MY PHOTOGRAPHIC GOAL on a recent morning trip to and from neighboring Kenyon was simple enough: Photograph spring planting. But it wasn’t until Randy and I left this small Goodhue County town that I spotted field work underway.
On the drive over from Faribault, I saw a guy picking rock, more like a boulder, with a rock picker. That led to a brief conversation about our childhood rock picking experiences. Rock pickers were kids like us, not machines. They did not yet exist.
We assessed, as we headed east, that the absence of farmers in fields meant they’d either finished spring planting or had not yet begun due to no-tillage farming practices.
Once we left Kenyon, heading southwest into Monkey Valley, a picturesque rural area of woods, rolling hills and valley, creek, the North Fork of the Zumbro River, farm sites and fields, a tractor came into view. I must pause here to explain that Monkey Valley, as local lore claims, was named after monkeys that long ago escaped from a traveling circus into the valley. True? I don’t know. But it’s a good story.
I found that first farmer, pulling a roller across the land leveling the earth, just before the gravel road wound into the woods of Monkey Valley. I realized how much farming has changed in the decades since I left rural southwestern Minnesota. There’s more specialized equipment. Bigger implements to work more acres. Different methods of farming that are more environmentally-friendly.
As we followed the gravel road, our van kicking up dust on an especially windy morning, I admired the distant dense woods nestling a farm field under a semi-cloudy sky. Patches of blue peeked through the gray of building rain clouds.
Soon we happened upon the Hauge Old Stone Church built in the 1870s, a place we’ve previously toured during an annual open house. We stopped only long enough for a photo. No meandering among the graves this time as we are wont to do when coming across a country cemetery.
Farm sites hug the road here in Monkey Valley. While many are well-kept, some show the marks of time, like an abandoned silo standing next to the walls of a collapsed barn. I always feel melancholy in the presence of barns gone, their ruins like rural gravestones.
Not far ahead, life teemed in a flock of wild turkeys. I exited the van, moved slowly toward them, hoping to sneak closer for a better photo. But, like all wildlife, they are tuned in to danger and quickly dashed across the road from one ditch to the other. Never mind me and my photographic wishes.
Traveling on back gravel roads requires a slower pace. A sign posted on a roadside tree instructed: SLOW UR (sic) ROLL.
Continuing west toward Faribault, we slowed our roll for a herd of Holsteins fenced in the cow yard at Donkers Farm. I hold a special fondness for cows. I spent my formative years in the barn, scooping silage, pushing a wheelbarrow full of ground feed, feeding cows and calves, bedding straw, forking hay, shoveling manure, carrying milk pails and more. That imprinted upon me the value of hard work, of a farm family working together, of a rural way of life.
All across southern Minnesota, farmers prep the land, apply fertilizer, sow corn and soybeans. They invest not only their time, efforts and finances in the land, but also their hopes. Hope for timely rains. Hope for good growing weather. Hope for an eventual bountiful harvest. And then hope for a good market with high commodity prices.
So much hinges on hope. I see that on this day, on this drive past the fields and farm sites of southern Minnesota.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Persistent peaceful protest April 23, 2026
Tags: America, children's picture book, commentary, concerns, current issues, democracy, Faribault, First Amendment rights, free speech, Iran War, Minnesota, Operation Metro Surge, peace, protest, protest signs, protesting, rural Minnesota, war
THEY PROTESTED during the Vietnam War. Larry, Karl and Mary, who was tear-gassed at the University of Minnesota back in the day. Nearly 60 years later, they are on the protest line again, holding signs, voicing their concerns.
And I’m there, too, standing along Minnesota State Highway 60/Fourth Street in Faribault exercising my First Amendment rights to free speech. I never thought that at my age, I would become a protester. But nearly every Saturday morning from 11 a.m.-noon for the past three months, I’ve stood in solidarity with Larry, Karl, Mary, Kate, Mercedes, Randy, Raven, Matt, Barb, Kirsten, John, Gary, Wendy, Elizabeth, Josh, Sheri, Mark, Ann, Reed, Susan, Donna, Travis, Carrie, Allison, Hannah…up to 175 people at the most recent No Kings Day protest.
I’m proud to call these kind, compassionate and caring individuals my friends. Some I’ve met on the protest line; others I knew previously. Whether friendships old or new, I value every single person who is taking a public stand against the chaos unfolding in this country. There is value in protesting.
We express our concerns in the signs we craft, or buy, and hold for passing motorists to see. Concerns about immigration enforcement, the environment, Constitutional rights, the Epstein files, voting rights, the future of our democracy, human rights, data centers, the economy, incompetency of elected officials, un-presidential images with comparisons to Jesus…and most recently the war in Iran.
I have a stash of signs in my basement and continue to create new ones. When issues pop up, I pull out the markers, the tag board or cardboard, the stencils and write a message. There’s no shortage of concerns I hold for this country and world under the current federal leadership.
Lately I’ve held “Peace, not war” signs. It’s an issue on everyone’s mind, this unnecessary war our president started without Congressional approval, without a clear understanding of the Iranian regime’s mindset, without an exit. American soldiers are dying. The economy is a mess. And on and on. Threats to bomb away a civilization don’t sit well with me. Nor do comparisons to Jesus or attacks on Pope Leo XIV.
Peace has always felt elusive. Even on the protest line, where we practice peace, we sometimes find ourselves under verbal attack from motorists who clearly support the president and his agenda. We’ve been yelled at, called “stupid, retarded, mentally ill, dumb a**es” and more while getting the middle finger sometimes accompanied by a “f**k you!”. We just smile and wave, refusing to give these angry MAGA individuals the negative reaction they desire. That said, when they drive dangerously close to us at a high rate of speed, they cross the line from free speech to public endangerment.
Nearly 60 years ago, Larry, Karl and Mary were young adults protesting the Vietnam War. I admire that they are back on the protest line. They understand the importance of speaking up, of not remaining silent.
Creatives like Wendy Anderson Halperin also understand how we can use our voices to make a difference. I recently found her book, simply titled Peace, at my local library. Published in 2013, this children’s picture book is especially relevant today. I encourage you to read it, to study Halperin’s detailed illustrations and to read the many quotes woven into the artwork. Quotes that are thought-provoking, uplifting, revealing, encouraging.
I leave you with two quotes printed in Peace:
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”—Jimi Hendrix.
“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and greed. If people all over the world would do this, it would change the earth.”—William Faulkner.
RELATED: Sahan Journal, a nonprofit digital newsroom in Minnesota dedicated to reporting for immigrants and people of color, published an outstanding article on April 21 about more than 70 Minnesota children detained by federal immigration agents during Operation Metro Surge. This is an eye-opening story that should be read by everyone, regardless of political affiliation. Click here to read.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling