En route to Vesta and back, we passed endless ripening fields and farm sites, including this one in the New Ulm area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
ACRE UPON ACRE of drying corn and soybean fields unrolled before us as Randy and I headed west 120 miles from Faribault to my hometown for a mournful family gathering, this time to honor my cousin Jeff. He died unexpectedly at the age of 63 only three months after his mother, my Aunt Marilyn.
Here we were again, back at the hilltop Vesta Cemetery, circling around gravestones to hear Scripture, to pray, to sing, to comfort one another, to remember Jeff while a fierce wind blew and the bright sunshine warmed us.
On the northwest edge of Vesta, a sign notes a corn research site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
As I stood there, I took in the countryside of this prairie place. I love this land of rich, dark soil. This land from which seeds sprout, grow into plants reaching toward the sun. This is fertile land that holds the promise of a plentiful harvest. Redwood County has, undeniably, some of the best farmland in Minnesota.
Combining soybeans north of Sleepy Eye. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 12, 2026)
All through our 5-hour round trip, Randy and I kept a watchful eye on the crops, noting some nearly ready for harvest, others awaiting ripening. And in one spot north of Sleepy Eye, we came across farmers harvesting soybeans.
A gravel road southeast of Morgan threads between corn and soybean fields. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
We are both farm kids—he a native of Morrison County in central Minnesota. As such, our observation of crops comes from a childhood of living on the land, of working the land (Randy more than me), of watching our farmer fathers work.
Farmward Cooperative centers the agricultural business community in Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
On this mid-September road trip, I was, in some ways, transported back in time to the farm. My focus shifted to the impending harvest. Preparation. Grain bins emptied to receive new crops. Combines and grain trucks at the ready.
Corn has already been harvested at this farm along Minnesota State Highway 19 only miles from Vesta. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
A sense of anticipation prevails this time of year as farmers prepare to gather in the crops.
A barn near New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
But beyond the fields, I noticed, too, the detailed ruralness of place the farther west we traveled. West of Mankato, the agrarian way of life always seems more defined as distances between farm sites grow.
Cattle grazing in the Janesville area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
With fewer visual distractions, I see the barns, the grain bins, the occasional cattle grazing.
Roadside pumpkin stands, like Moll’s Produce near New Ulm, are beginning to pop up. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
I see roadside stands stocked with plump pumpkins ushering in autumn.
The soybean field backdropping this Old Sod Days sign south of Belview is beginning to ripen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
I see corn leaves curling, drying. I see soybean fields morphing from green to yellow to brown.
A partially-visible sign next to a cornfield thanks farmers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
Near Morgan, the site of Farm Fest, a yearly Minnesota agricultural celebration, I spot several signs thanking farmers. Likewise in areas along U.S. Highway 14 between Owatonna and Mankato, farm-themed signage billboards the roadway.
Sugar beets piled at a dumping station along Minnesota State Highway 19 between Redwood Falls and Vesta. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
There is reason to feel grateful for Minnesota farmers who grow the corn, soybeans and sugar beets I saw on this road trip. They work hard. They invest time, energy and lots of money in producing crops that benefit all of us. I could not do their job; I am risk averse.
Parked next to a cornfield along U.S. Highway 14 in the New Ulm area, a John Deere tractor for sale. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
In a year like this with current diesel fuel prices at their highest level ever, profit margins will be slimmer, if at all. I cannot imagine the stress farmers feel as they crunch numbers, check prices, budget for expenses, wonder how they will make loan payments or pay for diesel to fuel up farm equipment.
A billboard in the Janesville area advertises a seed brand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
It takes courage to be a farmer. Optimism. Strength, too. Yet, farmers are a resilient bunch. Come next spring, most will be back on the land, seeding another crop in anticipation of another harvest.
Plowing with horses at the 2025 Rice County Steam & Gas Engines fall show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
STEP ONTO THE RICE COUNTY Steam & Gas Engines showgrounds this Labor Day weekend in rural Dundas, and you’ll return to farming of yesteryear, exactly as the organizers intend. The fall show, along with the spring show in May, honors the past in a big way with hundreds of old tractors, several steam engines, demonstrations of long ago farming and a whole lot more.
An Allis-Chalmers guy through and through. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
This year’s show features the Allis-Chalmers tractor brand, noted for its signature bright orange color.
Square dancers dance inside the music shed at last year’s show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
But you needn’t be all that interested in tractors or even have a farm background to appreciate this event. There’s plenty more to do with a flea market, petting zoo, music, food, cornhole tournament, kids’ pedal tractor pull, mini train rides and on and on. Enough to keep you on the grounds for hours, if not a full day or multiple days. The event runs September 4-6 with gates opening at 7 a.m.
This pair works at shelling corn in 2025. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I approach this ag-focused show with historic, artistic and photographic interests. My farm background draws me to demonstrations like threshing, shelling corn and plowing. And among the rows and rows of tractors, I always search for my favorite B-Farmall, the tractor I drove as a farm kid, and a John Deere like my Dad’s.
I’m not old enough to remember steam engines, but these engines always draw lots of interest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
There’s something comforting about turning back the clock, of being in the presence of memories, of feeling a connection to my farming past. I am rooted in the rich black soil of southwestern Minnesota, the place which shaped me, my writing and my photography.
One of my favorite photos because of the admiration I see in the young boy’s eyes as he rides in the 2025 tractor parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Oh, the photos I find while at the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show. I’ve managed through many years of attending the fall and spring shows, to gather a collection of images that reflect a deep love and respect for the land, for farmers, for heritage. I especially delight in spotting “characters” or catching a “look” or a moment. Some of my favorites came last year while roaming the showgrounds and also while watching the tractor parade.
My favorite find at last year’s flea market, a Le Sueur-based Minnesota Valley Canning Co. commemorative Green Giant mug, which I totally regret not buying. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
The flea market has also always offered plenty of photo ops as I search for the weird, the quirky, the unusual, the artsy. More and more, I find merch from my youth, prompting long ago memories.
Look at the sheer joy in this boy’s face as he competes in the pedal tractor pull. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
Whether I’m perusing second-hand goods, touring on-site historic buildings like a 1920s farmhouse or an old one-room schoolhouse, visiting with friends, enjoying a burger from the Knights of Columbus food stand or an Amish-made fruit pastry, listening to music, meandering among the tractors, watching a farming demo or one of many other show options, I find myself immersed in the experiences.
A horse-drawn wagon offers rides at the farm show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)
Above all, I value this opportunity to reconnect with my rural roots, to celebrate my rural-ness, to honor those who’ve worked the land. Like my dad. Except for a short stint serving on the front lines during the Korean War, farming was Dad’s life. He milked cows, grew corn and soybeans, all in a time period of intense hands-on labor. He, along with my mom, raised six children to work the soil, to tend the animals, to understand the importance of faith, family and farming. And for that I am grateful
A legacy of kindness imprinted upon a tombstone at Valley Grove Cemetery, rural Nerstrand, reminds us to be kind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
KINDNESS, NO MATTER how big or small, can make such a difference to the recipient. That includes me.
Recently, two friends extended kindness to me in the way of gifts. One gave me an Undeniably Dairy cow-themed tote bag, the other a quilted runner.
Employees with Roselynn Builders, who specialize in rot repair, work to remove and replace rotted wood and windows on our house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2026)
These gifts came at a time when I needed uplifting during a major exterior house repair. Re-shingling and re-siding of our 100-year-old house due to hail damage should have been a straight-forward project. But then the unexpected discovery of dry rot led to a larger, much more costly, lengthy and complicated fix.
So I’ve, quite often in past weeks, felt overwhelmed, stressed and cranky.
The Undeniably Dairy cow tote bag given to me by my friend Theresa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2026)
Enter Theresa and Barb and their acts of kindness. Let’s start with the cow tote bag. While attending the recent Passport to Agriculture event at the Rice County Fairgrounds, I noticed people carrying multi-hued, mostly orange, tote bags featuring the faces of three Holsteins. I instantly wanted one.
A Holstein cow on an agri-tourism farm near Farmington. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2026)
I grew up on a dairy farm with that particular breed of cows. I loved the colorful cow bag for all the memories it brought back of living and working on my childhood family farm.
I told my friend and table-mate Theresa, while we were dining on free food provided at the ag event, that I needed a cow tote bag. Not wanted, but needed. After finishing a strawberry shake, off I went to find a coveted cow bag. But I arrived at the dairy barn too late for the freebie.
I hold fond memories of caring for calves, like this one on a Rice County dairy farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Theresa later promised she would get a Holstein tote bag for me. And she did. I found the bag hanging on my back door the other day. Busy writing in my office on the opposite side of the house, I didn’t hear Theresa knock over the noises of construction and traffic. She delivered on her promise and made me one happy former dairy farm girl.
The quilted runner gifted to me by Barb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2026)
Then there’s my friend, Barb, who one Sunday after church showed me an in-progress quilted runner. Barb is a gifted seamstress and quilter, like her three sisters. When Barb finished the toilet tank top runner I admired, she gave it to me. I love it.
The bright yellow flower rates as my favorite fabric in the blocks. It makes me happy. The “On Wisconsin” print reminds me of my second daughter, who attended college in Wisconsin and now lives in Madison with her family. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2026)
I love the varied fabric prints pieced together into 10 blocks by Barb’s oldest sister, Randine, who died in 2024 and who is named after their Norwegian grandmother. The block pattern, with pieces measuring less than two inches, was Randine’s favorite. She snipped pieces from her sisters’ fabric stashes to create many a block in this particular pattern. Barb eventually crafted the runner.
Another of the blocks sewn by Randine and crafted into a quilted runner by her sister Barb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2026)
The assorted small fabric scraps remind me of my paternal grandmother. Ida, too, was a prolific quilter who used even the tiniest swatches of fabric to craft quilts. So, like the cow tote bag, this quilted runner brings back happy childhood memories. My grandma would take me to her spare bedroom and show me layer after layer of quilt tops she’d sewn. She’d often have a quilting frame set up in her living room, filling the space. I remember hiding under it.
A close-up of the traditional Dresden Plate pattern in the foreground with a second quilt in the background, photographed at a quilt show many years ago in the Owatonna Arts Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Quilts hold stories and I was delighted to learn the story behind Barb’s quilted gift to me. Hers is a story about four sisters who, after learning to sew at home and in school, stitched their own clothes and went on to become avid quilters.
As a side story, Barb sewed a Pendleton jacket for her high school sweetheart, Don, whom she went on to marry. A photo of the jacket, worn by another classmate, was published in “The Echo,” the Faribault High School student newspaper. Barb didn’t want Don to know the jacket was really made for him. Her kindness didn’t end with that. While on a school band trip to Chicago in the late 1950s, Barb let a friend wear a bright yellow with orange smocked neckline dress she’d made. Even now some 70 years later, Barb recalls how beautiful her friend looked in that yellow dress.
An important reminder to be kind painted on a stone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I share these 1950s stories because they illustrate the kindness threading through Barb’s life.
Two friends. Two gifts—a cow tote bag and a quilted runner, both given to me at a time when I needed uplifting. I’m grateful for caring friends. And I’m grateful for kindness.
Acres and acres of corn grow in fields along this county road near Delhi in southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
SEEMINGLY ENDLESS FIELDS of tasseling corn stretched before us. Row upon row upon row of corn flanking the roadways along with soybeans and the occasional sugar beets. All three crops define the southern Minnesota landscape in July. But corn is decidedly king.
A farm site along U.S. Highway 14 near Janesville. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
As Randy and I traveled from Faribault to the Kletscher family reunion in Echo in Yellow Medicine County on the last Sunday of July, we observed the crops. Most looked good. But the farther west we went, we began to notice signs of stress in the corn.
Driving along State Highway 68 by Morgan in eastern Redwood County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
A July 21 drought monitoring report from the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources confirmed our observations with conditions listed as abnormally dry in my home county of Redwood and neighboring counties. Randy and I, even decades removed from the farm, can still accurately assess crops.
Spraying a cornfield just west of Redwood Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
To the west of Redwood Falls along Minnesota State Highway 19, we watched a bright yellow crop duster swoop low over the road in front of us, barely clearing the power lines to drop chemicals onto a cornfield. It was thrilling to watch the pilot’s daring descent while simultaneously wondering what the plane was unleashing upon the land.
Earlier, outside New Ulm, I saw a woman walking beans, meaning she was walking through a soybean field eradicating weeds by hand, a memory-familiar task. I walked a lot of beans during my youth. No chemicals used, only my hands and/or a hoe.
Corn surrounds this barn along State Highway 19 west of Redwood Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
From inside the cool, air conditioned van, Randy and I pressed onward, sheltered from the sweltering heat and humidity of the July day. We passed massive barns swallowed by cornfields. So much corn. Shortly before noon we reached our destination, the Echo Community Center.
This 1936 photo displayed at the reunion shows my grandparents, Henry and Ida Kletscher, with six of their children. My dad, Elvern, is smack dab in the middle, second row.Others include the oldest, Elaine, then Elvira, Mike, Harold and baby Clarence. (Photo studio unknown)
After several hours of food, conversation and sharing memories with extended family, we were on the road again heading the 130 miles back home to Faribault.
This farm site sits near Delhi. Those are sugar beets growing in the foreground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
The temperature had only risen, grown more stifling, more oppressive. Temp rising. Corn rising. Farm sites rising like islands in an ocean of crops.
Grain bins west of New Ulm will soon hold the harvest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
This is rural southern Minnesota, in the thick of the growing season. The promise of a bountiful harvest measured in growth, rainfall, and hail and windstorms avoided.
Transporting Allis Chalmers tractors from a tractor show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Just north of Sleepy Eye along State Highway 4, a semi truck hauled three Allis Chalmers tractors returning, said Randy, from the Orange Spectacular (Allis Chalmers Tractor Show) in Hutchinson. I picked up my camera, zoomed in and snapped two images, the second with the tractors appearing to drive atop a cornfield.
From this camera perspective, the tractors appear to be driving on the corn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
It was only an illusion, similar to the mirage of water slicing across the roadway on this hot summer day.
That’s not water on the road, only a mirage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Had we stuck around into the evening and paused beside a cornfield, we likely would have heard the corn growing. There’s scientific truth underlying that statement.
A tractor and baler wait along U.S. Highway 14 between Nicollet and Mankato. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
The adage of “make hay while the sun shines” also rings true. I noticed several farmers baling hay on this hot and humid July afternoon. Farming doesn’t wait for cooler weather. Just like corn continues to grow, stretching across the rural southern Minnesota landscape seemingly into forever.
Coneflowers and other flowers are in full bloom in the on-site gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
I’m detail-oriented. So when I was at the fairgrounds with my camera several days in advance of the fair, I focused on signage and other evidence of fair prep and readiness.
The smallest of signs in the fairy garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
In the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens on the east side of the fairgrounds, among all the plants and flowers, I found the smallest of welcome signs. In the fairy garden. Usually tiny figurines occupy the space along with small-scale plants and stones. But, none were there yet during my Saturday evening walk.
The Pledge of Allegiance on a banner in the sheep barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Over in the sheep barn on the opposite end of the fairgrounds, patriotic and 4-H banners, yet to be hung, draped pens.
The grandstand ticket booth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
The ticket booth was locked tight outside the grandstand, awaiting paying customers.
A cartoonish pig fits The Pork Booth concession stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Likewise concession stands were shuttered. I’m drawn to signage like that on The Pork Booth, which leaves no question about the food served there. The Rice County Pork Producers sell pork chops on-a-stick, pork burgers and pulled pork.
Barnyard signage honors a long-time fair board member. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
This fair is rooted in agriculture as noted by the line of barns stretching along the south side of the fairgrounds. A sign on the children’s barnyard honors Diane Hohrman. She started the barn for kids. The Northfield woman, who died in 2017, served on the fair board and was as an adult leader of the Big Giants 4-H Club for 33 years. I’d say Hohrman deserved this name-sake barnyard in her honor.
Bench signage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Small Holstein Club signs label benches outside the barns, a nod to a breed of cattle. My dad raised Holsteins, which I helped care for while growing up. But I wasn’t in any clubs, including 4-H. No time for that, Dad said. He needed his kids on the farm, not going to meetings or working on projects. That may have been short-sighted on his part. But I wasn’t arguing when Dad needed me in the barn or field.
Beautiful potted flowers outside one of the barns. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
The fair provides a good opportunity to learn about agriculture for kids and others not connected to rural life. That’s reality, vastly different from my youth when nearly all of my peers lived on small family farms.
A reminder from Rice County Public Health to wash your hands after going in the animal barns to prevent spread of disease. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copy
To celebrate agriculture up close with animals at the fair seems necessary in a time when many are a generation or more removed from the land. So the fair comes and goes each year, reminding us of our, or at least Rice County’s, agrarian roots.
TELL ME:What do you like best about a county fair?
A sign advertising the fair banners a fairgrounds building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
IN THE STILL of a Saturday summer evening, I wandered the Rice County Fairgrounds days before the fair opens for a five-day run July 22-26 in Faribault. I took in a scene which will appear and feel decidedly different once this annual “Where the City Meets the Farm” event begins.
Locally-based Schroder Concessions stands sit outside the grandstand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
This vendor sells cheese curds, including in a bucket. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2026)
You can buy 64 ounces of lemonade from the same vendor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
On this evening, with the sky tinged a muted pink by the setting sun, the glowing lights of two mobile concession stands offered a peek at the festive atmosphere soon to come. I could almost see the line of fair-goers waiting for a bucket of cheese curds, a foot long hot dog or an icy cold old-fashioned lemonade.
The food stand run by Bethlehem Academy, home of the Cardinals. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Nearby, permanent structures house long-time food vendors—the Cardinal Cafe since the 1950s, The Pork Booth, the 4-H Food Stand and others.
An inoperable carnival ride made in Faribault splashes color outside a livestock barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Food, fun and friends theme the 2026 fair, according to the fair’s website. That seems fitting as I consider the people who will gather here, some coming primarily for the food; others for the carnival rides; many to see the exhibits; others to show off their animals, talents, creativity and much more; many for the entertainment; and, above all, to connect with family and friends for a whole lot of fun.
Picnic tables stacked and ready to put in place for the fair. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
A sign directs visitors to exhibits. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
An old stock watering tank repurposed as a flower planter sits outside the sheep barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
But on this pre-fair evening, all was quiet. I observed a state of readiness. Benches and picnic tables stacked. Trash bins in place. Signs posted. Flowers blooming in stock tanks and other containers. Ticket booths set up. American flags flying atop the grandstand.
The Beer Garden is now The Stockyard, a place of beer and bands. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
And near the grandstand, I noticed a new sign, a change at the Beer Garden, now renamed The Stockyard. I suppose that’s appropriate given the agricultural roots of the county fair. It’s a catchy and identifiable tag.
A line of barns that will house animals stretches along the south side of the fairgrounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
I continued my loop around the fairgrounds, following the row of buildings that will soon house prized animals. Pigs, sheep, poultry, cows, cattle, rabbits and goats. Horses have their separate space across the grounds.
The back entry to the sheep barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Barn doors were locked. But near the end of the row, lights glared in the John Liebenstein Sheep Arena. I stepped inside the open air barn defined by rows of white wooden pens. I followed the clean-swept floor, passed by wheelbarrows. Already, families had claimed their spots with surnames marked on masking tape. Some were there Saturday evening preparing for the arrival of sheep.
Banners defining the purpose of 4-H and the 4-H pledge of head, heart, hands and health draped over a pen, awaiting display.
Brothers Keith, left, and Sam paint gates for the swine barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
And behind the swine building I found three young men—Keith, Sam and Charlie—rolling bright red paint onto metal gates to corral pigs. “Nothing like waiting until the last minute,” I teased, my comment not phasing them a bit.
Cotton candy will be available for purchase. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
In the final days before the fair, much will happen as the carnival sets up, vendors and kids arrive, and everything is put in place. I can only imagine the amount of planning and execution that go into creating an inviting and successful fair.
This shows a small portion of the garden, complete with benches, on the east side of the fairgrounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Over at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens on the east end of the fairgrounds, the pristine gardens are in full bloom, an oasis of natural beauty, a respite from the busyness of the fair. The next door conservation building has been reshingled and repainted.
The historic Pleasant Valley School and Holy Innocents Episcopal Church will be open during the fair. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
The Rice County Historical Society has been lining up volunteers to greet fair visitors inside the old schoolhouse and church. I got a call while on vacation, but couldn’t commit. Churches have been lining up volunteers, too, to staff booths. Likewise, businesses are set with promotional displays.
Looking up at the grandstand, which will feature races, an antique tractor pull, alligator wrestling and more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
Days before the fair opened, I felt a sense of anticipation that comes with any big annual event. Memories will be made here, perhaps while watching juggling, a magic show or alligator wrestling; playing free mini golf, BINGO or Euchre; listening to La Raza de Mexico and other musicians; perusing exhibits of quilts, photos and more; checking out the animals; interacting with Jack Sparrow the Pirate; going on a scavenger hunt; and more, oh so much more.
One of the food vendors already in place when I toured the fairgrounds Saturday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)
I haven’t attended the Rice County Fair in years, having been “faired out” decades ago as a young newspaper reporter and photographer covering several county fairs. But my pre-fair tour of the fairgrounds proved motivating. This just may be the year I return to the fair and wait in line for my favorite fair food—mini donuts. Or perhaps I’ll try funnel cakes, order cheese curds, grab an old-fashioned lemonade…
Once the Vesta Municipal Liquor Store, the business is now privately-owned. This has always been my favorite building downtown because of the unique tile front. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
WHENEVER SOMEONE ASKS if I’m from Faribault, I respond, “Well, I’ve lived here for 44 years, but I’m new.” I say that half-jokingly, half-truthfully. I’ll never be “from” here. And I am “new” because I haven’t lived here my entire life, like many have. And I’m not related to half the town (semi-exaggerating), like many are.
The City of Vesta maintenance building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Then I attempt to explain from whence I came. I start with Mankato, the nearest large city to the west, then work my way westward to New Ulm and Redwood Falls, eventually landing on my hometown of Vesta in northwestern Redwood County. Most have never heard of this southwestern Minnesota small town, but a few have.
The old St. John’s Lutheran Church, where I was baptized and confirmed before a new church was built and the building sold and converted into apartments. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Looking north on Vesta’s main street, once filled with buildings and businesses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
A building seemingly no longer in use, left, the now painted brick bank with a drive-up, right, and a complex of grain bins in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Recently I returned to this farming community of some 300 for an aunt’s funeral. After the church service, burial service and a luncheon at St. John’s Lutheran Church, and before the 120-mile return trip to Faribault, I stopped downtown. By downtown, I mean a single block, today defined primarily by vacant lots and abandoned buildings.
A former gas station and garage at the north end of Vesta’s main street. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Vesta, like so many small towns, once had a thriving core business community. That declined as society became more mobile, as young people graduated and left the area, as shopping habits changed. I could see that already when I left my hometown in 1974. My mom shopped for groceries once a month or so in neighboring Redwood Falls. That city and Marshall, 20 miles to the west, centered regional shopping then.
Looking south along Vesta’s main street, only a few businesses remain. The Vesta Cafe sits on the right. And in the distance, the liquor store and bank are at the end of the block. Parking is diagonal on the sides and parallel in the middle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
A Grain Belt beer sign hangs from the liquor store, which once also had a vintage Schells sign. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
This is a farming community as seen in these grain bins and the enclosed space where corn is often heaped after fall harvest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Back to Vesta today. The former municipal liquor store, now privately-owned, and the bank anchor the south corners of the downtown block, with the post office and grain elevator complex just across the street. Long gone is the towering grain elevator where farmers, including my dad, once delivered corn and soybeans. Clusters of grain bins now hold harvested crops.
The old Kletscher family farmhouse, left, with the “new house” in the background. I grew up in these two houses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots Kletscher family photo)
Also long gone is the feed mill and the lumberyard across the street. I remember going to the dusty feed mill with my dad. And I remember my mom gathering booklets of house floor plans from the lumberyard. After years of hoping and planning, my parents built a new house on our farm just south of town in 1967 to accommodate their growing family. We were all happy to move from our aged, cramped farmhouse into a spacious home with more bedrooms and a bathroom.
The city ice skating pond is apparently downtown now on this vacant lot as noted by the sign. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Downtown Vesta today bears little resemblance to the teeming town of my youth—the place where I was baptized, married, attended elementary school (long closed), ice skated in the shadow of the grain elevator, visited my grandparents… The place where I bought caps for my cap gun at Joe Engel’s Hardware Store, Bazooka bubblegum at Rasmussen’s grocery, a set of amber drinking glasses at Marquardt’s Hardware for my mom on Mother’s Day. The place where Dad occasionally treated me to a candy bar at Wiegers’ or the muni or to a bottle of pop at my Uncle Harold’s service station.
Grain bins dwarf the former Vesta Community Center, which centered community life. There we gathered for Memorial Day and Santa Day. There I celebrated my 1982 wedding with a reception and dance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
This is the place where I sold poppies on Poppy Day and read “In Flanders Fields” during the annual Memorial Day program. The place where I boarded a Greyhound bus as a kid and rode alone all the way to Minneapolis to visit an aunt and uncle. The memories go on and on.
This building may have been Don’s Cafe at one time, but I’m not sure. It’s changed too much for me to know that for certain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I knew I would eventually leave Vesta for good with no opportunities to keep me in my hometown. But that doesn’t diminish how much I still appreciate this prairie place which shaped me. I need to revisit Vesta occasionally to remind me of its importance in my life. I will be forever connected to this small town and its people.
The Vesta Cafe, built by the community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
This bread truck had just left the cafe and was driving by the post office when I photographed it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The Vesta Post Office on the south end of the main street replaced an older one. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Toward the north end of the downtown block stands the Vesta Cafe, new since I left, although Don’s Cafe was open when I was a kid. Locals gather here for morning coffee and cards, catching up on the latest. And when the town whistle blows at noon, as I heard it recently while standing at my aunt’s graveside, customers arrive at the cafe for dinner. And, yes, the noon meal is “dinner,” the evening meal, “supper,” in this rural area. Menu items and specials like hamburger corn hotdish, liver and onions, and a beef commercial draw diners. My Dad, on the rare occasion he dined out, would always order a beef commercial—roast beef piled onto white bread, topped with gravy, then a scoop of mashed potatoes smothered with more gravy. That’s the ultimate in old school rural dining.
Vesta is decidedly rural as shown in this truck parked along the main street. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
The liquor store and a former leather works business. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
A snippet of the land my father farmed, my middle brother after him. The farm has since been sold. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Rural rooted and grew me. From the once-flourishing community of Vesta to the crop and dairy farm across the Redwood River a mile south of town on the county road to Lucan, this prairie place shaped me as a person, a writer and a photographer. I am still “from” here, even though gone for more than 50 years now.
This barn sits along Minnesota State Highway 57 north of Mantorville. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
IF A SINGLE BUILDING symbolizes agriculture in Minnesota, it is a barn.
A massive barn in the Cosmos area, which is northwest of Hutchinson. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
Barns hold the history of farming within their walls. They hold the stories of farm families who labored therein. They hold memories—the heat of cattle, the lingering scent of manure, the pulse of milking machines, the scurrying of barn cats and much more.
Barns also hold heartaches and challenges and the satisfaction and rewards that come with farming.
A farm site in the Arlington area with a signature red barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
To step inside a barn, or even to observe one from a distance as I did on recent trips out and about in rural Minnesota, is to understand the importance agriculture plays in this state.
Photographed traveling west of Cosmos on Minnesota State Highway 7. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
Sure, farming has changed. Many barns no longer house animals, once a farm staple, as ag has shifted to crop farming. But at its core, this profession, this way of life, still centers rural parts of Minnesota, keeps small towns going. I saw that, from Mantorville to Faribault and from Faribault to Morris and back home.
A grain elevator complex with fading “Grove City Market Company” signage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
Barns dominate farm sites just like grain elevators landmark many small rural communities.
Efforts have been made to upkeep the aged farm building, likely a small barn, on the left. This is along Minnesota State Highway 57 between Mantorville and Wanamingo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
While I see too many dilapidated barns fallen into heaps of rotting wood, I also see those that are well-cared for, still standing strong against the ravages of time and weather. I know that comes at a cost to the landowner. Keeping a barn properly roofed and painted is a major expense. I appreciate efforts to preserve barns built by generations past.
A farm site in, I believe, Sibley County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
My ancestry traces to farming, to German immigrants who arrived in America, eventually making their way to southwestern Minnesota. There they found rich dark soil in which to plant seeds. Land upon which to build farmhouses, barns and other buildings necessary to the operation of a farm.
Still standing…the old barn and the old corn crib to the left. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
I am rooted in farming. I worked inside the barn my father built. I shoveled manure, scooped silage, pushed a wheelbarrow heaping with ground feed, carried pails brimming with milk, bedded straw, tossed hay bales from the hayloft, fed calves… I worked the land, too, picking rock and pulling cockleburrs. I carried lunch to my dad and uncles on hot summer days of baling hay.
Based on the side door and address number on the building, this barn near Hutchinson has been refashioned into perhaps a home or business. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
There is nothing romantic about farming. It is hard work. It is a risky business affected by weather, markets, prices, too many factors out of a farmer’s control.
A farm site near Mantorville along Minnesota State Highway 57. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
Yet, I will unequivocally state that I am incredibly thankful I grew up on a working farm. The lessons learned there about working together, about forging forward despite setbacks, about standing independent and strong are ingrained in me.
A pick-up truck kicks up dust along a gravel road in the Cosmos area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
My dad laughed when I told him I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up. He knew better. There was nothing to keep me on the farm. And so I left, went to college, became a journalist. But even though physically-removed from the farm, I’ve always carried my ruralness within me, reflected in my writing and photography.
This massive barn near Hutchinson appears to have been repurposed for another use besides sheltering animals. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2026)
I find myself still drawn to rural scenes. A farm site. A grain elevator. A gravel road. Cattle grazing. Farm machinery, especially tractors, traversing fields. These all define agriculture. But it is the barn which symbolizes farming and the enduring strength and hope of a farmer.
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NOTE: I took these photos from the front passenger seat, either through the windshield or side window while traveling at highway speeds. Locations of several photos are not noted as I don’t recall the exact locations.
A red barn and red outbuildings define this farm site along U.S. Highway 14 west of Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
THROUGH SEVEN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA counties we traveled—Rice, Steele, Waseca, Blue Earth, Nicollet, Brown and, then, home to Redwood. Westward bound.
Another farm site west of Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Only occasionally now, mostly for the annual family reunion and on this day a beloved aunt’s funeral, do Randy and I follow this 125-mile route back to my native Redwood County.
West of Owatonna, a cloudy morning sky dwarfs a distant farm site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Every trip, I see the immensity of sky and land as the landscape unfolds before me. The farther west we drive, the more rural the look, the feel, with the exception of Mankato and New Ulm.
A barn photographed along highway 14 west of Mankato. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
We bypass the small towns along four-lane U.S. Highway 14 while passing endless farm sites and fields.
This mammoth barn sits along Broun County Road 29 west of New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I have my eye on the view from the passenger side of our van, scanning the land, watching for photo ops. Photography can be a challenge while traveling at highway speeds. Still, I try, managing to capture images that document the ruralness of this place.
A well-kept, sturdy barn along Brown County 29 west of New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
Barns, especially red ones, always grab my attention. They symbolize agriculture more than any other building. Yet, most no longer center a farming operation. Absent of animals, many barns have been repurposed or have fallen into heaps of rotting wood. I always appreciate a well-kept barn still standing strong against elements and the passage of time.
A greening field west of Morgan along Minnesota State Highway 67. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
This trip I’m also cognizant of crops at the beginning of the growing season. Corn is popping up in rows across the land, green shoots reaching toward the sun, the sky. Green is good. When my next trip this direction comes in late July, that corn will stand towering and dense across acres of fields.
Entering Redwood County on Minnesota State Highway 68 east of Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
I may not be a farmer, but my connection to the land more than 50 decades removed from my childhood farm remains strong. I still look at the crops. I still hope to spot a herd of Holsteins. I still see a silo and mentally climb the interior ladder to throw down silage. I still eye a grove of trees with the playfulness of youth.
Farmward Cooperative, left, with downtown Morgan to the right. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
While nostalgia runs high on trips like this deep into Minnesota farm country, reality is that farming remains as challenging as ever with ever-rising expenses, low commodity prices and the uncertainties of weather. Will rain fall when needed? Will storms come with devastating wind and hail? Always, always, the risks exist from planting to growing to harvest.
Sky meets land and farm sites along Brown County Road 29 west of New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
But on this day, mile after mile after mile, I see the hope of a farmer. I see a way of life. I see dreams.
Minnesota State Highway 19 stretches before us between Redwood Falls and my hometown of Vesta. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
And I feel small in this place where land and sky dwarf farm sites, where fields stretch across endless acres, where the highway ribbons ahead of us across seven rural southern Minnesota counties, westward bound.
A photo of me with my mom taken several years before her death in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling)
AS MY FIFTH MOTHER’S DAY without my mom approaches, I’m thinking of her, missing her, remembering her.
She lived a long life, living until nearly ninety, something none of us expected given her heart issues. Several times we were called to her hospital bedside to say goodbye. I remember one instance when Mom was not expected to make it through the night. The next morning she woke up much-improved and told us, “I guess God wasn’t ready for this stubborn old lady.”
I’ll never forget that. But I would argue that Mom was not stubborn. She was kind, caring, compassionate, loving and patient. With six children, she had to be patient. I raised three children and understand the patience required of mothers.
We all hold memories of our moms—positive, negative and otherwise. Moms, like all of us, are imperfect. But they try. They do their best.
And sometimes they leave us a gift that offers glimpses into their lives. My mom left a stack of notebooks journaling her life from 1947-2014 with a few years missing. These are not diaries with personal feelings and thoughts expressed, but rather a documentation of daily life.
I treasure these notebooks filled with her handwritten observations and notes about life in rural southwestern Minnesota. Hard work filled her days. I pulled out her stenographer’s notebook dated 70 years ago to learn what she was doing in the 10 days before my birth.
Even into her senior years, Mom was still working, supervising a family horseradish-making event and then counting jars of the condiment. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2012)
There was the usual washing clothes in the Maytag wringer washer, mending, housecleaning, baking and preparing meals. But Mom also picked grapes with my dad, made grape juice the next day and the following day made 32 jars of grape jelly and 18½ quarts of tomato juice. And she was only days away from delivering me.
The day before I was born, Mom dusted floors, baked bread and cherry nut cake, took 13 dozen eggs into town and then celebrated her wedding anniversary with her in-laws. I’m tired simply reading that list of work she accomplished while nine months pregnant.
At 3 a.m. the next morning, Mom awoke in labor and arrived at the Redwood Falls hospital at 4:20 a.m., giving birth to 8 lb 12 oz. me 36 minutes later. That’s cutting it close, in my opinion. But when you go into labor in the early morning, need to get your one-year-old son to his grandparents’ house, and then travel 20 miles to the hospital, well, the time lapse seems reasonable.
The only photo I have of my parents, Elvern and Arlene, with me as a baby. My dad is holding my oldest brother, Doug. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo)
Six days after my birth, Mom returned home. I should note here that on her fifth day in the hospital, Mom wrote, “Days are plenty long.” I suppose for a woman used to being busy all the time, lying around proved difficult. But she should have enjoyed the respite from work while she could.
Shortly, Mom was back in full work mode, not only caring for a newborn and a one-year-old and doing other routine household chores, but also feeding a crew of men picking corn on the farm for several days running.
Oh, how I admire this generation of Minnesota farm women who fed and cared for their families and others without the modern conveniences of today. No automatic washer, dryer, dishwasher, microwave. No bathroom or phone in our old farmhouse. Food came mostly from the farm, not the grocery store. And that meant gardening and putting up produce.
A sample entry from Mom’s journals. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I’m thankful my mom found time to journal daily. Even if her entries were only several lines long, she apparently thought this documentation important. And I suppose in farming it was, allowing her and my dad to look back on the previous year’s weather, planting and harvesting progress, and such. But I think, too, writing in those spiral bound notebooks gave her a creative outlet and time for herself.
My mom saved everything, including this Mother’s Day card I made for her in elementary school. I cut a flower from a seed catalog to create the front of this card. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted image)
Mother’s Day offers a time to reflect on motherhood. Most give selflessly, love unconditionally, do the best they can. Mine did. And she left, too, her words chronicling everyday life as a mother and as a farm wife. As a writer I cherish this gift, not only on Mother’s Day, but always.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Barns, an enduring symbol of farming June 25, 2026
Tags: agricultural symbol, agriculture, barns, childhood memories, commentary, cosmos, farm sites, farming, Hutchinson, Mantorville, Minnesota, photography, road trip, rural life, rural Minnesota, southern Minnesota, travel
IF A SINGLE BUILDING symbolizes agriculture in Minnesota, it is a barn.
Barns hold the history of farming within their walls. They hold the stories of farm families who labored therein. They hold memories—the heat of cattle, the lingering scent of manure, the pulse of milking machines, the scurrying of barn cats and much more.
Barns also hold heartaches and challenges and the satisfaction and rewards that come with farming.
To step inside a barn, or even to observe one from a distance as I did on recent trips out and about in rural Minnesota, is to understand the importance agriculture plays in this state.
Sure, farming has changed. Many barns no longer house animals, once a farm staple, as ag has shifted to crop farming. But at its core, this profession, this way of life, still centers rural parts of Minnesota, keeps small towns going. I saw that, from Mantorville to Faribault and from Faribault to Morris and back home.
Barns dominate farm sites just like grain elevators landmark many small rural communities.
While I see too many dilapidated barns fallen into heaps of rotting wood, I also see those that are well-cared for, still standing strong against the ravages of time and weather. I know that comes at a cost to the landowner. Keeping a barn properly roofed and painted is a major expense. I appreciate efforts to preserve barns built by generations past.
My ancestry traces to farming, to German immigrants who arrived in America, eventually making their way to southwestern Minnesota. There they found rich dark soil in which to plant seeds. Land upon which to build farmhouses, barns and other buildings necessary to the operation of a farm.
I am rooted in farming. I worked inside the barn my father built. I shoveled manure, scooped silage, pushed a wheelbarrow heaping with ground feed, carried pails brimming with milk, bedded straw, tossed hay bales from the hayloft, fed calves… I worked the land, too, picking rock and pulling cockleburrs. I carried lunch to my dad and uncles on hot summer days of baling hay.
There is nothing romantic about farming. It is hard work. It is a risky business affected by weather, markets, prices, too many factors out of a farmer’s control.
Yet, I will unequivocally state that I am incredibly thankful I grew up on a working farm. The lessons learned there about working together, about forging forward despite setbacks, about standing independent and strong are ingrained in me.
My dad laughed when I told him I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up. He knew better. There was nothing to keep me on the farm. And so I left, went to college, became a journalist. But even though physically-removed from the farm, I’ve always carried my ruralness within me, reflected in my writing and photography.
I find myself still drawn to rural scenes. A farm site. A grain elevator. A gravel road. Cattle grazing. Farm machinery, especially tractors, traversing fields. These all define agriculture. But it is the barn which symbolizes farming and the enduring strength and hope of a farmer.
#
NOTE: I took these photos from the front passenger seat, either through the windshield or side window while traveling at highway speeds. Locations of several photos are not noted as I don’t recall the exact locations.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling