THE JULY FOURTH WEEKEND took me back home, home being my native southwestern Minnesota. There my extended family gathered at my middle brother’s rural acreage near Lamberton for the first time since December 2019. To see so many family members—not all attended—felt wonderful.
Being back in that rural area of our state, in a familiar landscape, felt comforting. No matter where I’ve lived as an adult, Redwood County remains home. The place of my roots. The land and sky and wind imprinted upon me like ink on the pages of a book. Words that thread through my writing even today.
Perhaps my perspective seems too nostalgic. And if it does, I offer no apologies. I value the place which shaped me as a person and as a writer and photographer.
The familiar scenes which appear before me en route from Faribault to southwestern Minnesota welcome me back. The red barns. The vast fields of corn and soybeans. The expansive sky. Even the tractors and farm wagons and pick-up trucks.
All are part of the rural-ness. My rural-ness. The grain elevators and gravel roads and power lines stretching seemingly to infinity.
I could write chapters about the gravel roads I biked as a teen—how the gravel crunched beneath tires, how wild roses flourished in ditches, how vehicles kicked up dust. I could write chapters about barns—how I labored inside ours, feeding cows and calves, and pitching manure. I could write chapters about the ice and snow storms that left our farm without electricity, once for an entire week in the depth of winter.
A trip back to southwestern Minnesota prompts such memories. I remember. I relive. But, most of all, I recognize just how thankful I am to have been raised in this rural region. On the land. In the shadows of silos and grain elevators. Just a softball pitch away from the barn. Within scent of cows, steers and calves. As close to the earth as bare feet or the end of a hoe hacking cockle burrs in a soybean field.
As rural scenes unfold, my memories, too, unfurl. Memories of hard work and challenges balanced by carefree afternoons and prairie sunsets and all the beauty this place holds for me. Still today, some 40-plus decades after I left this land.
© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
I am reading a book based in the rural countryside and it had me reflecting on my days growing up on the farm. It just reminded me of a good day’s hard work along with the simple, less hustle and bustle, even a little freeing at times, etc. I remember getting breakfast and being told not to come back until dinner time. I would sneak green beans, strawberries, even an ear of corn if I got hungry in the afternoon. Sometimes the country is just calling me – roots and wings, right 🙂 Thanks for sharing – made my day! Happy Day – Enjoy
I love reading about your growing up years, similar in many ways to mine. We just returned from a week at the lake. Back to our noisy street and reality. I had no clue what was happening outside the lake property. Spent nearly all the time outdoors and exploring the area. Watch for posts.
Thanks for this. As I have written to you before, my father and his family are also from Redwood County, Sheridan Township to be specific. They had a 240-acre family farm established in 1890 but now sold. My family and I often visited the farm during the summer when I was a youngster. Your photos took me back to the point where I could, it seemed, actually “smell the smells” of the farm. Thank you.
Oh, Charles, I feel humbled and honored that my photos took you back to your roots. I deeply appreciate your comment.
Lovely post; i hope to travel some of these same roads in August and experience some wonderful nostalgia, too.
I’m so happy for you that you are coming to MN for a visit.
How wonderful to have such vivid memories of your rural home, growing up knowing all of the secrets of the countryside, and feeling the safety of the smallness of the community. Growing up with several homes I do not have the same attachment to one place but I appreciate how important it is for many folks. Great pictures as always.
Thank you, Beth Ann.