The Flickr Goodhuecountyminnesota Image Generatr

Animal fashion show to be held at the Cattle Arena at the Pierce County Fairgrounds in Ellsworth Wisconsin Sunday June 1st, 2025

Poster photographed at the Amtrak Depot
Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 24th, 2025

1 cup cattail pollen
1 cup unbleached flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 and 1/2 cups milk
2 Tablespoons butter melted

To gather cattail pollen (they usually bloom about June), cover the plant's spike with a paper bag, bend the plant so the top of the bag can be grasped around stem with one hand; shake the bright yellow powder into the bag. Sift pollen through a fine sieve before using.

To make pancakes, sift together in a mixing bowl the cattail pollen, flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour into it the eggs and milk. Mix only to blend, then stir in the melted butter.

Cook 2 to 3 minutes or until small bubbles form on the surface of the pancake, turn and cook other side. Serve with melted butter and maple syrup.

Enough for 4 people

Recipe discovered in an old wild game cookbook at an antique store,

Pottery Place
Red Wing Minnesota
Monday May 26th, 2025

Photographed in Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 24th, 2025

Artist: Brayden Hanisch

Painting photographed at Hanisch Bakery
Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 17th, 2025

I've had the opportunity to see and photograph some of Brayden's work and he's good, and I mean REALLY GOOD! (He's 17).

My wife and I really enjoy his work and can't wait to see what he does next!

Photographed at the 2025 Poet Artist Collaboration
Red Wing Arts
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Artist: Rachel Coyne
Acrylic

Rachel Coyne Is a writer and painter from Lindstrom Minnesota. Her surrealist pieces center women and advocate for a more equitable world. Garden Cemetery's reference to the loss of a sister was an important inspiration for this piece.

Relationships between sisters can be rock solid, fraught with sadness or honestly both at the same time. Sisters are witnesses to our lives, our better and shadow selves, burdens and possibilities.

Poem: Garden Cemetery
Poet: Amie Stager

There's a garden next to the cemetery where my sister is buried

When it's time for me to become dust again
bury me next to her
And plant something living across the fence

Touch the soil and make life bloom and burst
make medicine
make love

We've been underground for a while
but the soil is alive with prophecy
the earth is always, always speaking:

Keep breathing, baby

Note from the poet

For me, poetry lets grief come to the surface for air. My Guardian Angel Keli Jo died before I was born. I inherited this loss from our family. She's here with us today and was with us when our dad died. It feels like both spirits were stolen from us too soon. This poem is an offering to our family and to our earth for what we have lost in the past few years.

Photographed in Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 17th, 2025

Photographed in Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 17th, 2025

Recipe discovered in an old Wisconsin cookbook from 1977
Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday May 17th, 2025

1–6-pound carp
1 onion
1 teaspoon tarragon
1/2 lemon sliced

3 cups cooked carp meat (boned)
5 slices chopped bacon
1 chopped onion
2 cups diced cooked potatoes
1 quart milk
4 soda crackers (crushed fine)
Butter, salt and pepper to taste, crushed basil


Poach carp in water, onion, tarragon and sliced lemon with the peel left on, until the fish is nearly done. Remove from heat, drain and pick the meat from the bones.

Brown the bacon; remove the skillet and add the onion; sauté until tender, but not brown. Drain off any fat. Return bacon to skillet, add the fish, cooked potatoes and heat. Add milk and heat until hot but not boiling. Remove from heat and stir in the soda cracker crumbs, then salt, pepper and butter. Serve in bowls with a bit of crushed basil on each serving. Serve with garlic bread,

Recipe donated by Mrs. Delbert W. Heschke, Tomahawk Wisconsin

Doing some research on this recipe, I discovered the obituary for Mrs. Heschke

Pearl Almira Guther Heschke

Pearl A. Heschke, 83, of 1012 Bridge St, Tomahawk, died on Thursday, October 19, 1995 at the Golden Age Nursing Home in Tomahawk.

She was born on January 4, 1912 in Tomahawk. She married Delbert W. Heschke on June 3, 1940.

While living in Tomahawk, Pearl attended Tomahawk High School and Lincoln County Normal School. Pearl had been a teacher at Lilly Lake School and Sport Falls School. She was a member of St. Paul's Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Ladies Aid of the church and of the L.W.M.L.

Surviving Pearl are her husband Delbert, and one sister Viola Reinecke, of Wisconsin Rapids. She was preceded in death by her parents, one brother and one sister.

Funeral services were held on Saturday, October 21, 1995 at St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tomahawk. The Rev. Mark Schoenherr officiated. Burial was in Greenwood Cemetery, Tomahawk.

Photographed at The Barrel House
Red Wing Minnesota
Saturday November 7th, 2020

Sign Photographed at Kenyon Meats
Kenyon Minnesota
Friday May 2nd 2025

Photographed at Kenyon Meats
Kenyon Minnesota
Friday May 2nd, 2025

Seen on a westbound Canadian Pacific freight
Friday April 18th, 2025

Artist: Bruce Hecksel
Acrylic

Photographed at the 2025 Poet Artist Collaboration
Red Wing Arts
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Artist comments: On this frozen pond, wrestling with grief and keeping upright in the face of duality, I zoomed out on this ice walker, glowing in the setting sun, surrounded in natural beauty, filled with grace due to nothing other than being in the moment.

Nature itself lovingly provides this transparent sheet that we can look down into the darkness and also bask in the sunlight. The landscape endlessly refreshes and inspires the spirit.


Poem: The Pond
Poet: Mary Kelly

I.
There is the pond.
It's frozen surface rippled.
Undulated dripped glass
framed with dry grass

I have been walking fast
trying to get my pace
to match my heartbeat,
trying to calm myself.
To make sense
of the forces unleashed
when my brother died.

But not that really--
trying to keep a steady stride
in the faces of those forces

Here at the pond,
it's gray to white surface,
the way light moves unevenly--
is shut out, then reappears
on another section--
it is clear to me
that no one could possibly
skate across it the first time.

II.
And I am wondering tonight what keeps us upright.
What lets the chaff fall down around us,
disarms words meant for harm,
binds the unbreakable human spirit.
It is not morality, but closer to the ground,
deeper in the core. The thing that gives morality.

To choose to contain this world.
All of its raw screaming, and its calm, drifting beauty:
every child, clump of dirt, bird, building, stream, tree.
Every joy and celebration, every pain, consternation,
point of view, agenda, evil action.

Every person lost,
every person on their feet.

Poet Comments: While serving as the executor of my brother's estate, I was introduced to an unexpected level of disappointing behavior.

I was trying to transverse all the human dynamics and get the job done, while running between Minneapolis and Milwaukee. In despair, I went for a winter walk where I realized I could not win, but that something higher in life is always available to me and I choose that

Not quite sure what it says but I love the dinosaur skull on the end of car

Photographed on a westbound Canadian Pacific freight
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Photographed at the 2025 Poet Artist Collaboration
Red Wing Arts
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Artist: Connie Ludwig
Acrylic


Artist Comments: This poem is Soooo sensual - I can't do it justice. So, I settled on the obvious, a long-stemmed apple in a green world. Note the fluttering heart shapes and the worm hole. I tried to keep them subtle

Poet: Becky Boling
Poem: Apple

You are the apple
long-stemmed
I climb a ladder
to pick
from a tired tree.

Your deep red
cried stop.
Green leaves
fluttered
like Victorian
virgins as if
to shield
your sweet promise.

You are the apple
and I will eat you
to the core
teeth biting
bruised skin
breathing
your apple sigh
tasting
spring rain
hot summer guests
from the sea-salt gulf
long days' golden light
fireflies' ghostly stars.

You are my blood-red
apple love I plucked
alive from the Green
world, and I mean
to devour
you whole
worm and all.

Poet's comments: This poem was inspired by a bowl of apples at a hotel buffet in Pennsylvania. I picked the best one, thought how delicious it would be, and longed for my husband who had not come with me on this trip to accept a poetry prize. How sweet life was, How I missed him.

Photographed at the 2025 Poet Artist Collaboration
Red Wing Arts
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Artist: Katherine Gotham
Oil


Artist Comment: The poem "Painting Frida" does a wonderful job of capturing the mix of dedication and inspiration that drives both the artistic process and perhaps life itself.

The poem begins as a kind of still-life painting that sets the scene with a collection of vividly described objects, Many of which i incorporate into my painting "Waiting Not-So-Patiently."

The poem is rich with growing living plants that I visually connected to form an arc above Frida's head. I chose to position the butternut squash next to the blank paper and pen because both are waiting "not-so-patiently" for those mysterious "chemical reactions" to occur.

And the paint-by-number portrait of Frida emerges from an open frame to show how painting Frida again and again transforms her into a living presence in the room. A living Frida that encourages us all to love and accept ourselves more and more.

Poem: Painting Frida
Poet: Amelia Colwell

My room of one's own
has a purple paint streak across the table,
Half a dozen butternut squash
ripening side by side,
their chonky squash butts
gently nudging one another,
reflecting tiny chemical reactions back and forth
between their butternut skin, ripening

The smell of wet earth and loam
Hedera in two different colors - one green and promising,
the other a deep plum, and through she is closer to death,
she looks the healthiest she's ever been.

I can see why Virginia insisted we get this room
the light slanting in, mid-morning
My kid off to public school on a bus that picked him up five doors down
The house and this room all to myself,
the January work of taking seed inventory
Writing notes from last season: what grew, what died, what challenges remained?
waiting not-so-patiently for May's burst of growth and energy

The smell of wet earth indoors
is alarmingly, stunningly good
The muscari blooms like tiny blue bells
ringing in the water
They're right in front of the heat vent
so it's easy to forget
this precarious life
would wilt and sag, were it, 15 feet to the east.

Just write, they say
It doesn't matter what it's about or how shitty the first draft is.
But do they live alone?
Do their houses ever get silent enough
for the darkest of ideas to surface?

Just paint Frida Kahlo, over and over
they don't say but
Her image is the only female face
in paint-by-number kits
So, I'm painting Fridas one by one
each time loving her face more and more

Poet's Comment: My poem riffs on Virginia Woolf's quote: "A woman must have... a room of her own if she has to write..."

It's about being alone with your thoughts and finding beauty to keep despair from taking over. It's about noticing our ecosystem and seasonal work and rest flows. There is relief in the absence of an external gaze - loving Frida's face and loving your own face as a revolutionary step in healing.

Homecoming button for the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers.

Photographed at The Pottery Place
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Photographed on a calander from 1926

Pottery Place
Red Wing Minnesota
Friday April 18th, 2025

Gone but not forgotten

Photographed in Red Wing Minnesota
Thursday April 10th, 2025

Corny

Photographed in Red Wing Minnesota
Thursday April 10th, 2025