Minnesota Prairie Roots

TO WRITE A FICTIONAL BOOK, you begin with an idea, which births words. Words beget sentences, then paragraphs, then chapters. But the process is not quite that simple. Creating a work of fiction requires attention to detail from character development to dialogue to setting to plot. I’ve written short stories that have published, thus understand the craft.

I want to hone in on one word—details. They are a hallmark of a good story, of creative writing. And they are also the hallmark of small towns. Let me explain.

How many times have you driven through a community without really seeing it, without noticing the rich details that, like details in a story, make it unique, interesting?

I notice the little things. Perhaps it’s my journalism and photography background that draw me to look closer, beyond the surface. I seek out anything that is different, unusual, surprising. And I’m never disappointed.

Drive slowly around any small town or walk along Main Street with a focused perspective and you will soon see the details that integrate into the story line of a community. That includes Kenyon, a Goodhue County town of around 1,900 best known for its Boulevard of Roses.

Minnesota State Highway 60, along which all those roses grow, runs right through the heart of Kenyon, intersecting with state highway 56. The intersection thrums with traffic. But I wonder how many motorists notice the bold Fox’s Garage Firestone Tires sign painted on the side of a stalwart brick building half a block away from that busy intersection? It’s an artsy nod to local history.

Nearby, at the Kenyon Veterans Memorial Park, I discovered Jacob’s Tree and a plaque honoring Jacob Wetterling and all missing children. It was an unexpected memorial in a place focused on veterans. But it also seemed fitting to honor the 11-year-old Minnesota boy who was abducted by a stranger in 1989, his remains found 27 years later. Jacob was, after all, a small town boy grabbed while biking to a video store.

Kenyon once had a video store, now a tobacco and vape shop. The K-Town Video sign tells me that.

Likewise, remnants of fuel pricing signage still banner a former gas station where today Che Che’s Lunchera food truck serves up Mexican food under the station canopy.

Details like these point to a town’s history, to its evolution. Back at the vets park, a fading vintage sign once directed snowmobilers to gas and food along a designated trail route.

I hold a fondness for signs and Kenyon offers plenty of homegrown signage. That includes clever and humorous messages posted outside Kenyon Meats along highway 60. I expect many motorists have noticed SMOKE MEAT NOT METH and DON’T FRY BACON NAKED. And now the newest—YOUR MOM LIKES OUR MEAT.

But it takes a turn onto a side street and through an alley to see an old John Deere tractor parked next to a pick-up truck behind a building. This is a farming community rooted in rural.

Along that same alley, next to the post office parking lot, I noticed a basketball hoop standing between dumpsters and a recycling bin. It seemed out of place until I realized there’s probably an apartment above the post office. The hoop hints at teens dribbling a basketball across the pavement on a hot summer evening, arms and legs flailing in a pick-up game, sweat beading their foreheads.

Across the street at the Kenyon VFW, I spotted the silhouette of a veteran on a side door with an honoring message of “WE SALUTE YOU.” More characters, more dialogue, more stories. On this visit to Kenyon, I looked for details that often go unnoticed. And when I looked, I saw community.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling