
THE NIGHT SKY HOLDS a vastness that makes me feel small. It’s mysterious and dark and, in some ways, intimidating. Yet, it possesses an alluring beauty that draws me to gaze heavenward. To imagine. To delight. To stand in awe of its infinity.
Fascination with the night sky seems universal. Kids, like my kindergartner grandson and, years ago, my own son, fixated on the solar system and all the night sky encompasses. I, too, find it interesting, although not to the degree of learning everything I can about the expanse above me.
Rather, if I learn of a newsworthy event in the night sky, I may step out after dark to look. Right now, that’s a seven-unit “planet parade” of Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Mars and Saturn visible to the naked eye after sunset and Uranus and Neptune visible via a visual aid.

All of this reminds me of a cosmic discovery I made this past fall while on the back roads to Morris in far western Minnesota. In the small town of Cosmos, population around 500, in southwestern Meeker County, I discovered a unique space-themed water tower and community event, the Cosmos Space Festival.

With a town name like Cosmos (originally called Nelson), it should come as no surprise that the community would build on the Greek word meaning “order and harmony.” The cosmic focus makes this place along Minnesota State Highways 7 and 4 stand out among all the other little towns in this part of the state. When I spotted the water tower with a space shuttle, planets, stars and more painted on its underbelly, I immediately wanted to stop and photograph this work of art, this town identifier.

In the process, I discovered that all the streets are named after planets and constellations and that the town celebrates the Cosmos Space Festival annually on the third weekend of July. That started in 1969 as a celebration of man’s (Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin in Apollo 11) first moon landing. I’m old enough to have watched that monumental moment in history on a black-and-white television.

The Cosmos space fest has been going strong ever since, marking its 57th year on July 17-20, 2025. The festival features your usual small town celebration activities like street dances, softball tournaments, city-wide garage sales, a hog roast, pedal tractor pull, pony rides, beer garden, fireworks, parade and much more. That includes the crowning of fest royalty—Little Miss Universe and Man on the Moon. Gotta love those cosmic titles.
And you gotta love how kids (and adults) get excited about the night sky. Locally, River Bend Nature Center is hosting its annual Minnesota Starwatch Party from 8-10 p.m. on Thursday, March 27, with retired meteorologist, amateur astronomer, stargazing columnist and author Mike Lynch. I attended the starwatch party with my husband and son many years ago. Lynch brings telescopes and vast knowledge, so this is a hands-on educational program.

Another opportunity to view the night sky through telescopes happens more frequently, from 8-10 p.m. the first Friday of every month inside and outside Goodsell Observatory on the campus of Carleton College in neighboring Northfield. I’ve been to this free monthly activity twice, again years ago with my husband and son. The next open house is on Friday, March 7. But only if the night sky is clear for viewing.

Whatever your interest level in the night sky, it’s fascinating. Vast. Dark. The subject of poetry and song and science. And above all, it’s a cosmic wonder, whether viewed from Cosmos, Faribault, Northfield or your little place in the big wide universe.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling





































An essay inspired by books in a sharing library February 19, 2025
Tags: book titles, books, commentary, essay, Minnesota, opinion, Pine River, sharing library
IF I WAS A REBEL, and I’m not (although a streak of defiance runs through my veins), I’d write a strongly opinionated piece on a controversial topic.
But I don’t like conflict. I prefer status quo to chaos, normalcy to the unexpected. Yet, that is not reality. Life can be easy and hard and good and awful and a whole mix of everything. Sort of like Sideways Arithmetic from Wayside School. I like school. Never liked math.
Nor do I particularly like William Shakespeare’s work with the exception of Romeo and Juliet. Who doesn’t love a love story, even if tragic? Shakespeare’s other writing seems archaic, boring and impossibly unrelatable. I offer no apologies for that view.
I am decidedly a fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder, who certainly has her critics, too. But her detail-rich writing in Little House in the Big Woods, On the Banks of Plum Creek, Little Town on the Prairie and more inspires me as a writer. Plus, I grew up some 25 miles from Walnut Grove, smack dab in the middle of the Minnesota prairie. When you live in a land of wide open spaces, big skies and sweeping winds, you approach writing from a detailed perspective that engages all the senses.
I can’t make much sense of sweeping Absolute Power, which has nothing to do with the senses. Not common sense anyway. Common sense tells me Spider Man is not real. Nor are heroes of the Justice League. Yet, I’d like to call in Superman, Wonder Woman and other superheroes to tackle the threats facing us today, and save the day.
Or perhaps strong-willed orphan Sally Lockhart of The Ruby in the Smoke could clear the smoke obscuring vision. Her experiences dealing with unseemly types qualifies her, in my opinion, to take on anything. Like uncovering lies, aggression, narcissism, manipulation and diversionary tactics. I appoint her to abolish the Department of Government E, or something like that, for starters.
Yes, there’s lots to contemplate. But today I’ve escaped to the sharing library, visually pulled a few books from the shelf to create this essay. And if nothing I’ve written resonates with you, then consider Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers. Head to the lake with a container of nightcrawlers, drop your baited line in the open water or drill a hole in the ice. Fish for answers. Good luck.
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NOTE: I’ve underlined the titles of books from the sharing library which I’ve incorporated into this essay. This essay is not the piece I wrote for the contest I referenced here last week.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling