Where They Mark the Trees Red

If you could fly like a bird and rise high up into the skies of southwestern Minnesota, it wouldn’t take you long to spot the Minnesota River. It begins its journey south at Big Stone Lake on the Minnesota-North Dakota border and joins the Mississippi River at Fort Snelling State Park in Saint Paul some 330 miles later, traveling through the state like a reverse check mark. Along the way, the famous Minnesota is fed by many tributaries.
Near the confluence with the Redwood River, my wife, Jen, and I set up basecamp at Ramsey Park/Cansayapi (Chan-Cha-Yah-Pee) in Redwood Falls to see what there is to see and do in Redwood County. On our way there, Redwood Falls snuck up on us. We were cruising along the flat farm fields, and the only notice we had was a steep grade sign. We suddenly dropped into the valley, crossed the Minnesota River, and found our campsite at Ramsey Park/Cansayapi.
The history of this area as a park goes back to the late 1890s, when the property was in private ownership but accessible to the public. The 1900s brought a hydroelectric dam, which created Lake Redwood upstream, and grist and flour mills. In 1911, it was dedicated as an official Minnesota state park and named after Minnesota’s first territorial governor, Alexander Ramsey. Ownership reverted to the city of Redwood Falls in 1957, and renamed Ramsey Park became Minnesota’s largest municipal park at 256 acres, featuring two waterfalls, a historic hand cut granite bridge, a small zoo, campground, playground, many shelters, and 3.5 miles of paved hiking trails. In recent years, the name started being used in conjunction with Cansayapi, the word the Dakota use to describe their homeland on the Minnesota River, which translates to “Where they mark the trees red.”
It was decidedly quieter when I walked through the doors of the museum, even though it was field trip day for a class of second graders. They sat on the floor in a half circle, listening to one of the interpretive staff tell the story of the Ingall family, and I browsed the gift shop. The grounds of the museum house a collection of historic buildings resembling those the family might have encountered in their lives, like a schoolhouse, a store, a simple settler’s home, and a replica dugout home, like the one the Ingalls family built to survive their first winter.
I had a chance to chat with owner Doreen Osland and her mother, Millie, for a while and learned that what started out as a hobby has turned into a very popular business, and people will travel an hour or more to attend one of their greeting card classes.
It was mid-afternoon, and I needed a boost. Luckily, Walnut Grove has a coffee shop and roastery, which occupies the former Ferguson Clinic building across from the city park.
Owner Crystal Knakmuhs opened Half Pint Coffee Co. in June of 2024 and now sells coffee drinks and more than a dozen varieties of freshly roasted beans, including two decaf choices. I had my usual, coffee and a shot of espresso. My next stop was Plum Creek Park, and Crystal recommended a particular spot to see Virginia bluebells in full bloom. Of course, I had to see them, and with Walnut Grove in the rearview mirror, I moved on. Jen later told me that Half-Pint was the nickname Pa Ingalls called Laura, which supposedly is common knowledge. Turns out I was more of a Waltons guy back then.
215-acre Plum Creek Park is a well-liked destination in the region because it offers a lot of recreation opportunities. There’s a campground with tent and RV sites, six camper cabins, a disc golf course, hiking trails, and even a self-serve kayak rental on popular Laura Lake. It didn’t take me long to find the bluebells. This Minnesota native wildflower prefers well-watered river bottoms with plenty of shade, and the banks of Plum Creek had just what it took for a special show. They usually range in color from purplish to bluish, but I spotted a couple of patches of a pink variety, too.
There was glistening wallpaper and shimmering upholstery in the booths below the mezzanine which rimmed the room on three sides with substantial oak beams. An oversized chandelier topped off the look of lavishness.
Jen and I had their alcohol-free Rivendell Smash, made with lemon juice,
honey, blackberries, ginger beer, mint, and a bourbon substitute. The lounge had its own menu, but we decided to move over to the winery and have a pizza.
We tucked in early to get ready for a busy Saturday.
Jen and I hit the road early and had breakfast at The Golden Rule Coffee House in downtown Redwood Falls. The long and narrow space was very inviting with exposed brick, warm tones, and a comfy lounge area. The smallest detail makes all the difference, and it was so good to see our coffee served in real cups and our breakfast sandwiches perched on real plates, decorated with a sprig of parsley. Of course, we snuck in an apple fritter, too.
It was the site where, in 1862, a war broke out that involved Dakota warriors, settlers, and United States soldiers, went on for six weeks, and cost hundreds of lives.
In the mid-1800s, it was a bustling place, bringing together Dakota people, traders, farmers, tradespeople, and settlers at the edge of the Minnesota River valley. The Redwood Ferry shuttled goods and people across the undulating river.
It was a beautiful spring day in Redwood Falls, and we put the kayaks in the water next. Westside Park is snuggled up to downtown and serves as the official boat landing for Lake Redwood, just upstream of the dam. With the roaring of the falling waters behind us, the buildings and noises of the city soon faded away, and our surroundings turned more natural. It was warm, the winds were calm, and the water flowed gently. Trees had just begun to unfurl their fresh leaves; it was a perfect spring day, and we were in a splendid mood. Eagles cruised above, fish swam below, and every log we passed was filled with bales of turtles, soaking up the sun. The only regret we had was leaving the fishing poles behind. It was eventually time to turn back, have a delicious camp dinner of South Forty pork steaks, and get ready for a special evening.
Dusk was approaching, and so was NightFalls. Celebrate Redwood Falls is a community organization that hosts several events in the area throughout the year, and for their (12th) annual spring shindig, Ramsey Park/Cansayapi turns into a family-friendly, after-dark extravaganza that involves 100 volunteers and nearly half a million lights. Just about at dusk, the displays turned on, and a steady caravan of cars began to snake its way into the valley and across the river as crowds were flocking in to see this unique spectacle. Behind the reflection of car windows, kids in back seats had their faces pressed against the glass, mesmerized by the sparkle.
And, like magic, the lights blinked off after 11pm, way past the hour our carriage usually turns into a pumpkin.
By the time we sauntered out of our camper the next morning, the army of NightFalls volunteers was back at it, rolling up miles of wire and stashing the magic away in totes until the next time. Our day started out with a delicious camp breakfast with the bacon from South Forty, then we packed up. We headed to Milroy, MN, just about 30 miles southwest of Redwood Falls, for the season opener game of the Milroy Irish baseball team. In this corner of southwestern Minnesota, town ball is alive and well, and the 250-soul hamlet of Milroy has not one but two amateur teams, each with its own stadium. Like a scene out of Field of Dreams, the Irish Yard’s floodlight stalks appeared on the horizon a few miles before we actually saw it, perched in the middle of a farm field.
We sat down in the bleachers of the 72-seat stadium, kicked back, and watched the game. Admittedly, neither Jen nor I are sports enthusiasts, but there’s something about this scene that held a special attraction for us. The close-cropped greens, the clay-stained uniforms, and the bright blue skies set the stage for the ritual: the umpire squats, the catcher kneels, the batter stirs the air with his bat, eyes fixed on the pitcher who winds up, and-everyone in the stands holds their breath-the pitch. If all goes well, there’s the crack of wood against leather that sends the ball deep into the outfield, or better yet, into the soybean fields beyond, and the crowd cheers. Kids dart from the stands to retrieve the ball, someone emerges from behind the scoreboard to change the numbers, and the ritual repeats. If there’s a lull in the action, it’s time to grab a burger and catch up with an old friend over a beer to find out just how exactly those soybeans are doing this year. In their 2025 season opener, things went the way of the Irish, and they beat Sleepy Eye 7-4.
On the way home we talked about how much we enjoyed our visit to Redwood County. We had met a lot of people over the last three days and took comfort in the fact that there are still people out there who come together for a walk in the park, a drum circle, to preserve history, or just a couple of beers at a ballgame.

