
WHAT SCARES YOU? If you say nothing, I won’t believe you.

Here are a few things that frighten me: Tornadoes, pandemics, bats, mice and unleashed dogs in public places. But not Halloween.

A time existed, though, when Halloween held some fright for me. Imagine for a moment a Halloween party in the basement of a local veterinarian’s house. Then imagine playing a game of touching objects while blindfolded. And then imagine being told you were fingering a cow’s eyeballs. That would be me, a gullible elementary-aged girl who truly believed that cold grapes were a bovine’s orbs. Why wouldn’t I trust the veterinarian’s daughter?

Fast forward six decades and I consider myself a Halloween observer. All around me, southern Minnesotans are getting in the Halloween spirit. Just up the hill from my house at 234 First Avenue Southwest, Coy and Kathy Lane transform their Faribault yard, the Cauldron County Scare Grounds, into a spectacular, interactive Halloween display.

While the Lanes buy many of their frightful props, they also craft many, making this a truly home-grown display that includes games for guests to play. Last time I stopped in about a week ago, they’d already counted 1,000 visitors to their Circus De Soulless which is open from noon-9 p.m. daily through October 31.

While out and about in the region, I’ve seen the creativity of residents, business owners and others who clearly enjoy Halloween.

Take Fate Vintage in Northfield, a Division Street antique shop now showcasing skeletons in funeral and medical scenes. Definitely creatively creepy, these front window displays draw shoppers inside to peruse racks of Halloween costumes and more in this packed store.
Looking at a “Happy Days” The Fonz Halloween costume here, I was reminded of the importance of choosing just the right costume. My two Minnesota grandkids, ages seven and 10, chose Gryffindor and Ravenclaw robes from houses at Hogwarts School as their Halloween attire. Mega fans of the Harry Potter book series, their choice did not surprise me.

Over in Elysian next to Scoops Ice Cream & Rentals, readers won’t find Harry Potter books in a Little Free Library. But they can take home books in The Vampire Diaries and the Goosebumps series.

To the east in Cannon Falls, the public library has gotten into the Halloween spirit by creating an outdoor “DYING FOR A GOOD BOOK” display. Staff slipped covers of fright-appropriate books, like Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Tales,” into empty DVD cases and hung them on a tree. I’ve always found the story of the headless horseman to be ghoulishly creepy.

Down the street and around the corner from the library, display shelves at Sweet Kneads bakery are filled with Halloween-themed cookies and cupcakes, some cutesy, like an over-sized green spider, and others macabre, like a blood-dripping knife stabbing a cupcake. It’s all in good fun.

Fun comes in choosing a pumpkin from a patch, roadside stand or store and then a parent carving just the right face while the kids supervise. I remember those jack-o-lantern days.

I also remember, and this is going back to my childhood again, the rock-hard popcorn balls handed out by my Great Aunt Gertie. To eat one was to risk a trip to the dentist. And, yes, my siblings and I chomped our teeth into the sugary sweet popcorn balls. Now I’ll take dark chocolate candy over any Halloween treat, if you’re so inclined to “treat” me.

Ah, Halloween. Onward with the fright, the fun and the sweet, and not-so-sweet, memories.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling















































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.
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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.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling