Some of the many birthday cards I received, including a watercolor floral, right, painted by my friend Valerie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
I REACHED A MILESTONE birthday recently. I didn’t celebrate in any big way. Birthdays have become for me almost like any other day. Yet, my closest loved ones assured that I would experience some memorable moments.
My birthday bouquet from the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
Let’s start with the morning of my birthday. Randy, per my “I would like a caramel roll for breakfast” word drop the evening prior, delivered on that. He also picked up the loveliest mixed bouquet of dahlias and other flowers from the Faribault Farmers’ Market. My birthday was off to a great start.
The rest of the day was low key with grocery shopping, protesting (I could have done without the obscene words shouted at us and the vehicles threatening our safety), a library visit, a walk between rain showers and then, for supper, take-out from The Twisted Chicken. The owner, when I told him my new age, proclaimed that no way did I look fill in the blank here. He even asked an employee to guess my age. Her answer of 55 was way off. I laughed. Whether they were messing with me or not doesn’t matter. They made me feel good.
Video chats with my second daughter and the 20-month-old grandson in eastern Wisconsin and another with my son and his girlfriend in Boston added to my birthday happiness. Above anything, I want to connect with family on my birthday.
My hand-quilled birthday card crafted by young women in rural Vietnam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
Earlier in the week, the Boston couple sent me a birthday card handcrafted in Vietnam. It features a clutch of reddish orange flowers created by rolling and gluing strips of kishu paper into a design via the art of quilling. This card, representing resilience, hope and the power of creativity, as noted on the back, will soon be displayed as art in my home. I love the piece and the from-the-heart messages the two wrote inside.
My family knows me well and how much I appreciate the arts. And cards. When my birthday card arrived from Wisconsin, it included abstract art by my toddler grandson. That immediately went on the front of my fridge.
Not to be outdone by their much younger cousin, my other two grandkids, ages seven and ten, gave an impromptu concert the following day for Randy and me. Surprisingly, it did not include the Happy Birthday song, but rather a short song the granddaughter wrote and then songs her younger brother is playing as he starts piano lessons. I couldn’t have asked for a more enjoyable concert.
The interior entry to Escapology in the Burnsville Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
The music followed my biggest birthday adventure, joining my eldest daughter and her family at Escapology in Burnsville where we tried to find a missing treasure in the game “Lost City.” We did an escape room several months ago at Copper Cat Escape Games in Brainerd and enjoyed it immensely. So we thought we’d try again. Although we found the treasure and escaped the room in Burnsville with several minutes to spare, it was not easy. We needed help along the way. I also struggled to see in the dimly-lit rooms. And all of us struggled to decipher markings. This experience won’t dissuade me from doing an escape room again though.
I joked with the Escapology game master that the treasure chest should have held chocolate coins. I expect my daughter was thinking, “I’m sure glad I got Mom a bag of dark chocolate sea salt caramel candy.” That’s exactly the sweet treat I found along with a handful of family photos when I opened a gift bag afterwards at her house.
I blow out candles on my slice of birthday cheesecake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
We gathered in the kitchen for my favorite dessert, cheesecake, among festive birthday decorations. I even had candles on my slice of turtle cheesecake as my family sang “Happy birthday!”
Family and friends, via cards, texts, video chats, art, music, flowers, treats and an escape room adventure, made this milestone birthday memorable. I felt, and still feel, incredibly loved.
Audrey Kletscher Helbling holds a copy of “Lyrics, Talking Stick #35”next to a Paul Bunyan cut-out at Jack Pines Resort. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling, September 2026)
I’M EXCITED TO ANNOUNCE that I am no longer simply a bridesmaid, but now a bride. “But, Audrey,” you’re likely thinking, “you’ve been married a long time.” Oh, yes, I have. However, I recently placed first in a writing competition, making me a “bride” after numerous past honorable mentions and second placings as a “bridesmaid.”
This past Saturday I traveled to Jack Pines Resort near Park Rapids in far northern Minnesota to collect my cash prize and to read my winning short story, “Ingrid’s Dream.” It is the story of a writer who plans to build a writer’s shed with wood salvaged from the barn on the homestead of her great grandparents. Conflict arises when her husband objects.
The beginning of my short story, “Ingrid’s Dream” as published in “Lyrics, Talking Stick #35.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)
I’m not giving away the ending to this 564-word short story. You’ll have to buy a copy of Lyrics, Talking Stick #35 published by the nonprofit Jack Pine Writers’ Bloc (no connection to the resort). But I will share that, even though I didn’t realize it while writing this piece back in February, real-life events subconsciously influenced my story. Operation Metro Surge, the federal immigration enforcement effort in Minnesota, was in full-on mode when I crafted “Ingrid’s Dream.” And Ingrid’s great grandparents were Norwegian immigrants with hopes and dreams.
This story is in no way a political statement. Those are not allowed in the Talking Stick competition. But it touches on immigration, reminding all of us that, unless we are Native or the descendants of slaves, we are, or are of, immigrants.
To read Ingrid’s story aloud to an appreciative audience of Minnesota writers and others on Saturday felt simultaneously humbling and empowering. I was honored to have my work initially selected by the Talking Stick editorial team for prize consideration and then chosen by Minnesota author Jeanne Cooney for the top fiction prize. Cooney writes the Hot Dish Heaven mysteries and the It’s Murder series.
(Book cover sourced online)
Lyrics, Talking Stick #35 features the work of 68 writers who are either Minnesotans or who have a strong connection to our state. That’s an entry requirement. In this year’s contest, 132 writers submitted 330 entries with 71 poems, 18 creative nonfiction stories, 15 fiction stories and 17 creative twist stories chosen for publication.
This shows past volumes of “Talking Stick” in which my work has published. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2024)
I enter in all four categories, a bit of an anomaly among writers. My writing has published for nearly 20 consecutive years in the Talking Stick anthology. In addition to the fictional “Ingrid’s Dream,” my creative nonfiction entries, “About That Hole in the Wall” and “Unlocking Silence,” made it into this year’s book. One is about an embarrassing cardboard wall covering a hole in my dining room and the other about an aged accordion gifted from an aunt to her nephew.
While listening to other writers read their works at Jack Pines Resort, I was once again reminded of the incredible creative talent rooted in Minnesota. This includes recognizable names like Nicole Borg, Charmaine Pappas Donovan, Laura L. Hansen, Margaret Hasse, Mike Lein, Niomi Rohn Phillips and more along with Brenda Charpentier, a newbie to the competition and first place winner in creative nonfiction. Like me, she comes to creative writing with a journalism background as does another writer, Bernadette Hondl Thomasy, originally from Owatonna and with a poem and creative nonfiction story published in Lyrics, Talking Stick #35.
My admiration of Minnesota writers was reinforced after the reading when some of us socialized and talked shop afterwards over dinner. Writing is such a solitary pursuit. But in gathering with others who love the craft, I felt a surge of energy, of validation, of gratitude that I can do what I love. Write.
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.
Poets D.E. Green, left to right, Becky Boling, Rob Hardy, Audrey Kletscher Helbling and Dougie Padilla with publications including their poetry. Missing, Larry Gavin. (Photo credit: Content Bookstore)
UNITED WE READ at Content Bookstore in Northfield. Earlier this evening six Rice County poets, including me, shared our poetry. Not just any poetry, but poems we’ve penned mostly themed to what’s unfolded in America with immigration enforcement, the war in Iran, threats to our democracy…
Anger. Frustration. Hope. Truth. Passion. Those topics threaded through poems by Northfield poets Becky Boling. D.E. (Doug) Green, Rob Hardy and Dougie Padilla and Faribault poets Larry Gavin and me. I read two poems on-topic and two off.
I am grateful to this independent bookstore for supporting writers not only through the sale of books, but also through readings. Listening to a poet read adds a depth to a poem that you don’t get simply by reading it in print. Emotion, word emphasis, volume and more factor into that.
To the attentive and appreciative audience, thank you for coming out on a Thursday evening to listen, to encourage the six of us in our poetry and to support your local independent bookstore.
United we write. United we read. United we raise our voices.
A protester stands at the intersection of Minnesota State highways 3 and 19 in Northfield last Friday afternoon. The inflatable frog costume traces to protests in Portland, Oregon, and signifies a humorous, nonviolent form of creative resistance. The dog’s sign reads, “Love & Kindness for a better world.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
SIX POETS, me included, will read our poetry beginning at 7 p.m. Thursday, May 14, at Content Bookstore in Northfield.
I am honored to be in the company of prolific and talented poets Becky Boling, D.E. (Doug) Green, Rob Hardy and Dougie Padilla all of Northfield and Larry Gavin of Faribault. I’ve previously read with everyone except Padilla and consider them friends.
Poets will read from this publication on Thursday evening in Northfield. (Cover sourced online)
I will read two poems from this collection published by Content Bookstore. (Cover sourced online)
Two of the poems I plan to read—“Death of a Poet” and “Fiery Resistance”—are also anti-ICE. They published in Content Bookstore’s chapbook, Words to Meet the Moment: Poetry Against Fascism.
The years 2025 and 2026 have, indeed, been a time for us to use our words to resist, to rise up, to make a difference. Minnesotans did during Operation Metro Surge and continue to do so. I continue to write. I continue to protest. I continue to speak up, refusing to remain silent.
The table of contents for Words to Meet the Moment. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2026)
Words hold power. When we stand united on issues, like preserving our democracy, supporting our immigrant neighbors, protecting voting rights, opposing an unnecessary war, calling out wrongs and much more, we can collectively make a difference. At some point those who hear, but disagree, may finally begin to understand what’s at stake.
Poetry matters. To step up to the mic in an independent bookstore in a small Minnesota college town to read the passionate anti-ICE poems I crafted may not seem like much. But when I am joined by five other poets who also fired poems that could melt ICE, we become part of a movement, a force. We care about our neighbors, about Minnesota, about our country, about the world enough to pen powerful poetry.
Join us from 7-8:30 p.m. Thursday to hear our poetry. United we write. United we read. United we rise.
Mark Heiman designed the book cover. (Image sourced online)
IN A SLIM VOLUME of poetry collected by a small town Minnesota independent bookstore and printed by a small town printer, 22 area poets raise their voices in response to the massive immigration enforcement efforts in Minnesota. The result is 26 powerful, empowering, strongly-worded poems that hold back nothing.
These poets unleash their fury, their fears, their frustrations, layers of intense emotions. “Let every poem be a witness,” writes my friend and former Northfield Poet Laureate Rob Hardy in his poem, “A Witness.” He writes that in the context of the fatal shooting of mother and poet, Renee Nicole Good, by a federal immigration agent on the streets of Minneapolis on January 7.
The poets and their poems plus an intro by Lindsay Ness, co-owner of The Grand Event Center. She introduced a “Words to Meet the Moment: Poets Against Fascism” poetry reading which preceded publication of this chapbook. If you find the title of a poem offensive, read the poem and you will understand the title. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
Two poems, “Last Words” by Susan Jaret McKinstry and “I’m Not Mad at You” by Marie Gery, quote Renee Good’s final words—”I’m not mad at you”—spoken to a federal immigration agent right before her fatal shooting.
The words within these 26 poems reflect not only individual poets’ thoughts but also a collective community reaction to ICE in Minnesota. Themes of anger, fear, unity, dignity, hope and light run throughout this poetry.
Colorful merchandise inside Mercado Local in Northfield, where I met Mar Valdecantos and read poetry with Becky Boling and D.E. Green. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I especially appreciate the writing of two immigrants, including my friend Mar Valdecantos, who came to the U.S. from Spain many years ago. She uses humor to make a point, stating that perhaps she should cover her dark hair with a blonde wig. That would allow her to semi hide her ethnicity and allow her to feel safer while out and about in the community. Safe against racial profiling, used freely by immigration agents to stop people of color in Minnesota.
Latino immigrant Heriberto Rosas, in “Minnesota es un lugar de contrastes,” writes of whence and why he came to America, the challenges he and other immigrants have faced, and the hope and gratitude they hold. It’s an especially revealing poem written in Spanish and translated into English on the opposite page.
My poet friend D.E. (Doug) Green also writes “hope” into his poem, “A Bridge Too Far,” as he references the Civil Rights Movement and the bridge crossed, literally, “in the face of violence, cruelty and terrible hatred.” A bridge which must once again be crossed.
I picked up my copy of the chapbook at Content Bookstore after a morning of protesting in Faribault, thus the flat hair. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling)
These poems are raw, relentless, sometimes raging in content. That includes my “Fiery Resistance” and “Death of a Poet.” Words hold power. “We the people have a job to do,” writes Orick Peterson in “ICE Prowls Our Streets.” He asks us to muster our courage against the bullies, take on our neighbors’ fears, lean into each other.
Steve McCown, who died unexpectedly on the day he was to read his original poem, “Ice and Fire,” at a “Words to Meet the Moment: Poetry Against Fascism” event on January 18 in Northfield, summarizes everything well in the final line of his poem: “We can build a fire on ice.” Let me repeat his final line, with emphasis: “We can build a fire on ice.”
FYI: The 42-page chapbook, Words to Meet the Moment: Poetry Against Fascism, is for sale only at Content Bookstore in Northfield. Cost is $10. The bookstore will ship domestically at a cost of $4.99, the media mail book rate, with an additional $1 charge for each book ordered.
Content Bookstore published the chapbook with printing By All Means Graphics. The original print run is 300 books. Once expenses are paid, proceeds from sale of the chapbook will go to the Northfield Community Action Center.
Walking along the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park on a recent winter day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
WITH WINTER OFFICIALLY LAUNCHED, it’s easy enough to stay home, settle in, curl up with a good book and avoid the ice, cold and snow that define Minnesota weather in January. When winter burrows in, I’m more inclined to hibernate. But I push myself to get out. It’s good for my physical, mental and emotional health.
An extensive city trail system runs throughout Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Faribault offers plenty of options for aging Baby Boomers like me and others who simply want to take a walk. On the worst of winter days, I can loop around the soccer field at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, which opens its dome to the public most weekday mornings (except holidays) from November into early spring. Hours vary, but generally run from around six-ish to 9:30 am.
The Straight River Trail stretches before me in the area known as Frog Town. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
And when I want to be outdoors, the city’s paved recreational trails are usually cleared, allowing me to safely immerse myself in nature. There’s something about walking outdoors at a brisk pace on a cold winter day that invigorates.
Even in the drab winterscape, color can be found, such as in these dried berries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Sometimes, though, I opt to carry my camera and focus on the environment rather than upping my heart rate. Photography improves my well-being, too, because I begin to notice nature’s details in a mostly monochrome landscape. Winter’s beauty emerges. And that is good for my spirit, my soul, my creativity.
The Straight River is anything but straight as it winds between woods and bluffs in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
I especially delight in following the Straight River Trail because water, whether frozen or flowing free, mesmerizes me. I think humans have always been drawn to water. Near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park, the Straight River curves, winding through the woods, under the railroad bridge, along the bluffs.
Barely discernible, a temporary riverside shelter in the woods near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
On a recent afternoon along the trail, with Canon camera in hand, I spotted a flash of red across the river in the woods. From a distance and through the trees, I couldn’t clearly distinguish details. But I knew this was a temporary shelter for someone without a permanent home. I saw a person shoveling snow.
Tangled twigs along the Straight River Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
And I thought of my poem, “Misunderstood,” inspired by a previous walk along the Straight River Trail. That poem published in 2024 in Talking Stick 33, Earth Signs, a Minnesota literary anthology:
Misunderstood
Tents cluster along the Straight River,
home to the homeless on land
once held by the Wahpekute.
History and hardship merge here
in long-ago and present-day stories.
Bison skin tipis and nylon tents.
Different times. Different peoples.
Drawn to the water, the sheltering woods.
Misunderstood then. Misunderstood now.
This homemade trail sign, screwed to a tree along the Straight River Trail in Frog Town, leads to a path beaten through the snow. I did not follow the unofficial trail, not this time. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Getting outdoors feeds my creativity. If not for that walk and my knowledge of Faribault history, I would not have crafted that poem about the Dakota and those experiencing homelessness today in my community. I observe, photograph, write, creating photos and stories that need to be shared.
When I walked into Ron’s hodgepodge of a shop in downtown Waterville, I found him working on a puzzle. I asked to take his photo and he agreed. He loves puzzling and that shows. I really like this everyday slice-of-life-in-a-small-town portrait. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
THROUGHOUT THE YEAR, I take thousands of photos, many of them at public events. At these gatherings, whether celebratory or somber, I am drawn to document moments of humanity. Perhaps it’s a look, a reaction, an interaction. I’ve been doing photography long enough to understand when something will make a good photo. And when I say “good,” I mean a well-composed image that tells a story and, hopefully, garners a reaction from anyone who sees it.
I come from a journalism background, earning a degree in mass communications, news-editorial emphasis, in 1978. I was required to take a few photography classes as part of that long ago degree. Those taught me the basics, which I carried with me to every newspaper reporting and freelance job I’ve ever held. I didn’t always have the luxury of a staff photographer. I was the reporter and the photographer.
In the decades since, from film to digital, I’ve gained confidence and skills in photography. And I continue to the love the craft. For me, photography centers on storytelling.
As I’ve been out and about in southern Minnesota during 2025, I’ve used my Canon EOS 60D, an older DSLR camera, to document what I’ve seen. Among the thousands of people photos I took this past year, I chose my top 12 to highlight in this end-of-year post. Only one image, the photo at the top of this post, was not photographed at a public gathering.
Enjoy! And feel free to share your thoughts in the comment section.
I caught the moment a firefighter rang a bell outside the Faribault fire hall during a 9/11 commemoration. The morning light was perfect and everything fell into place to make this an especially moving photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2025)
A tender moment when a mom retied a ribbon on her daughter’s Czech costume during a dance at Montgomery’s Czech May Day celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Oktoberfest in Dundas provided plenty of photo ops, including this one where a young boy wanted to join the dancing adults.Or maybe he was just watching, happy to be on the sideline. Whatever, I like the photo a lot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
In this inter-generational scene, a grandfather teaches marbles to his grandsons at the Valley Grove Country Social, rural Nerstrand. They were so intent on the game that they paid me no attention, just as I like it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I found this scene humorous and likely relatable for every guy who has ever waited for their partner to finish shopping. I took the image outside RR Revival in Lonsdale during a craft show in that small town. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
If ever there was a photo that exudes love of country in rural Minnesota, it is this image of a wagonload of people heading to the Memorial Day program at the Cannon City Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
In the context of everything happening in America, especially in Minnesota, this photo sends a strong message of American pride. These Somali-American children, U.S. flags in hand, watched the Memorial Day parade in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
As a cannon shot off during the Riverside Rendezvous & History Festival in Faribault, attendees were told to cover their ears for protection. I framed this scene to tell that story. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
There were no second chances to get this photo of two women greeting each other at a downtown Faribault Car Cruise Night. I love the joy I was able to photograph in one single shot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
The Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show tractor parade offers plenty of photo ops. I see total admiration on this young boy’s face and was delighted to photograph that sweet moment. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
I loved watching and documenting the younger and older generations shelling corn together at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show in a living rural history scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
Two of my poems and a work of creative nonfiction are published in this literary anthology. (Book cover sourced online)
FOR THE 16thCONSECUTIVE YEAR, my writing has been selected for publication in the Talking Stick, a literary anthology published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc based in northern Minnesota.
The editorial board chose two of my poems, “Up North at the Cabin” and “Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire,” and a work of creative nonfiction, “Birthing Everett,” for publication in volume 34, titled Toward the Light. The recently-released book features 128 pieces of writing by 76 writers either from Minnesota or with a strong connection to the state.
I consider it an honor to be published in the Talking Stick, which includes the work of talented writers ranging from novice to well-known. I especially appreciate that entries are blind-judged so each piece stands on its own merits. There were 275 submissions from 119 writers for this year’s competition.
Grandpa Randy and grandchildren Izzy and Isaac follow the pine-edged driveway at the northwoods lake cabin. This is my all-time favorite cabin photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)
I’m particularly excited about two of my pieces published in Toward the Light. Anyone who’s ever spent time at a lake cabin will enjoy my “Up North” poem as it centers on nature and family togetherness. I was in my sixties before I first experienced cabin life. Now I’m building memories with my grandkids each summer at a family member’s lake cabin. That centers this poem.
My grandson Everett, nine months old, plays with his toys in his Madison, Wisconsin, home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
A grandchild also focuses “Birthing Everett,” a deeply personal story about the birth of my 10-pound grandson in January. My daughter Miranda nearly died during childbirth. I knew I needed to write about this to heal from my own trauma of nearly losing her. I will be forever grateful to the medical team at UnityPoint Health-Meriter Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, for saving Miranda’s life. You just don’t think of women dying during childbirth any more, but it can, and does, happen.
POETRY, WHEN READ ALOUD, is, in many ways, like music. It presents one way on paper. But read a poem aloud, and it becomes a song. Music with rhythm, beat and emotion. Vocal intonations carry a poem to melodic heights.
Becky Boling’s recently-published collection of her poems. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
At 6 p.m. Thursday, May 22, the music of poetry will fill Books on Central in Faribault as Becky Boling reads from her first anthology, Here Beyond Small Wonders. Recently published by Finishing Line Press, this collection features detail-rich poems that often focus on ordinary subjects. It’s signature Boling, who is a prolific poet, served as Northfield’s co-Poet Laureate, and is retired from teaching Spanish and Latin American Literature at Carleton College in Northfield.
I love Boling’s writing. Her poems resonate with me in an everyday life kind of way. She has a visually-strong writing style—as most poets do—coupled with emotion-evoking poetry that prompts memories, questions, deeper thinking.
(Literary Event promo courtesy of Books on Central)
Boling has invited four other poets to join her at Thursday’s reading. Those include her husband, D.E. Green, also an accomplished poet; Northfield poet Heather Candels; Faribault poet Larry Gavin; and me. I’m honored to join this gifted group of writers in reading our poems aloud. I will read right after Boling.
I’ve previously listened to all of them read, so I can vouch for how much I’ve enjoyed hearing them. Gavin, especially, has a rich radio voice that makes me want to settle in and let his voice pull me into his writing.
Now, as I’m preparing for this Thursday evening event, I’m paging through the many books in which my poetry has published, selecting the poems I want to read during my allotted five minutes. Then I’ll practice reading those poems aloud, using my voice to create poetic music.
This used bookshop is located in the heart of downtown Faribault along Central Avenue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
FYI: Books on Central, 227 Central Avenue North, Faribault, hosts periodic free literary events to celebrate authors and to draw people into this volunteer-run used bookstore operated by Rice County Area United Way. All proceeds benefit select nonprofits in the county. It’s a beautiful small space (complete with a centering chandelier) housed in a former jewelry store.
Recent Comments