ON THE EVENING of the autumn equinox, I headed to Faribault’s east side, crossing the viaduct over the Straight River to Thomas Gardens along St. Paul Road. The business was closed upon my arrival, which mattered not to me. I was here to photograph an International 274 tractor and pumpkins during “the golden hour.” That’s an hour before sunset or an hour after sunrise when the warm, soft glow of the setting or rising sun proves particularly lovely for taking photos.
As I framed the tractor, staged as a photo prop in an autumn scene of straw bales, varied colorful pumpkins and corn shocks, I noticed the golden orb of the sun peeking through the treeline across the street. I remained ever cognizant of the light, diminishing with each snap of the shutter button.
I felt giddy as I photographed first that tractor and then masses of pumpkins outside the building. Colors popped in the perfect light. Multi-hued pumpkins. Deep orange ones. White ones. Yellow ones. Pumpkins with warty bumps, others smooth. Sooooo many pumpkins scattered across the street-side yard.
I remember when the previous owners of 50-plus years piled pumpkins onto flatbed trailers parked inside and outside Twiehoff Gardens & Nursery. Matt and Stefanie Thomas bought the business in 2019. Matt grew up on a dairy farm near Dundas, which pleases me given I was also raised on a dairy farm. Like me, he understands hard work. On his business website, Thomas writes about teaching his three kids the value of hard work, teamwork and family values. This seems a good place to do that.
Here the Thomas family grows and sells garden-fresh vegetables, flowers and plants, plus markets honey, maple syrup, Christmas trees and more from their pole shed style building, greenhouses and the yard where I roamed with my 35mm Canon EOS 60D camera.
When I finished photographing the tractor and all those pumpkins, I moved onto the flowers, mostly mums. The flower of fall. Single colors and multi colors in pots. Oranges, yellows, rose, even white.
I remained caught up in my photography until I glanced back at the tractor and the treeline. In that moment I realized I really wanted to watch the sun set at City View Park, just down the road a bit. It’s a beautiful site overlooking Faribault next to a city water tower and across the street from Trump’s Apple Orchard. We occasionally picnick here and watch the Fourth of July fireworks at this hilltop location.
But Randy and I arrived too late. I could see, as we pulled into the small parking lot, that the orange ball of the sun had already dropped leaving a skyline tinged with pink. Disappointment coursed through me.
Yet, others didn’t miss the sunset. Three teenage boys sat on a park bench facing the city overlook. As I walked toward them, I wondered why they were here, what they might be doing. Yes, I admit I thought they might be up to no good. I was wrong. They were here watching and photographing the sunset with their smartphones. I asked to see their pictures and they pulled out their phones and showed me the beauty I missed by my delayed arrival.
I took the opportunity then to praise them—to tell them how wonderful it was to see them outdoors, appreciating the sunset. Moments like this, generational interactions like this, conversations like this, matter. These youth understood the value of pausing to sit and watch the sun set across their city on the first evening of autumn. And I recognized the value of acknowledging that.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
The stories of two Marthas September 19, 2025
Tags: Ariel Lawhon, books, Buckham Memorial Library, Cambodia, Camodian Genocide, commentary, Faribault, healing, historical fiction, history, Martha Ballard, Martha Brown, Minnesota, The Frozen River
HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”
I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.
THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE
I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.
I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.
A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN
The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.
In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.
LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA
Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.
When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.
A MUST-READ BOOK
Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.
In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.
Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling