Home

By Hege Herfindahl, Columnist

My daughter, Ingvild, is a library director at Dodge Centre, Minn. Every fall she therefore goes to a library conference for a week. Last year the library conference was in Reno, Nev. This year it was in Chattanooga, Tenn. She always comes home from these conferences feeling inspired and renewed, which should be the purpose of any work related conference.

And since Ingvild’s husband, Patrick, died two years ago, we now stay with her kids while she is gone. Now, her eldest, Anders, is a freshman at St. Olaf College in Northfield, leaving only two kids at home. They are both teenagers, so they are busy. But since they are good kids (all our grandchildren are good kids) we don’t really have to worry about them getting into trouble, we just have to keep track of all their activities and take them there. In addition, now we have a third grandchild, Ove, close by in Rochester. So we went there almost every day to see how he was doing at his new school. 

We went to soccer games, orthodontist appointments, driver’s ed. classes and dance lessons. We also took Ingvild’s kids to school every day, since teenagers really don’t have time to ride the bus. In between we had to make sure they ate at regular times and got enough sleep to be ready for their busy days. Luckily, they didn’t have to be reminded to do their homework, since, as mentioned above, they are perfect. 

The week sped by. Ingvild came back, full of stories, but feeling tired after her trip. And the next day, after another short trek to Rochester, we started the four hour trip home. It is a trip we take often and can practically do in our sleep. But sugar beet harvest had started, so there were many semis on the road. So it took longer than usual. And Grant had to make it to another meeting, so we were a little rushed. 

Coming from lush south eastern Minnesota, where rain is plentiful most of the time, to our drought-stricken farm was surprisingly comforting. The familiar sights and sounds. Not of cars but of birds. Not of neighboring houses but of trees. The lawn was yellow, but my flowers were vibrant thanks to my amazing friends. I started the sprinkler and went into the house to unpack. I emptied the withered flowers in the kitchen and went out to pick new ones. The chrysanthemums are in their glory now. As are the sedums. The leaves of our many ash trees are turning yellow.

I decided to check on my garden. There are ripe tomatoes everywhere. I have tiny yellow ones that are sweet and taste better than even chocolate. I picked a pail full to munch on later and went back outside. I was inspired. I picked bigger tomatoes, celery and cabbage. I put the tomatoes in boiling water to get the skin off. Then I went into the potting shed where my onions are stored on old screens. I don’t need a recipe to make tomato soup.

That evening, we sat outside on our patio under a big oak tree. We had soup, bread and a glass of good wine. The sun set in a red sky in the west. When the stars came out, we sat there a little while longer without turning on any outside lights, gazing up and thanking the Good Lord for our humble home on the prairie.