Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Near Clearwater, MN: Discovering Bing’s service station collectibles & more August 14, 2014

THE COLLECTION OF VINTAGE GAS PUMPS, signage, phone booths and more is overwhelming, mind-boggling and impressive. To say the least.

The signs in Bing's collection are either original, reproductions or ones painted by him.

The signs in Bing’s collection are either original, reproductions or ones painted by him.

I could have wandered for hours at Bing and Mary Skelton’s property north of Clearwater in central Minnesota to see it all.

Rows of collectibles...

Rows of collectibles…

“All” is a massive collection of service station memorabilia coupled with those outdoor public phones, horse harnesses and so much more gathered during the past 15 years. That time span could be longer. Bing, real name Charles, isn’t precise on when he began amassing this stuff.

Bing poses for a portrait in his garage.

Bing poses for a portrait in his garage.

But one thing is certain. Bing welcomes visitors with the hospitality of long-time friends. His warmth is genuine, his enthusiasm unbridled. He grew up in the 1950s and appreciates items from that era. He likes Elvis and filling stations and, obviously, lots of other stuff from the past.

An overview of Bing's place upon entering the circle drive.

An overview of Bing’s place upon entering the circle drive.

Upon arriving at Bing’s place, discovered while attending a family reunion at Sportman’s Park just down the road and around the corner, I simply stood and took in the scene before me. You just cannot believe what you are seeing.

Looking down the short driveway to Stearns County Road 143. Use extreme caution when exiting onto the county road.

Looking down the short driveway to Stearns County Road 143. Use extreme caution when exiting onto the county road.

And even more unbelievable is that nothing is for sale nor does Bing charge for the joy and privilege of viewing his collection. People from all over the world find his place, tucked behind a hedge row and trees, hidden from Stearns County Road 143, just off 27th Avenue East off CR 75. If you’re not observant, you could easily miss this attraction that sits nearly atop the roadway.

Among all the signage, I noticed this print of Christ in the garage.

Among all the signage, I noticed this print of Christ in the garage.

It didn’t take me long, though, to notice a particular print among all the signage and collectibles in a garage that carries the aged scent of motor oil. There, above a May 1989 calendar page from St. Augusta Oil Co., to the left of a 2011 Gas & Oil Collection auction bill from Perham and near a portrait of a much younger Bing and Mary, hangs a portrait of Christ.

“It’s our Lord and Saviour,” Bing tells me as I remark on the image by artist Bette Meyers.

And I tell him I know and it is then that this collector shares his faith, terming himself a “caretaker for Jesus,” his collection a “calling card” to draw people in.

Not that he pushes his faith upon visitors. I did not sense that at all. Rather, by simply being Bing—a man who is genuinely welcoming, interesting and kind—he is witnessing. He’s not boastful either, just delighted to share his collecting passion.

Some of the wood sculptures Bing carved.

Some of the wood sculptures Bing carved.

His wife, Mary, who exited their adjacent home to rest on a chair in the cool of the garage, confirms that. Bing doesn’t like to talk about himself, she tells me. Not until Mary reveals it, do I learn that her husband molds metal to rebuild the oldest of the gas pumps on their property. And he paints signs and has created items, like guitars and sculptures from wood.

The wood guitars Bing crafts.

The wood guitars Bing crafts.

The talents of this man with past work experience on a mink ranch, fighting forest fires, in plumbing, sheet metal and more, are many. Mary seems his strongest supporter. She’s as kind and friendly and as gentle in spirit as her husband.

I convinced Mary to pose for this sweet portrait with her husband.

I convinced Mary to pose for this sweet portrait with her husband outside the garage. She hugged me before we left.

When I inquire as to her talent, the couple’s 45-year-old son, Joe, who has arrived at his parents’ place to tinker on a car, pipes up that his mom can cook. She confirms that and eventually father and son lead me into a lean-to off the garage. Inside rests a mammoth blue cookstove that Mary used while Joe was growing up. Lots of pizzas baked inside that oven.

The wood-burning cookstove Mary used when Joe was growing up.

The wood-burning cookstove Mary used when Joe was growing up.

During Joe’s youth, his dad collected antiques, but then Bing sold them all. And now he’s amassed this “new” collection.

Then I am treated to one more glimpse into the past after spotting a black rotary dial phone in the garage.

The Skeltons' working rotary dial phone.

The Skeltons’ working rotary dial phone.

That phone doesn’t work. But Joe tells me his folks have a working rotary dial wall phone inside the house. When I look doubtful, Mary takes me inside to view the vintage phone. I pick up the receiver, hear a dial tone.

I am a believer. Exactly what Bing hopes.

BONUS PHOTOS:

Pausing among the pumps.

Pausing among the pumps.

More collectibles, including horse harnesses, are clumped around the General Store.

More collectibles, clumped around the General Store.

Vintage phone booths are a major part of the collection.

Vintage outdoor public phones are a major part of the collection.

The Sinclair dinosaur has always been one of my favorite icons.

The Sinclair dinosaur is among the numerous gas company signs in Bing’s collection.

Two of my favorite of Bing's carvings, of Native Americans.

Two of my favorite of Bing’s carvings, of Native Americans.

Another favorite icon, the flying red horse.

Bing has several of the iconic flying red horse signs.

FYI: Please check back tomorrow for more photos of Bing’s collection.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Cherishing the moments of a family reunion August 13, 2014

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The Tom Helbling family gathers at Sportsman's Park, rural Clearwater, Minnesota.

The Tom Helbling family gathers at Sportsman’s Park, rural Clearwater, Minnesota. This is just a small portion of the group.

IN THE BUSYNESS of a family reunion—between the food and the kids running here and there and the reconnecting—it is the moments which define a gathering.

As Meghan helps her Great Uncle Marty open his birthday gift, the two exchange an endearing look.

As Meghan helps her Great Uncle Marty open his birthday gift, the two exchange an endearing look.

Rare one-on-one conversations, a look exchanged,

Cousins Beth, left, and Keira paused for a photo as they scampered through the woods looking for a tree to climb. They never found one they could both ascend.

Cousins Beth, left, and Keira pause for a photo while looking for a tree to climb. They never found one they could both ascend.

friendships reforged… all matter.

The sweet hand of my 18-month-old great nephew, Aston, as he naps in his stroller.

The sweet hand of my 18-month-old great nephew, Aston, as he naps in his stroller.

These are moments that imprint upon the memory, that seal the bonds of family.

The family patriarch, Tom, and his wife, Jan, admired Corey's bike, but could not be persuaded to take a spin.

The family patriarch, Tom, and his wife, Jan, admire Corey’s bike, but could not be persuaded to take a spin.

This past Saturday the Tom and Betty Helbling family, those who could make it, reunited at a park near Clearwater. Many came from nearby while others drove from Michigan, North Dakota and other points south and west in Minnesota.

Celebrating the birthdays of three family members.

Celebrating the birthdays of three family members.

Some were missing, including members of my family from Boston, eastern Wisconsin and St. Paul. Noticeably absent was the brother currently serving in Afghanistan and his wife and son back home in Missouri.

My brother-in-law, Marty, opens his "old fart" birthday gift.

My brother-in-law, Marty, opens his “old fart” birthday gift.

The older I grow, the more I appreciate these reunions with my husband’s family.

I was attempting to photograph my great niece, Katherine, trying on her mom's sunglasses. I finally got that shot. But I also got this one, my favorite for the loving look exchanged between the two.

I was attempting to photograph my great niece, Katherine, trying on her mom’s sunglasses. I finally got that shot. But I also got this one, my favorite for the loving look exchanged between the two.

And the more I find the children so absolutely endearing.

Bennett plops down and plays with his truck among the coolers.

Bennett plops down and plays with his truck and matchbox vehicles among the coolers.

The ball diamond proved a popular spot for the little ones like my great niece, Meghan.

The ball diamond proved a popular spot for the little ones like my great niece, Meghan.

Girl cousins snug up to a kid-sized picnic table to create art.

Girl cousins snug up to a kid-sized picnic table to create art.

They bring joy and smiles and a thankfulness for the blessing of this next generation.

Cousins Meghan, left, Beth and Keira bond over artwork.

Cousins Meghan, left, Beth and Keira bond over artwork.

It is my hope the kids will remember the importance of family and of these reunions.

My great nephew, Cameron, covers third base.

My great nephew, Cameron, covers third base.

Perhaps they will recall scooping balls from a dusty field, tossing pebbles on the slide, creating art on a child-size picnic table, scaling trees and more.

Quiet time drawing with cousins.

Quiet time drawing with cousins.

I will remember their preciousness, the little legs that raced, the hands that drew, the cuteness factor.

Marty, with his birthday gift bottle of whiskey, sports his out-law t-shirt.

Marty, with his birthday gift bottle of whiskey, sports his out-law t-shirt.

I consider how the years fly by and suddenly I am the one with (dyed) grey hair sitting elbow-to-elbow with my brother-in-law who sports a red “out-law” shirt.

A teaching moment for my niece, Kristina, and her son, Aston.

A teaching moment for my niece, Kristina, and her son, Aston.

Where has time gone?

Abandoning the ball field...

Abandoning the ball field…

And why don’t the women who married Helbling brothers have “out-law” shirts or sashes or something?

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The place where everybody knows your name… August 12, 2014

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DO YOU EVER WONDER about a business name, how it came to be? I do.

A popular watering hole in Courtland, Minnesota. Look closely at the sign and you'll see a small crow perched on the letter "O."

A popular watering hole in Courtland, Minnesota. Look closely at the sign and you’ll see a small crow perched on the letter “O.”

Let’s take The Crow Bar and Grill in Courtland along U.S. Highway 14 just east of New Ulm. I’ve passed this bar countless times on my way to and from my native southwestern Minnesota. I even imbibed there many decades ago.

But not until this last trip, did my husband and I discuss the bar’s moniker. I’d always assumed The Crow Bar was linked to the obnoxious bird by the same name. I write “obnoxious” because crows  awaken me too many mornings with a raucous caw, caw, caw. I’m right, according to the miniscule crow perched on the “O” in the bar’s signage.

My husband, however, contemplated that the name could also refer to a crow bar, as in a tool. How clever. Perfect. The Crow Bar.

Never been inside this bar in downtown Farmington.

Never been inside this bar in downtown Farmington.

Over in Farmington, south of the Twin Cities metro, I came across Gossips Bar & Grill with the tag line, You heard it here first!

Now isn’t that the truth when it comes to bar talk and old crows.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Getting published, in a Mankato park August 11, 2014

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HOW, EXACTLY, WERE WE going to locate a poetry sign in sprawling Sibley Park?

A sign explains the history of Sibley Park.

A sign explains the history of Sibley Park.

Upon entering this Mankato city park on a recent Saturday morning, I considered that my husband and I would be searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. We had no idea the park was so large. And we were supposed to, somehow, find 12-year-old Hannah Leraas’ Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride sign board here.

Absolutely stunning gardens.

Absolutely stunning gardens.

Yeah, right, I thought as we parked near a stunning flower garden to begin our search because it seemed as good a place as any to start looking.

The garden includes a fountain tucked among the flowers.

The garden includes water features tucked among the flowers.

But I quickly deduced if we were to find the poem, we best ask someone familiar with the park. That was not the young woman on a skateboard. A wedding photographer on his way to a shoot proved more helpful, directing us toward a particular street we had yet to locate in the twisting maze of park roads that are not particularly well-marked.

There's Hannah's poem, up the hill from the Ott cabin, to the right in the background.

There’s Hannah’s poem, up the hill from the Ott cabin, to the right in the background.

Hannah Leraas with her winning poem, "Snow."

Hannah Leraas with her winning poem, “Snow.” Photo courtesy of Leraas family.

With his directions and after touring the gardens, we climbed back in the van and moments later spotted Hannah’s poem, “Snow,” just up the hill from the 1857 Ott log cabin along a recreational trail and near CHS Pergola Way.

Hannah's poem, "Snow."

Hannah’s poem, “Snow.”

While my husband dialed (507) 403-4038 on his cell phone and punched in 407 to hear Hannah read her poem, I snapped photos of this young Faribault writer’s poetry sign board. I’ve mentored Hannah and am beyond thrilled that “Snow” was selected from among submissions in the fourth – seventh grade division of the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride competition. (Click here to read a story I posted earlier about her poetry.)

My poem, “Bandwagon,” was also chosen and is posted in Lions Park. (Click here to read about that.)

Sibley Park rests at the confluence of the Blue Earth and Minnesota Rivers.

Sibley Park rests at the confluence of the Blue Earth and Minnesota Rivers. The park has many features, including softball fields, a sliding hill, picnic shelters, a zoo (which we did not have time to visit) and more.

For any writer, no matter your age or experience, there’s a certain satisfaction in winning a contest and getting your work published. I am grateful for the opportunity I’ve had the past two years to be part of the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride. This year 35 poems by 22 writers are posted in parks and along recreational trails in Mankato and North Mankato. Additionally, poems by three notable area poets are featured.

This sign near the CHS Pergola and atop the park's hill, encourages physical activity.

This sign near the CHS Pergola and atop the park’s hill, encourages physical activity.

I hope you’ll take the time, if you’re in southern Minnesota, to check out the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride. Just allow plenty of time for exploring, like we did in Sibley Park, once we found Hannah’s poem.

My husband and I noticed lots of oak leaves fallen from trees and oaks that appeared diseased.

My husband and I noticed lots of oak leaves fallen from trees and oaks that appeared diseased.

FYI: For more info about the Mankato Poetry Walk and Ride, a project of the Southern Minnesota Poets Society, click here.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

How the 35W bridge collapse changed my view of bridges August 8, 2014

SEVEN YEARS AGO at 6:05 p.m. on August 1, 2007, the 35W bridge in Minneapolis collapsed, killing 13 and injuring 145. It is a moment that all of us who call Minnesota home will remember with a deep sense of sadness.

Crossing the 35W bridge near downtown Minneapolis.

Crossing the 35W bridge near downtown Minneapolis.

Last weekend, my husband and I traveled across the “new” 35W bridge, marked by wavy pillars. I didn’t realize we were on the bridge until I noticed the 30-foot high water symbol sculptures. We seldom drive this way and I’m just not all that familiar with Twin Cities roadways.

Nearing the other end of the 35W bridge.

Nearing the other end of the 35W bridge.

As we crossed the bridge, my thoughts flashed back to that terrible tragedy and specifically to survivor Garrett Ebling, former managing editor of the Faribault Daily News, the newspaper in my community. He was among those most seriously injured when his Ford Focus plunged into the Mississippi River.

This photo shows the opening spread of the feature article published in the November/December 2007 issue of Minnesota Moments. Casey McGovern of Minneapolis shot the bridge collapse scene. To the far left is Garrett before the collapse, to the right, his rescuer. The next photo shows his Ford Focus which plummeted into the Mississippi River. And to the right are Garrett and Sonja, before the collapse.

This photo shows the opening spread of the feature article published in the November/December 2007 issue of Minnesota Moments. Casey McGovern of Minneapolis shot the bridge collapse scene. To the far left is Garrett  Ebling before the collapse, to the right, his rescuer, Rick Kraft. The next photo shows his Ford Focus which plummeted into the Mississippi River. And to the right are Garrett and and his fiancee, Sonja Birkeland, before the collapse. On the second page are photos of Garrett in the hospital.

Shortly after the collapse, Garrett was the subject of a magazine feature article I wrote on his experience and survival. I interviewed him via email as he was unable to speak. He impressed me then with his tenacity and determination. I also interviewed his then fiancee, Sonja Birkeland, and his rescuer, Rick Kraft.

Garrett Ebling's book.

Garrett Ebling’s book.

In 2013, I published a review here of his book, Collapsed, A Survivor’s Climb from the Wreckage of the 35W Bridge. You can read that review by clicking here.

Garrett, like so many others, was simply commuting home when the bridge gave way. The ordinariness of this, I think, strikes me most. Just driving home…

I’ve never liked bridges. Not because I’m afraid they will fall, but because I don’t like heights. I remember a brother-in-law asking shortly after the collapse whether I was now afraid to cross a bridge. I’m not.

But, like many Minnesotans, I now have a heightened awareness of the condition of bridges. How could you not?

The Minnesota Highway 36 bridge over Ramsey County Road 51. (Shot taken through a dirty windshield, thus the spots on the image.)

The Minnesota Highway 36 bridge over Ramsey County Road 51. (Shot taken through a dirty windshield, thus the spots on the image.)

So, when my husband and I exited Minnesota State Highway 36 to Lexington Avenue/Ramsey County Road 51 not long after crossing the 35W bridge, we nearly simultaneously noted the condition of the highway 36 bridge. Now I’m sure inspectors have checked the bridge for structural safety. But to the untrained eye, rust and crumbling concrete raise concern.

Tell me, what holds fast in your memory about the 35W bridge collapse and did that tragedy impact how you view bridges?

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, for cute…kitties and puppies August 7, 2014

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I GREW UP ON A DAIRY and crop farm where cats and dogs roamed the property.

Although they were pets, they weren’t really pets. Rather, they were there to work. The cats caught mice. The dogs alerted us to wild animals and vehicles arriving in the farm yard.

My parents never bought cat or dog food. Table scraps, of which there were few from our family of eight, and a daily hub cap of milk warm from the cow nourished the cats and dogs.

One of my all-time favorite portraits shows Ian, my blogger friend Gretchen's son, with the family cat, Zephyr.

One of my all-time favorite portraits shows Ian, my blogger friend Gretchen’s son, with the family cat, Zephyr. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo shot in July 2013.

Of course, we kids grew quite fond of dogs like Blackie, Shep, Rex and Fritz Carter Mondale Ferraro and Tommer the cat (why can’t I remember the names of more cats?), …

I recall dressing kittens in doll clothes and pushing them in a doll buggy.

There were endless attempts to teach the dogs to shake hands and fetch balls or sticks.

Spring always brought a search in the hay loft or haystack for newborn kittens.

Yes, my memories of felines and canines are mostly pleasant ones of working farm animals that sometimes allowed us to play with them.

As an adult, considering the cost and care, I’ve never wanted a pet. Plus, I’m just not the type of person who wants an animal living indoors and/or in town. I know I’m in the minority. But that’s OK. I’ll just admire and pet other people’s pets.

Titan, so active I struggled to photograph him.

Titan, so active I struggled to photograph him.

The other night I met Titan, an adorable seven-week-old puppy, at the Spitzack farm outside Faribault. Puppies are so darned cute. Titan reminded me of the story my mom shared awhile ago. One recent afternoon a man from a nearby town arrived at the senior complex where she lives with nearly a dozen puppies for residents to pet and cuddle. He’d engaged the litter in active play so they’d be worn out. His strategy worked. Mom was so excited about a sweet, cuddly puppy falling asleep in her lap that you’d have thought she won the lottery.

Pets possess the power to comfort and heal and lift spirits.

Lots of dogs and that 1939 date on the right side of the mural.

This image shows a portion of the Pet Parade mural gracing the side of the historic bandshell in Faribault’s Central Park.

This evening, my community of Faribault holds its 78th annual Pet Parade beginning at 7 p.m. I can’t attend. But be assured, if you’re there, you’ll view plenty of cuddly cuteness.

DO YOU OWN A PET or have a favorite pet memory? Feel free to share.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

This old house, a work still in progress August 6, 2014

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I ALWAYS WANTED TO LIVE in a big old white farmhouse that holds the history of generations. Abundant, aged woodwork and built-ins. A sprawling porch and plenty of windows with sunlight pouring in. Wood floors that creak with age.

A farm site along U.S. Highway 14 between Nicollet and Mankato.

A farm site along U.S. Highway 14 between Nicollet and Mankato with the type of old house I like.

That was my dream.

But as we know, dreams don’t always become reality. Rather, I’ve lived for 30 years in a smallish home along a busy street. Anything original to our old house was hidden behind dark, dreary paneling. My husband and I long ago removed most of the paneling, replacing it with sheetrock. We didn’t want to live in a cave.

Yet, one bit of 1970s cavedom remained—in the basement. It was time, after 30 years here, to begin the process of transforming our basement.

We are currently in the demo stage, thus the stacks of Styrofoam insulation/ceiling panels, paneling and wood edging our driveway.

Gutting of our basement is well under way. This photo shows paneling stripped from the clay tile foundation walls with some paneling remaining yet on along the stairway. The floor shows carpet backing scraped off, backing to be scraped off and the not-so-lovely carpet.

Gutting of our basement is well under way. This photo shows paneling stripped from the clay tile foundation walls with some paneling remaining yet along the stairway. The floor shows carpet backing scraped off, backing to be scraped off and the not-so-lovely carpet.

Now we’re adding to that debris pile as, strip by strip, the red-and-black striped carpet is being sliced from the floor. Underneath lie the remains of black carpet backing and glue, there for, we guesstimate, forty years.

So, on hands and knees, we have been scraping remnants of carpet backing from the concrete with one-inch wide gasket scrapers. It is a slow, tedious and labor intensive process. My hands and arms ache. My knees and back are sore. But there is no easier way. We tried a wire brush on the end of a drill. The heat warmed the glue enough to melt some of the backing into it. This is not what we want; we desire the cement as clean as possible. Solvents are not an option.

Original wainscoting uncovered beneath the paneling.

Original wainscoting uncovered beneath the paneling.

But in the midst of all this mess, I uncovered a treasure when I pulled a portion of paneling from the basement stairwell. Underneath was wainscoting. Why, oh, why would you cover wainscoting with paneling? The answer, I suspect, lies in the paneling fad of the 1970s.

Perhaps I could ask Nicky or Cheryl or Randy, whose names and heights were penciled upon the wainscoting in 1969.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Update: Vote for MN Prairie Roots daily for best blog August 5, 2014

southern minnesota scene best of logoABOUT MINNESOTA PRAIRIE ROOTS‘ nomination for Best Local Blog/Blogger in southern Minnesota…

Turns out you can vote for my blog/me more than once, as in once a day per email address, until voting closes on September 1. I just learned that today.

If you’re so inclined, continue voting for me every single day by clicking here (I’m in the miscellaneous category near the bottom of the page).

I know it’s a hassle. But I didn’t make the rules for this contest sponsored by the regional arts and entertainment magazine Southern Minnesota Scene.

To those of you who’ve already endorsed my writing and photography by voting for Minnesota Prairie Roots, thank you.

A big thanks also to all who have spread the word via social media. I am grateful.

Most of all, I am grateful for all of you, my loyal readers.

 

I’ll take country over big city any day

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Approaching downtown Minneapolis. Growing up on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm, I would travel with my parents and siblings once a year to visit relatives in Minneapolis. We got off at the 46th Street exit.

Approaching downtown Minneapolis. Growing up on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm, I would travel with my parents and siblings once a year to visit relatives in Minneapolis. We got off at the 46th Street exit. Thankfully lanes have been added since then. But I don’t understand that sign on the left: “RATE TO DOWNTOWN $ AT 42ND.” Whenever I see these signs entering the Cities, I wonder.

I CAN’T RECALL THE LAST TIME I’ve been in downtown Minneapolis. But it’s been more than 30 years since I’ve walked in the heart of the city and I have no intention of visiting anytime soon.

Almost to the I94/35W split near downtown Minneapolis.

The I94/35W split near downtown Minneapolis.

The big city is not for me. Give me wide open space and sky and fields and farms and small towns.

Give me horizontal, not vertical.

Minneapolis presents a photogenic skyline from afar.

Minneapolis presents a photogenic skyline as my husband and I bypass the downtown on our way to visit family in the metro.

Give me alfalfa or soybeans or a cornfield, not concrete and asphalt parking lots and buildings so tall I need to visually strain my eyes to see their tops.

I need to breathe, to see the horizon, to touch the earth.

Oh, you might advise me that I am missing out on cultural and unique dining experiences and whatever else the big city offers. Maybe. But I’ve found my own happiness in “outstate Minnesota,” as the geographical region outside the metro is termed. That moniker, even though I sometimes use it, seems to diminish the importance of anything outside the Twin Cities area.

I am thankful, however, that we don’t all like living in the same place. If that was the situation, there would be no rural, only metro. Or only rural and no cities. That, of course, is oversimplifying, but you get my point. We all crave different environments. That is a good thing.

The curving interstate and speeds of some vehicles can give the illusion of being on a racetrack.

The curving interstate and speeds of some vehicles can give the illusion of being on a racetrack.

I will always prefer a country gravel road over the racetrack craziness, or gridlock, depending, of a Twin Cities area interstate.

A gravel road just north of Lamberton in southwestern Minnesota.

A gravel road just north of Lamberton in southwestern Minnesota. File photo.

But that’s me, deeply rooted in rural Minnesota.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

And there was light & clouds & beauty everywhere in rural Minnesota August 4, 2014

Power lines between Redwood Falls and Morgan.

Power lines tower over a cornfield between Redwood Falls and Morgan.

ALL THE WAY HOME, from southwestern Minnesota to southeastern, I watched the sky and the light and the crops as daylight edged ever nearer night.

A farm site between Morgan and New Ulm.

A farm site sits next to a corn field between Morgan and New Ulm.

There’s something magical about this time when light angles sharp shadows and a certain glow prevails.

Along U.S. Highway 14 between New Ulm and Courtland.

Along U.S. Highway 14 between New Ulm and Courtland.

On this particular evening, grey mingled with white and blue, clouds stretching and towering and sometimes nearly imprinting upon the earth.

I waited for the rain. Then, just east of Courtland along U.S. Highway 14, one of Minnesota’s most dangerous rural highways, the sky opened. For a short period, rain rushed across the windshield, washing away residue of bugs and bird poop with each swipe of the wipers.

Traveling U.S. Highway 14 near Eagle Lake.

Traveling U.S. Highway 14 near Eagle Lake.

Soon enough, the rain stopped and dry pavement rolled beneath the van tires.

Grain bins along Minnesota State Highway 60 just off U.S. Highway 14.

Grain bins along Minnesota State Highway 60 just off U.S. Highway 14.

I focused once again on the light—the contrast of fading sunlight against battle grey sky,

Light ripples across a hillside of corn between Waterville and Faribault along Minnesota State Highway 60.

Light ripples across a hillside of corn between Waterville and Faribault along Minnesota State Highway 60.

light spotlighting a hillside of tasseling corn,

Just east of Waterville along Minnesota State Highway 60.

Just east of Waterville along Minnesota State Highway 60.

vibrant yellow traffic signs popping alongside the road.

Barn and bins behind a corn field near Waterville.

Barn and bins behind a corn field near Waterville.

The landscape appeared more focused, like a bold-lined picture colored with pointy new crayons. Sharp. New. Unrounded.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling