Minnesota Prairie Roots

A Sunday afternoon of memories June 11, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Faribault, memories, Minnesota, photo essay, Rice County, rural landscape, rural life, Sunday afternoon drive, travel

IT IS THE TYPE OF DAY when clouds dodge in and out of the sky. Mostly in. The type of day when I wonder if I should grab a sweatshirt heading out the door. The type of day when, one minute my husband and I are riding with the vehicle windows rolled down, the next zipping them up as the sun ducks behind clouds and cold air rushes inside.

It is the type of day, early in June, when grass and foliage appear vibrant green in a season of excess moisture.

And I wonder how, after a deluge of rain the day prior, cars can still kick up dust along gravel roads.

Everything seems sharp and new, as if I am seeing everything for the first time on this Sunday afternoon drive. And I am, after the longest of Minnesota winters.

Barns and farmhouses scattered between fields hold memories that cause my very soul to ache for missing the farm.

I grasp snapshots of prairie memories from the scenes that unfold before me.

Crossing the Straight River southeast of Faribault.

Crossing the muddy Straight River southeast of Faribault.

Me pedaling my bike over the bridge across the muddy Redwood River.

On the other side of the bridge, train tracks in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Me scanning the tracks as I cross the rails into Vesta.

The pick-up truck, a rural necessity.

Me sitting beside my Dad in his red-and-white Chevy pick-up, bouncing across the stubbled alfalfa field.

Birdhouse condominion perched atop a hill next to a building site in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Birdhouse condo perched atop a hill next to a building site in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Memories rise and fall like the hilly roads that twist and turn our van through the countryside southeast of Faribault.

Our drive takes us through Walcott Township in Rice County. I grew up in Vesta Township 120 miles to the west in Redwood County.

I’m unfamiliar with this place, yet familiar.

An aged Fordson parked alongside a road southeast of Faribault.

I know these barns, these farmhouses, these tractors, these fields. In another place, another time.

A farm upbringing imprinted them upon my soul 120 miles to the west of here.

FYI: To read my first post from this Sunday afternoon drive, click here.

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Delighting in the Sunday afternoon drive June 10, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Faribault, Minnesota, photo essay, rural landscape, rural life, Sunday afternoon drive, travel

The countryside spreads out before us as we begin our drive.

The countryside spreads out before us as we begin our Sunday afternoon drive.

MINNESOTA ATLAS SANDWICHED between us on the van floor, my husband and I head southeast of Faribault for our first Sunday afternoon drive of the season. The directional guide is primarily for my benefit as I occasionally have this urge to know “where we are.” We own neither smart phone nor GPS.

We prefer gravel roads over paved for the slower pace.

We have no specific destination, only aiming to follow back country roads to see what we can see.

We miss nothing, including the dog bounding out of the ditch.

As simple as that.

Barrels and a John Deere bring back farm memories of the burning barrel and the putt-putt-putt of the tractor.

We are those kind of folks, former farm kids who grew up understanding the value in a Sunday afternoon drive.

Emerging corn.

Check out the crops.

Of all the country smells, I think my favorite is that of freshly-cut alfalfa.

Of all the country smells, my favorite is that of freshly-cut alfalfa.

Breathe in the indescribably intoxicating smell of freshly-mown alfalfa.

So many old barns and the sweet surprise of this old corn crib.

Wind along gravel roads past time-worn barns and vintage farm machinery, curve this way and that, windows rolled down, tires crunching, taking it all in.

From old farmhouses to new home hobby farms, we see them all.

Glorious countryside, oh, glorious countryside.

Lovely wild roses in the ditch.

And then, an abrupt stop to smell the roses. Literally. Beautiful wild roses that filled the ditches of my youth spotted once again. I inhale their heady perfumed fragrance as I wade into tall ditch grass.

We even notice the rock piles and recall our days of picking rock.

For an hour or so on this Sunday afternoon, the worries in my life cease. I am with the man I love, checking out the crops, smelling the roses, taking in every detail of the rural world that embraces us.

Even signage does not go unnoticed.

Life is good. In this moment. On this Sunday afternoon drive.

(Please check back for more photos from this Sunday afternoon drive just southeast of Faribault.)

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Sweet vintage signage in Sleepy Eye & a theatre in need of rescue June 9, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: business, businesses, King Koin Launderette, main street, Mathiowetz Auto Body, PIX Theatre, rural Minnesota, signs, Sleepy Eye, small towns, southwestern Minnesota, Theatre, vintage signs

Classic vintage signage on the King Koin Launderette in Sleepy Eye.

EVERY TIME I PASS through Sleepy Eye along U.S. Highway 14 in southwestern Minnesota, I admire the same business signage, especially on the King Koin Launderette downtown.

With no time ever to stop for a proper photo shoot, I settle for a drive-by shot.

That laundromat sign is just so classic. You gotta love it.

Another eye-catching sign on the west side of Sleepy Eye.

Ditto for the simple geometric sign that’s likely marked Mathiowetz Body Shop for years. The garage style building and clutter of vehicles tell me this is a body shop, even if I miss the sign.

Can the PIX Theatre be reclaimed?

And, finally, there’s the PIX Theatre. Each time I observe the clearly abandoned building with those three aging letters and the hole in the marquee, I want to scream, “Please, somebody, anybody, buy this place and restore it.”

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One grand winery & pizza place in the Minnesota River Valley June 6, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Belview, food, Grandview Valley Winery, historical markers, landscape, Minnesota River valley, pizza, southwestern Minnesota, travel, vineyard, wine, winery

A vineyard at Grandview Valley Winery, rural Belview, Minnesota.

TWO YEARS AGO TOMORROW, in the scenic Minnesota River Valley north of Belview, a winery opened.

Folks have raved to me repeatedly about Grandview Valley Winery, located on land that’s been in a family (Wayne and Kari Rigge and John and Laura Rigge) for four generations.

Now, after visiting this winery, I understand their enthusiasm.

The winery and its vineyard.

But it’s not just the great homemade pizza and the wine that appeal to me. It is the geographic surroundings, the pronounced pastoral loveliness of this peaceful place positioned within the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

Entering Belview from the north upon returning from the winery. Grandview is nearly six miles north of this small town.

Pause to read the Boiling Spring historic marker.

Another marker notes the Knutson family farm.

To get there from nearby Belview, follow Redwood County Road 7 north, winding past farm places, past historical markers for Boiling Spring and the Knutson family farm, where my Aunt Iylene grew up.

Turn onto this gravel road just off Redwood County Road 7.

This is good pasture land.

Inpressive aged bedrock.

And then, shortly after the markers, turn east, your vehicle kicking up dust as you pass more farms, cattle grazing in pastures and mammoth bedrock heaped in hills along tree-hugged gravel roads leading to Grandview.

Almost there.

Arriving at Grandview Valley Winery.

Nearly six miles from Belview, you reach vineyard and winery.

Dine inside or outside on the patio to the left.

Solitude embraces with the type of comfort that comes from being in a locale where you feel cocooned from the world, sheltered from the worries and stresses and rush of everyday life. For me, it was the “I could live here” thought. Or at least escape here for a few hours. This marks the perfect place to sip a glass of valley made wine with delicious homemade pizza.

The nearly full parking lot.

Not that Grandview offers quiet dining. Quite the opposite. The gravel parking lot on this late May evening, is already nearly full. Inside the winery, diners pack tables while several groups gather on the patio. It’s almost a surprise to see so many here in this rural location, although I’ve been warned about the busyness and sometimes long wait for pizza.

The bacon cheeseburger and BBQ pulled pork pizza.

But on this Saturday evening, probably because of area high school graduation parties, my husband, a sister, my older brother and his wife, and I need not wait all that long for our two pizzas—halves of German, BBQ pulled pork, buffalo chicken and bacon cheeseburger. To my surprise, I find the sauerkraut-topped German pizza to be especially tasty and my favorite of the four.

The guys order beer, my brother choosing Goosetown, a German craft beer from August Schell Brewing Company in New Ulm. Goosetown is an historic nod to an ethnic New Ulm neighborhood where primarily Catholic, German-Bohemian immigrants began settling in the late 1800s. They kept gaggles of geese. My husband opts for Grain Belt’s Nordeast, another Schell’s made beer, because Goosetown is not on the beer list he’s been handed and he doesn’t hear my brother’s order.

I failed to photograph the wine. But I did photograph the wine list.

I choose a semi-sweet white wine made from Frontenac Gris grapes and finished with hints of peach, apricot and green apple. Rockin’ Coyote holds the promise of summer and the wild side of this land where I’m certain more than a few coyotes range.

Our conversation flows with the ease that comes from dining among those you love, those who know your history and your quirks and don’t care.

We laugh. And I am teased mercilessly for my gullibility as my sister-in-law reveals that crawdads will not be served at her daughter’s wedding as she previously told me.

Grandview feels like home to me, my connectedness as solid as the aged bedrock lodged in this land.

FYI: Click here for more information about Grandview Valley Winery.

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Light, oh glorious photographic light June 5, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Faribault, historic buildings, light, Minnesota, Minnesota State Highway 60, photography, photos, rural Minnesota, the golden hour, travel

Corn sprouts along Minnesota Highway 60 east of Faribault. Photographed around 7:45 p.m.

Crops emerge in fields along Minnesota State Highway 60 east of Faribault. Photographed around 7:45 p.m.

LIGHT. Therein lies a factor that can make or break a photo.

Any student of photography covets the golden hour, that time around sunrise and sunset when light softens and sets a magical mood and tone.

A gravel road shoots off 220th Street East southeast of Faribault.

Monday evening, driving to and from a friend’s rural acreage east of Faribault to gather buckets of rhubarb, moody skies and light drew me to raise my camera, to fire off a few rapid shots of the landscape.

A decaying farm site along 220th Street East.

This windmill and decaying barn and silo caught my eye along 220th Street East.

There was no time to pause and compose, only snap through the rolled down passenger side window of the van.

Back in town, that sweet sweet light, although fading, still mingled with hovering grey skies that threatened more rain.

Several blocks from my home, Willow Street intersects with Minnesota State Highway 60. To the left is the home, now a museum, of founding father, Alexander Faribault.

Several blocks from my home, Willow Street intersects with Minnesota State Highway 60, right, and Division Street, left. To the left is the home, now a museum, of founding father, Alexander Faribault.

Again, I lifted my camera, this time shooting through the windshield, to capture a few images of this place I’ve called home for 32 years.

A portion of historic downtown Faribault in the fading light of day.

Historic buildings define downtown Faribault. I love this downtown for its quaintness, its history, its small town feel (although Faribault, in my opinion, is not a small town with nearly 30,000 residents).

Historic buildings define the downtown area.

Historic buildings define downtown Faribault.

I often wonder why locals and outsiders seem not to value this historic district with the same enthusiasm shown to similar historic Minnesota communities like Stillwater, Red Wing and Hastings, even neighboring Northfield.

Such were my thoughts during the golden hour of sunset.

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Delhi: Little town on the Minnesota prairie June 4, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Delhi, farming community, photo essay, prairie, Redwood County, rural Minnesota, small towns, southwestern Minnesota, travel

UNLESS YOU’RE A LOCAL or a native, you likely bypass the small towns which sit off county roads, tucked away from trafficked highways that take time-pressed travelers from destination to destination.

Nearing Delhi at the intersections of Redwood County Road 9 and 6.

On a recent trip back to my native southwestern Minnesota prairie, my husband and I sidetracked off our usual route along State Highway 19 between Belview and Redwood Falls to follow Redwood County Road 9 to Delhi.

Decades have passed since I visited Delhi, at the intersection of county roads 9 and 6.

A sweet, well-cared for home in Delhi.

Most would surmise there’s not much in Delhi. That is until you look and consider that some 70 folks call this rural farming community home.

Another cute home with lovely landscaping that includes field rocks.

Home.

In need of a little TLC, both home and car.

While some residents care about their properties with well-tended houses, others show less interest in maintenance. That is not uncommon in small towns. Or perhaps such neglect is more noticeable with fewer houses.

Parked along the tracks just off Redwood County Road 6 west of Delhi.

Like so many small towns along the railroad line, this settlement once boomed. Information published in The History of Redwood County, Volume 1, states that Delhi was platted in 1884, shortly after the railroad came through the area. Alfred M. Cook, a builder and owner of a flour mill in neighboring Redwood Falls, named Delhi, according to Minnesota place name info on the Minnesota Historical Society website. He came to the area from Delhi, Ohio.

The front window of the 1910 Delhi State Bank is now mostly boarded with a painting of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The Delhi State Bank, built of brick in 1910, and now abandoned and apparently last used as a church, shows me that folks once believed in this place.

Driving toward downtown.

Not that they don’t anymore. But like all too many prairie communities, Delhi has mostly withered away.

Grain trucks parked near the grain bins.

Many other businesses once operated here, but they are no more, with the noticeable exception of a grain business. Delhi, in the late 1800s, housed general, drug, hardware and lumber stores, a hotel, a railroad and telegraph agent, a feed mill, a blacksmith shop, a farm implement business and more.

What a lovely church this must be inside as evidenced from the exterior.

What a lovely church this must be (or once was) inside as evidenced from the exterior.

The Presbyterian church today appears shuttered.

Evidence of faith in former bank and bin.

Despite all of this and the inclination to despair, I cannot help but admire the determination of Delhi to cling to the land. Prairie roots run deep.

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The death of a barn June 3, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: agriculture, barns, Delhi, farming, rural Minnesota

I’VE VIEWED PLENTY of time-worn, dilapidated barns in my travels through rural regions.

But never have I spotted one quite like this mammoth barn along Redwood County Road 6 south of Delhi. For those of you unfamiliar with Delhi, a community of some 70 residents in southwestern Minnesota, the name is pronounced Dell-hi. Not (New) Delly, as in the capital city of India.

The state of this barn struck me for its final fortitude, its seeming determination to hang on even with bones exposed, its very soul ripped away.

One can only imagine the previous condition of this barn, the proud farmer who walked through her doors, the cows, and perhaps swine, once housed inside.

Now, instead, a black hole marks a side doorway, a front doorway is barricaded by wood, the hay mow door hangs like a loose tooth.

Heaps of hay still remain, heaved there years ago by some hardworking farmer.

I am always saddened by this decay of an agrarian structure.

What stories does this building hold? Who labored here? What brought about this barn’s demise, marked now by a grain truck gravestone?

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I’m not a tree hugger, but… June 2, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Cottonwood, nature, prairie, southwestern Minnesota, tree hugger, trees, Vesta

MY AUNT JEANETTE has been duly informed.

The ancient cottonwood stands on the north edge of Vesta.

If she ever attempts to have the massive/towering/gigantic cottonwood in her yard cut down, I will be right there hugging that tree.

Now I am not a tree hugger in the true definition of a tree hugger. I would not scamper onto the limb of a tree to prevent its removal. For one thing, I am not agile like a squirrel. Secondly, I am not an outspoken, protesting type person, at least not in public.

But I did protest privately to my aunt when she mentioned cutting down that beautiful sprawling cottonwood gracing her yard.

The tree is messy, she explained, wondering then if I’d like to clean up the cottony seeds and sticky bud capsules dropped onto her lawn.

Point taken.

Yet, this cottonwood deserves special consideration given it’s likely the oldest tree in my southwestern Minnesota prairie hometown. It’s certainly the biggest in girth and the tallest tree in this community of some 320.

I can imagine the early settlers arriving in this mostly treeless land, wind-bent prairie grasses stretching for miles before them. And then, in the distance, the shimmering leaves of a cottonwood.

Or perhaps one of them brought a cottonwood seedling here, planted it on the north edge of this new prairie town.

Decades later, a tire swing looped by a rope to a limb, the sturdy cottonwood still stands strong against the vast prairie sky in my beloved hometown.

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