Rufina Cambaceres' crypt at Recoleta Cemetery in Argentina. Photo by Miranda Helbling.

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 Each year at this time, a card arrives in my mailbox with the letters “AM” printed in the upper left corner of the envelope.

 I know who has sent this even before I lift the flap. I even know the exact words that I will find carefully hand-lettered inside the greeting card: “I miss you. Annie Mary.”

 Now if this seems all rather nice to you, it really isn’t. Annie Mary, after all, is a 122-year-old ghost, or more accurately, a deceased 6-year-old child who was buried alive in 1886 in Albin Township near Hanska.

 My Aunt Marilyn, who grew up in that area of the state, takes great pleasure in taunting me with the ghostly horror story of Annie Mary. In a moment of weakness, I admitted to my dear aunt that I rather disliked hearing the tale of Annie Mary’s horrible demise.

 As legend goes, Annie Mary wasn’t really dead when she was buried. Rather, she was in a coma. At some point in time, family members opened her coffin and supposedly found fingernail claw marks and other evidence that the 6-year-old had struggled to free herself. The story gives me the creeps and sends shivers down my spine.

 Through the years, the young girl’s gravesite, which had been protected by a stone wall, attracted vandals. In October 1996, her remains were moved and reburied next to her parents in northern Minnesota so she could rest in peace.

 While Annie Mary may rest in tranquility, each October my peace is disturbed by the Halloween greeting card I receive. The outside of the card usually depicts a drawing of a little girl on a swing. Somewhere along the line, Aunt Marilyn embellished the story to include the ghost of Annie Mary swaying on a swing.

What I’ve found most disconcerting, though, is the fact that the envelope has sometimes born a postmark from my hometown, where my Aunt Marilyn lives. Now I would like to think that my dear aunt wouldn’t play such a mean-spirited trick on me as to send a card under the fraudulent guise of Annie Mary. But I suppose anything is possible, especially on Halloween and especially since the return address reads simply “AM.” I’m no Sherlock Holmes. But “AM” could mean “Aunt Marilyn.”

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 If you’re interested in reading Minnesota ghost stories such as the Annie Mary tale, check out the following books:

 Ghost Tales of Minnesota by Ruth D. Hein

More Ghostly Tales from Minnesota by Ruth D. Hein

Ghost Stories of Minnesota by Gina Teel

Oddball Minnesota — A Guide to Some Really Strange Places by Jerome Pohlen

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 If your budget allows for a ghostly adventure, grab a flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Once there, tour the Recoleta Cemetery and find the crypt of Rufina Cambaceres. Like Annie Mary, this 19-year-old was reportedly buried alive after falling into a coma-like state.

 Her father, upon the death of his wife, discovered scratch marks inside Rufina’s coffin and a year later died of grief.

 Unlike Annie Mary, Rufina’s burial site is designed to attract visitors and is, in fact, a major tourist draw at the cemetery. My daughter, Miranda, who is currently studying abroad in Buenos Aires, toured the cemetery in August. Naturally, she had to share Rufina’s story with me. Now if I get a Halloween card from Rufina…

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 At the risk of seeming disloyal to Minnesota breweries, I must tell you about a small Wisconsin brewery I discovered this past weekend. Not that I was in the land of cows, cheese and Packer fans. But a cousin’s son, who has, for now, defected to Milwaukee, snuck some bottles of New Glarus Brewing Company beer across the border to his home state of Minnesota.

How could I not notice Nick nipping at a brew labeled Totally Naked during a family celebration of his grandparents’ 50^th wedding anniversary? The name definitely grabbed my attention. Naturally, I inquired about the beer. Nick filled me in on this small brewery about 30 miles south of Madison. He’s rather fond of New Glarus beer.

 When Nick’s Dad offered me a sip of Spotted Cow beer, I gladly accepted. After all, I grew up on a dairy farm and couldn’t possibly pass on ale promoted as “fun, fruity and satisfying.” The beer tasted fine and reminded me a bit of my favorite Minnesota beer, Strawberry Wheat, brewed by Brau Brothers Brewing Company in Lucan.

 Then another relative walked by with a bottle of New Glarus Dancing Man Wheat. If anything, the Wisconsin company had me hooked simply by their creative beer names and labels.

 My curiosity piqued, I logged onto the brewery’s website upon my return home from southwestern Minnesota to Faribault, which isn’t all that far from the Wisconsin border. There I found more cleverly-named beers like Fat Squirrel, touted as having “a hazelnut brown ale” flavor. I thought that appropriately named. Uff-Da Bock promised a “complex and smooth with deep chocolate and coffee undertones” flavor. Now that’s a beer a woman could love. 

My excitement about discovering New Glarus Brewing Company, which was named one of the top 10 breweries in the world, was tempered a bit by something I read on the website. It seems the brewery aims to produce world-class, handcrafted beers “for our friends in Wisconsin.” What about your friends in Minnesota?

 In all fairness, the New Glarus folks apologized to non-Wisconsinites (that includes us Minnesotans) and explained why their beer is sold only within their borders. Apparently Wisconsin days, like Minnesota days, are just 24 hours in length. It’s all the small brewery can do in a day to keep up with local demand.

 So I guess if I want Spotted Cow beer, I’ll have to hoof it across the fence line to Wisconsin.

On Saturday morning, I toured Vesta, my hometown. It is, like so many other towns on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, a place that exists because of agriculture. That is most evident in the fall, when tractors pulling wagons and trucks line up at the local elevator to unload corn and soybeans.

For the most part, businesses in villages like Vesta, population hovering around 330, are few. A bank, post office, liquor store, grocery store and cafe anchor the downtown. Other businesses are scattered about the community, some fringing Minnesota Highway 19.

Though this Redwood County town doesn’t thrive with a robust retail economy, it offers up a unique charm that is distinctly rural. So on Saturday morning, after fueling up with a slice of homemade blueberry cream pie at the Vesta Cafe, I drove around my childhood hometown. Here is my view of Vesta as seen through a camera lens. Click on the thumbnail frames to see the photos full size and enjoy this visual tour of a little town on the prairie.

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 For the second time in two months, law enforcement received a call about a wandering donkey in Rice County. See my blog, A 3-legged donkey and missing shoes, posted on September 4.

 On Thursday afternoon, October 16, the critter was again discovered in a ditch along Bagley Avenue. Police moved the donkey into a yard, according to a locally-published “Cops and Courts” report.

 Now I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering whether the cops tied up the donkey, put the animal inside a fence or barn, or simply said, “Now stay there and don’t play by the road.”

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

This morning I noticed what seemed like an exorbitant number of spiders dangling from my living room ceiling. So I decided to count them. I was shocked. Sixteen arachnids had spun their webs in just this one room. I didn’t bother to check the other rooms.

I don’t dislike spiders like I dislike fast-moving, multi-legged centipedes. But I don’t especially like them either. Their cobwebs and the insects caught in their sticky traps don’t exactly enhance my home décor.

So what’s a woman to do?

Get out the vacuum cleaner. I know this is perhaps not the most humane way to rid my home of spiders. But it certainly seems the easiest and most efficient. No matter the method, the end result will be the same.

I suppose I could have tried another option, placing a classified in the local newspaper. My ad would read something like this: Give away to a good home, 16 spiders. Ideal for that Halloween party. Call 1-800-SPI-DERS.