Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

All things purple during Domestic Violence Awareness Month October 7, 2025

Ruth’s House sells mums and more outside Faribault Fleet Supply Tuesday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

MASSIVE PURPLE MUM plants packed a wagon parked outside Faribault Fleet Supply when I stopped by Tuesday morning to pick up a multi-purpose plant spray.

Nearby, two women staged mums on the pavement next to a purple canopy bannered with “Ruth’s House.” A sign placed among the mums identified this as the “Purple Porch Project. STOP THE SILENCE, END DOMESTIC VIOLENCE.”

October marks Domestic Violence Awareness Month, a nationwide effort to raise awareness about the signs of domestic violence and ways to stop it, support survivors and advocates, and provide information and resources to those who are in positions of leadership and policy-making. Purple is the identifying color for this month-long endeavor.

The State Bank of Faribault promotes the Purple Porch Project outside a parking lot entrance to the bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Ruth’s House, marketing the purple mums, is an emergency/transitional shelter in Faribault for women and children in crisis and a sober living space for women transitioning from in-patient treatment. Those who temporarily move into Ruth’s House may be homeless due to domestic violence, poverty, substance abuse disorder, health challenges or other issues.

Whatever the reasons for their homelessness, I’m thankful my community has a house to call home for these women and their families. Likewise, I’m grateful for HOPE Center, another local organization that supports survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault with Hope, Outreach, Prevention and Education.

Both Ruth’s House and HOPE Center rely heavily on individual and community financial support, and also on government grants, to operate. And we all know that counting on government funding right now is tenuous at best. Thus fundraisers like Ruth’s Purple Porch Project are happening with the sale of $20 purple mums; a $100 Purple Porch décor kit (includes a handcrafted purple door wreath, 66 feet of purple string lights, a purple mum and a yard sign symbolizing unity); a $25 DIY purple wreath kit; and a $20 Ruth’s House yard sign.

This children’s playhouse, displayed outside Faribault Fleet Supply, is the grand prize in the Ruth’s House raffle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Additionally, Ruth’s House is selling $10 raffle tickets for a children’s playhouse, wooden swing set, bike and helmet, arts & crafts table and chair set, play kitchen with table and two chairs; and a family game night basket. Ticket sales will help fund children’s programs at the emergency shelter.

Any of the fundraising items can be ordered/purchased online by clicking here. Or, if you live in the area, stop by Faribault Fleet Supply.

Mostly, I want you to pause for a moment and reflect on domestic violence. And if you don’t know that much about it, take time to learn. (Click here.) So many misconceptions exist about domestic violence with that oft asked question of “Why doesn’t she just leave?” It’s not that easy. It’s complicated and difficult and even potentially dangerous without a safe plan in place.

Do what you can. Support. Encourage. Love. Advocate. Be there. Listen. Help. It takes all of us, individually and collectively, to stop domestic abuse and violence.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Plenty of pumpkin stands popping up

A customer picks pumpkins at a roadside stand along Minnesota State Highway 19 in Stanton. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

FROM PUMPKIN PATCH to pop-up roadside stands and elsewhere, pumpkins are popping up everywhere just weeks away from Halloween.

Pumpkins for sale at Little Prairie Sunflower, Pumpkin & Produce roadside stand along Minnesota State Highway 3 between Faribault and Dundas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I love the pops of color these seasonal stands add to the landscape, setting the mood for October and the fun festivities the month brings.

Pumpkins of all sizes and shapes for sale at the Little Prairie stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Growers gather in the pumpkins, heaping them atop wagons for ease of display and purchase.

A payment box and price list for mums and other plants at a seasonal roadside stand in Stanton. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Buying is made easy with secure drop boxes, pay on the honor system via cash, check or Venmo. I love the trust the sellers place in the buyers.

Oversized pumpkin art directs passing motorists’ attention to the Stanton pumpkin stand backed by a cornfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Decorative Indian corn decorates the pumpkin wagon at Stanton. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Beautiful potted mums for sale at the Stanton stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I love, too, the signage, art and seasonal decorations which draw customers to stop and shop for pumpkins and often other goods like squash and mums.

Knucklehead pumpkins get their own display area at the Stanton stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

It all feels so good and earthy and connective, this buying direct from the grower who seeds, tends, harvests, markets. Locally-grown at its most basic.

A field of sunflowers, ideal for photo ops, grows next to pumpkins and corn at the Little Prairie roadside market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I love, too, how rural pumpkin stands pop up next to cornfields and occasionally sunflower fields. Sunflowers make me smile with their bright yellow blossoms. Sort of like thousands of smiley faces beaming happiness upon the land.

Getting in the spirit of Halloween on the Little Prairie pumpkin wagon along Highway 3. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

All these pumpkins placed for purchase prompt memories of Halloweens past. Of pulp and seeds scooped from pumpkins. Of pumpkins carved into jack-o-lanterns with toothy grins. Of jack-o-lanterns set on front steps and candles extinguished by the wind. Of pumpkins buried in drifts of snow in the Halloween blizzard of 1991 which dropped up to three feet of snow on parts of northern Minnesota and somewhat less here in southern Minnesota, but still a 20-inch storm total.

Pumpkins heap a wagon parked next to sunflower and corn fields at the Little Prairie stand along Highway 3. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Pumpkins represent more than a prop or seasonal decoration. They represent nostalgia, stories, the past, the present, the timelessness of tradition. Those are the reasons I can’t pass a pumpkin stand without feeling grateful, without remembering the childhood Halloween when I clamped a molded plastic gypsy mask onto my face or the Halloween I fingered cow eyeballs (really cold grapes) at a party in the basement of a veterinarian’s home or all the years I crafted Halloween costumes for my three kids.

Unpicked pumpkins in the Little Prairie field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Then there’s the year I helped my father-in-law harvest pumpkins from his muddy patch in the cold and rain so he could take them to a roadside market in central Minnesota. Because of that experience, I understand the occasional challenges of getting pumpkins from vine to sale.

A cornfield backdrops the pumpkin wagon and signage at the Little Prairie pumpkin stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I appreciate the growers who are offering all of us the beauty of autumn, the fun and fright of Halloween, and the gratitude of Thanksgiving with each pumpkin grown, picked and placed for sale at a roadside stand.

TELL ME: What does a pumpkin represent to you? Do you buy from roadside stands or elsewhere? I’d like to hear.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A tractor, pumpkins & a conversation after sunset October 1, 2025

Parked at Thomas Gardens in Faribault, a late 1970s or early 1980s International tractor centers an autumn photo op scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

ON THE EVENING of the autumn equinox, I headed to Faribault’s east side, crossing the viaduct over the Straight River to Thomas Gardens along St. Paul Road. The business was closed upon my arrival, which mattered not to me. I was here to photograph an International 274 tractor and pumpkins during “the golden hour.” That’s an hour before sunset or an hour after sunrise when the warm, soft glow of the setting or rising sun proves particularly lovely for taking photos.

The setting sun shines through an opening in the treeline as I shot this image. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

As I framed the tractor, staged as a photo prop in an autumn scene of straw bales, varied colorful pumpkins and corn shocks, I noticed the golden orb of the sun peeking through the treeline across the street. I remained ever cognizant of the light, diminishing with each snap of the shutter button.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I felt giddy as I photographed first that tractor and then masses of pumpkins outside the building. Colors popped in the perfect light. Multi-hued pumpkins. Deep orange ones. White ones. Yellow ones. Pumpkins with warty bumps, others smooth. Sooooo many pumpkins scattered across the street-side yard.

Thomas Gardens is housed in this building along St. Paul Road on Faribault’s east side. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I remember when the previous owners of 50-plus years piled pumpkins onto flatbed trailers parked inside and outside Twiehoff Gardens & Nursery. Matt and Stefanie Thomas bought the business in 2019. Matt grew up on a dairy farm near Dundas, which pleases me given I was also raised on a dairy farm. Like me, he understands hard work. On his business website, Thomas writes about teaching his three kids the value of hard work, teamwork and family values. This seems a good place to do that.

Mums for sale outside the greenhouses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Here the Thomas family grows and sells garden-fresh vegetables, flowers and plants, plus markets honey, maple syrup, Christmas trees and more from their pole shed style building, greenhouses and the yard where I roamed with my 35mm Canon EOS 60D camera.

Mostly potted mums, but a few other flowers and plants, are for sale in autumn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

When I finished photographing the tractor and all those pumpkins, I moved onto the flowers, mostly mums. The flower of fall. Single colors and multi colors in pots. Oranges, yellows, rose, even white.

A pumpkin tops the tractor against a corn shock with a tint of pink in the sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I aimed my camera lens down for a closeup photo of a massive striped pumpkin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Pumpkins set next to a tractor tire pop color in the grass. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I remained caught up in my photography until I glanced back at the tractor and the treeline. In that moment I realized I really wanted to watch the sun set at City View Park, just down the road a bit. It’s a beautiful site overlooking Faribault next to a city water tower and across the street from Trump’s Apple Orchard. We occasionally picnick here and watch the Fourth of July fireworks at this hilltop location.

Just after sunset at City View Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

But Randy and I arrived too late. I could see, as we pulled into the small parking lot, that the orange ball of the sun had already dropped leaving a skyline tinged with pink. Disappointment coursed through me.

Yet, others didn’t miss the sunset. Three teenage boys sat on a park bench facing the city overlook. As I walked toward them, I wondered why they were here, what they might be doing. Yes, I admit I thought they might be up to no good. I was wrong. They were here watching and photographing the sunset with their smartphones. I asked to see their pictures and they pulled out their phones and showed me the beauty I missed by my delayed arrival.

I took the opportunity then to praise them—to tell them how wonderful it was to see them outdoors, appreciating the sunset. Moments like this, generational interactions like this, conversations like this, matter. These youth understood the value of pausing to sit and watch the sun set across their city on the first evening of autumn. And I recognized the value of acknowledging that.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The stories of two Marthas September 19, 2025

A promo for Martha Brown’s presentation about Cambodia sits on the checkout counter at Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault.

HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”

I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.

THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE

I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.

I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.

A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN

The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.

In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.

LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA

Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.

When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.

Book cover sourced online.

A MUST-READ BOOK

Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.

In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.

Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When an out-of-control vehicle crashes into your yard, nearly missing your house September 17, 2025

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A view of Willow Street and our yard shows the corner of our house, the fence we finished staining at 4 p.m. Tuesday, skid marks on the sidewalk and a track across the lawn from the vehicle that slammed into our fence. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 17, 2025)

FIVE HOURS AFTER we finished staining the fence enclosing our backyard, an out-of-control vehicle slammed into it, missing our house by about 15 feet.

The Suburban that crashed into our fence Tuesday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)

We were just wrapping up bible study at a friend’s house across town when my neighbor, Ken, called around 8:45 p.m. Tuesday. It is the first time Ken has ever called me, so I figured something must be up. It was. Or, rather, down. There was, he said, a vehicle crashed in our yard with fence panels down and the cops on site. You might want to come home, he suggested.

Randy and I arrived home to a street flooded with emergency vehicles and personnel and neighbors outdoors watching everything unfold. By then, Willow Street, an arterial roadway through Faribault, had been blocked. Likewise, Tower Place, the side street along our corner property was closed to traffic.

The snapped power pole, pushed from its place near the corner of the boulevard, landing near our front door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)

As Randy pulled the van into the driveway, I saw the power pole on the corner was askew, broken. We, and others in the neighborhood, were without power. A power line stretched low across Willow, high enough for most vehicles, but not semis.

A tow truck arrives to remove the Suburban lodged in our yard between fence panels. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)

Then we walked around our garage to see a black Suburban partially sticking into our yard, one fence panel angled, another demolished, a third scratched. I’ll admit, I was furious. So angry I didn’t even ask about the condition of the driver initially. All I could think of was the fence, the one we’d just finished staining hours earlier in the heat of an unusually hot and humid September day. The 10-panel lattice-topped fence that has stood for some 25 years unscathed.

This is the second vehicle involved, the pickup, being towed away. That’s our house and the leaning power pole in the background. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

I asked what happened. Good question, the officer replied. By then I realized a second vehicle, a pick-up truck, was also involved. That sat turned across Willow Street near its intersection with Tower. Finally, I inquired about the drivers. They fled the scene, the policeman said. I asked the officer to check our garage to assure no one was hiding inside. It was empty.

It was a long night. Of talking to police. Of calling our eldest daughter, who lives in Minnesota. Of texting our insurance agent. Of texting our bible study friends. Of talking to the tow truck driver. Of talking to the Xcel Energy crew dispatched to install a new power pole. They labored until 4 a.m. to place the new pole and wires and restore power.

We slept only a few hours given adrenalin and then the noise of the Xcel trucks.

Skid marks on Willow Street show the path the vehicles took down the street, over the curb and onto the boulevard where the Suburban hit the power pole. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)

I’m still mad about all of this. I want to know what happened. What occurred between the two vehicles to cause the Suburban to take out a power pole, nearly hitting our bedroom and wiping out part of our fence. A high rate of speed was apparently involved given skid marks and damage to vehicles. Why did the drivers flee the scene?

The fence panel to the right was shoved in and damaged. The next panel was demolished. And the third panel also has some damage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 17 2025)

And who’s going to pay for new fence panels? Install them? And stain them?

In the light of Wednesday morning, my anger has lessened some as I reflect on a “this could have been worse scenario.” The drivers could have been killed. The Suburban could have hit our house, specifically our bedroom, when we were sleeping. Had this happened during the day, when we were staining the fence, well, I don’t really want to think about that.

The back of the Suburban. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)

One witness has the answers. He sat calmly in the front passenger seat of the Suburban. So quiet I didn’t even realize he was there until an officer alerted me. The witness, a Saint Bernard, was coaxed out of the Suburban and loaded into the back of a squad car. If only dogs could speak.

#

NOTE: Nighttime images were taken with cellphones, thus the low quality.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Finding memories & sharing stories at the RCHS Flea Market September 16, 2025

Vendors set up shop on the grounds of the Rice County Historical Society last Saturday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I’VE SHOPPED ENOUGH FLEA MARKETS, garage sales and thrift shops through the decades to understand that all three hold nostalgia and memories along with some bargain prices.

Vintage goods offered by Rex Kern. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Take the recent Rice County Historical Society Fall Flea Market in Faribault. Browsing through tables of merchandise and talking to vendors elicited many memories with second-hand goods prompting stories.

Vendor Rex Kern, left, visits during the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I detasseled Dekalb seedcorn and my dad grew Dekalb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

For example, when I spotted a Dekalb seedcorn sign, I initiated a conversation with merchant Rex Kern about detasseling corn for Dekalb. Worst job, ever, I declared. Kern listened and then agreed that pulling tassels from corn stalks in the heat and humidity of July, dew running down my arms, corn leaves slicing my skin for $1.25 hour sounded awful. But then he shared his story about catching and stuffing turkeys into cages. That, I said, sounded far worse than pulling tassels. Kern didn’t last long at that job. In my mind, I was seeing, too, the many loaded turkey trucks that pass through Faribault en route to the turkey plant only blocks from the flea market.

This beautiful bride brought back memories of my own bridal doll. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

At Kern’s booth I also found assorted dolls standing in cardboard boxes, their heads peeking above the edges as if watching shoppers. I found the scene a bit creepy although the dolls were not creepy. Among those dolls was a bride, which sent me back to a childhood Christmas. I received a bridal doll enclosed in a red suitcase. She was beautiful. Until she wasn’t. My older brother took her and smashed in her boobs. Why? Because, sometimes brothers can be mean.

Among the albums at the flea market, heart throb Donny Osmond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

If Donny Osmond, who performed with his older brothers in the Osmonds band and then solo, was ever mean to his only sister, Marie, I don’t know. But I do know that I considered him a heart throb. A flea market album, “Donny Osmond—Alone Together,” was enough to temporarily take me back in time to my teen years of swooning over the likes of Osmond, David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman and many other teen idols.

This unrelated collection of merchandise drew my eye, prompted memories. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

But I wasn’t exactly embracing the clown I saw sandwiched between Winnie the Pooh and a bunny. I remember, as a kid, fearing clowns in parades. Not any more. Still, I wouldn’t intentionally buy a clown to display in my home.

A Fun Lil’ Band plays at the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

It’s interesting how memories that have long been tucked away can suddenly resurface when triggered by a sight, a smell, a sound, a conversation. In a brief conversation with members of A Fun Lil’ Band, playing at the flea market, I shared that I never had the opportunity to play an instrument and can’t even read a musical note. The closest I came to playing music was on a toy accordion I received for Christmas one year. And, no, none of my three brothers wrecked that.

This vintage 1930s bike priced at $200 looked similar to one my mom rode. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

My maternal grandfather salvaged wrecked bikes from the junkyard, repairing and repainting them for me and my siblings. So when I saw several vintage bikes for sale at the flea market, I thought of Grandpa. I only wish I had realized then what a gift of love this was to us, his grandchildren. Without Grandpa fixing up those bikes, I wouldn’t have had “Sky Blue,” (yes, I named my bike) the recycled bike he painted sky blue and gave to me. My very own bike, no sharing with siblings required.

Young entrepreneur Avery set up shop at the flea market. She also sells on etsy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I expect other flea market shoppers found memories among the tables and tables and tables of merchandise. I also found a 13-year-old selling her homemade bracelets and earrings via her business, DazzleberryBeads. Avery started the company because she wants to buy a dog. She’s almost there. I failed to ask her what kind of dog.

A shopper brought her dog, which I asked to photograph. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

But I did see, and photograph, a dog at the flea market.

Commemorative buttons from Faribault for sale at the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I appreciate the stories shared at flea markets, the memories recalled, the art discovered, the history displayed. A flea market is about so much more than getting rid of “junk,” which really isn’t junk at all. It’s about all of us, collectively, sharing our lives.

This, the vendor said, is a sheriff. The piece reminded me of all the Westerns I watched as a child. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

TELL ME: Do any of the items in the photos featured here prompt memories for you? Please share your stories.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating community at the farmers’ & makers’ markets in Faribault September 15, 2025

Shopping at the Faribault Farmers’ Market on a Saturday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

FUN, FOOD, COMMUNITY AND CREATIVITY drew all ages to Central Park on September 13 for two special events—the Faribault Farmers’ Market Family Day and the Faribault Makers’ Market Customer Appreciation Day.

Some of Al’s vegetables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Randy and I joined those shopping for local food and goods. We brought home a ginormous watermelon from our friend Al plus two pounds of ground beef from Big Woods Beef, sweetcorn from River View Veggie Farm, and four juicy and savory pears from a vendor who lives near Union Lake.

Shopping at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
A close-up of a colorful crocheted throw at Barb’s Kitchen Crafts and Homemade Goods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Halloween themed pens for sale at the makers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I also snapped photos and engaged in some wonderful conversations. For me, these markets are all about celebrating community—the people who live here, farm and garden here, bake here, create here.

An ice cream truck repurposed for selling locally-raised beef. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I learned, for example, when chatting with the couple at Big Woods Beef that their refrigerated truck is a repurposed Schwans delivery truck. That led to my reminiscing about the Schwans “Ice Cream Man.” We talked about farm prices too, about the low prices of corn and soybeans and the high price for beef. And I understood, as I did decades ago when my farmer dad struggled to support his family, how challenging the economics of farming remain.

Eggs fresh from the farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

At the farmers’ market, there’s a direct link to the land—in fresh eggs gathered, in bumpy pumpkins pulled from the vine, in garden fresh tomatoes ripened by the sun, in clutches of colorful zinnias and gladiolus cut from fields…

Selling gladiolus at Three Glad Girls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Three Glad Girls (and their mom) have vended gladiolus at the Faribault market for years, since the sisters, after whom the business is named, were young. They battled mosquitoes to bring their $10 bouquets of glads to Saturday’s market. The mosquitoes proved relentless even as they sold their flowers.

Jax enjoys a cookie while his mom sells at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Saturday’s special family day focused primarily on activities for kids. I met several of them. Jax, 1, clutching a cookie and wearing a simple black tee with the words “CAUTION instructions not included.” Now that made me laugh. His mom, Jaylyn, was selling tallow balms, lotions, sugar scrubs and more with her business, Tallow Parlor.

Margot shows off the butterfly she made. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Over at an informational display about Scouting, Margot, 4, not old enough yet for Girl Scouts, posed with a coffee filter butterfly she crafted at a master gardeners’/University of Minnesota extension service table. The adults got a swag bag.

Kids enjoy the bouncy castle set up next to the Central Park Band Shell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Near the Central Park band shell, kids bounced inside an inflatable castle and played yard games while shoppers passed nearby. There was market BINGO for all ages.

Friendly and creative Amelia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Pickles crafted and canned by Amelia’s dad. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Amelia arranges some of the items she creates for the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I continued to work my way along the sidewalk, pausing to chat with vendor Amelia, a bubbly and energetic young woman who crafted a carrot and corn to wear in her hair, her contribution to the fun. I always make a point of talking to her because she makes me happy. Amelia stitches and crafts. Her dad gardens and cans.

Homemade salsa from The Viking Baker. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I walked past piles of melons, pumpkins filling a wagon, jars of homemade salsa and a whole lot more local goodness.

I love this message on the artsy sign crafted by Ronda. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Over on the south side of the park, where the makers set up shop, I talked to my friend Ronda, whose joyful personality matches that of bubbly Amelia. Ronda’s love of crafting is evident. She’s been doing this for years, crafting and selling at markets.

Harvey shows off his stenciled art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I popped into several other booths, passed by the Mighty Fine Coffee vendor, stopped to photograph Harvey, almost seven, sporting a freshly-painted spider web and spider on his arm. His smile reached to his eyes.

Selling and shopping at the makers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

This is why I attend community markets and events. This place, these people, bring me joy.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Commemorating 9/11 in Faribault, a photo essay September 11, 2025

A firefighter rings a bell outside the Faribault Fire Hall during the 9/11 ceremony. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

WE GATHERED THURSDAY MORNING at the Faribault Fire Hall as the sun beamed bright upon the crowd, as those in uniform stood in reverent respect, as engines idled, as the bell rang, as the American flag was raised and lowered, as heads bowed in prayer.

People gather inside and outside the fire hall before the commemoration began at 7:46 a.m. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
A Faribault police officer clutches an American flag. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Cleaning a Rice County Sheriff’s Department vehicle before the ceremony. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

A short ceremony here marked the 24th anniversary of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on America, an act of violence that initially claimed 2,977 lives. And many others in the years thereafter.

Flag bearing police officers participating in the memorial event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Saluting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Members of the sheriff’s department and others salute. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

At 7:46 a.m., when the first plane, Flight 11, hit the first World Trade Center, the ceremony in Faribault began. I mostly wandered, watched, framed photos, struggled to hear speakers. But mostly, I heard the silence, felt the heaviness upon hearts, remembered.

The youngest in attendance stands inside the fire hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

On that morning in 2001, I was caring for my 7-year-old son, who wasn’t feeling well, and his friend. I knew nothing of the attack until my husband called from work to inform me. As I scanned the crowd 24 years later, I wondered where all of them were when the unthinkable happened. Some were not yet born. Others, like Faribault’s communications director, was sitting in his seventh grade science class when he got the news. Many of us were just going about our normal day.

The line-up of firefighters, police officers and others was impressive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

When I reflect on that day, I recall how profoundly different the world felt afterwards. The absence of airplanes in the sky following the attacks in New York City and at the Pentagon and then the crash of the fourth plane over a field in Pennsylvania was noticeable. I remember worrying, wondering if the Mall of America in Minnesota would be attacked in a symbolic act of terrorism. Everything felt different. Surreal. Scary.

Many firefighters were in attendance, as I would expect given how many of their brothers and sisters on the East Coast perished on 9/11. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I remember my son and his friend building two towers from blocks and then crashing toy airplanes into them, sending the blocks toppling into a pile. Child’s play as I watched endless media coverage, unable to turn off the TV.

A Faribault fire fighter with two Faribault police officers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Time passes. Days, months, years, decades. And here I was, 24 years later, standing outside my local fire hall. Standing with firefighters, law enforcement, EMTs, an insurance agent, the former mayor, city employees, local media, a child, a veteran, an older woman and her dog…ordinary people remembering those lost on that tragic day in American history, 9/11.

Patriotism threaded through the event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

TELL ME: What are your memories from September 11, 2001? How did you feel and how do you feel now?

This Faribault fire truck was parked along the street by the fire hall. Other emergency vehicles were also parked either along the street or on the fire hall driveway. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Looking ahead to a local market, festivals & celebrations this weekend September 10, 2025

Shoppers and vendors at a previous Rice County Historical Society Flea Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2024)

THE UPCOMING WEEKEND brings a quartet of local events that not only entertain, but also honor, support and celebrate. Count me in.

First up is the Rice County Historical Society Fall Flea Market from 8 a.m.-2 p.m. Saturday, September 13, at the RCHS museum grounds along Second Avenue in Faribault. Here vendors set up shop and sell an assortments of goods with the variety of an old time mercantile.

I love browsing, and sometimes buying, at this outdoor market. But I also enjoy connecting with the sellers and other shoppers. Often I’ll see people I haven’t seen in a while, which leads to conversations. And to me, that’s what these events, at their core, are really about—connecting and reconnecting to build a strong sense of community.

Trees flooded with purple lights at a past Light of Hope Celebration and a special tent for survivors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2023)

LIGHT OF HOPE

Saturday afternoon, beginning at 4 p.m. until 10 p.m., folks will gather in Faribault’s Central Park for the Light of Hope Celebration, which focuses on cancer. Or, more accurately, focuses on those who have died from, survived or are fighting cancer. I expect every single one of you have been touched by cancer. Many of my friends and family members have endured cancer, including my dad who died of cancer in 2003. And my dear friend Barb, who died in 2024. I also know plenty of survivors.

Light of Hope aims to raise monies for local cancer patients and their families through the sale of luminaries, bench markers and donations. Recipients receive gas cards and/or monies to assist with mortgage payments, groceries, utility bills and other everyday expenses. The Light of Hope organization emphasizes “local” in their mission. I appreciate that people within my community can get financial help in the midst of a cancer diagnosis.

Among the hundreds of luminaries at a past Light of Hope luminary walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

Saturday’s celebration includes a luminary walk, personal stories, family fun, music, food trucks, raffle baskets and more. While the mood is celebratory, it can also be difficult as memories of loved ones unleash strong emotions. I know. I’ve walked the luminary path and cried as I read names of those dear to me.

SPIRIT FEST

Also on Saturday, from 5-9 p.m., Divine Mercy Catholic Church in Faribault hosts its annual Spirit Fest, a jam-packed weekend event featuring, food, music, auctions, raffles, makers’ market, bake sale, kids’ crafts, games, inflatables, outdoor movie, mini golf, cornhole tournament and much more. The fest is open to the public. Sunday, September 14, brings a second day of fun starting at 9 a.m. and running until 5 p.m. (Click here for a full schedule of events.)

Valley Grove churches and cemetery, rural Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)

VALLEY GROVE COUNTRY SOCIAL

In rural Nerstrand, the focus turns to history, specifically two historic Norwegian immigrant churches set high atop a hill in rural Nerstrand. The Valley Grove Preservation Society celebrates its annual Country Social from 1- 4 p.m. Sunday, September 14, with Nordic music, a history stroll, wagon rides, children’s activities, blacksmithing and rope-making demonstrations, a book discussion and more, including coffee and treats.

Hutenanny performs under the oaks from 1-2:30 p.m. Jeff Sauve, writer and former archivist at St. Olaf College in Northfield, leads “Unbound Love at Valley Grove” history strolls from 1:30- 2 p.m. and from 3-3:30 p.m. A discussion of the book Muus vs. Muus—The Scandal That Shook Norwegian America by Bodil Stenseth happens in the wood church from 2-2:45 p.m with editor Kari Lie Dorer and translator Torild Homstad.

Attendees are also encouraged to view commissioned Norwegian tapestries inside the 1862 stone church and the renovated steeple on the 1894 clapboard church just across the lawn.

Inside the wooden church at Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

Valley Grove happens to be one of my favorite spots in rural Rice County because of its natural beauty, history and peacefulness. Fifty acres of rolling prairie grasses and woods surround the two churches, which are on the National Register of Historic Places. The church buildings are beautiful in their simplicity. It’s not hard to imagine long ago Norwegian immigrants gathering here to worship, mourn, marry and celebrate.

Truly, all four of these weekend events in my area are about community, connecting and celebrating. Thank you, organizers, for offering these activities that are fundraisers for your groups and fun for all of us.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From fossils to DINO, diggin’ dinosaurs in southern Minnesota September 9, 2025

I took this photo of a young boy with a dinosaur painted on his face and imitating a dinosaur at the Virtues Trail Family Night in Faribault six years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

“THE KIDS KNOW more about dinosaurs than me,” said my friend Larry Richie, retired Faribault area farmer, amateur archaeologist, historian, volunteer at Nerstrand Charter School and much more. He’s one of those guys who’s a wealth of knowledge accrued through years of living and caring about people, animals, the land and history. And he’s always willing to share his discoveries.

Larry Richie leads his donkey, Orville, around the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines grounds in 2024. He brought Orville to the fall show again this year along with a collection of fossils. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2024)

I ran into Larry recently at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Fall Show where he had set up tables with fossils uncovered during digs on property south of Faribault. I didn’t take notes, so I don’t recall everything my friend told me. But I left feeling pretty certain I’d just touched, picked up and photographed dinosaur bones.

Larry knows a heckuva lot more than I do about these plant and meat-eaters that roamed the earth long ago. But not as much as the kids, he laughed. I concur. My grandchildren certainly know more about dinosaurs, and Pokemon, than I do.

One of many fossils Larry brought to the Gas & Steam Engines Fall Show. Those would be toes on a dinosaur, according to Larry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

As I listened to Larry, I thought, here’s a man with passion and determination. Although he’s, as yet, been unable to find anyone who will verify the authenticity of his dinosaur bones, I walked away a believer.

The battery-operated dinosaur roars, moves its head and arms, and flashes its eyes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Dinosaurs are decidedly amazing creatures that fascinate all of us, no matter our age. I remember playing with plastic dinosaurs as a young child. If I was to dig around in an upstairs storage space, I’d likely find those vintage toys. And if I headed to the basement and opened a tote, I’d find several dinosaurs, including battery-operated ones, belonging to my now grown children. Those roaring dinos with flashing red eyes scared my grandkids as preschoolers.

A tribute to Sinclair Oil and its dinosaur in a residential yard in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

One dinosaur that never scares is DINO, the Apatosaurus of Sinclair Oil fame. I happened upon three multi-sized versions of DINO along a residential street near Morehouse Park in Owatonna recently. The trio was strategically placed on either side of Sinclair gas pumps, the scene like a work of art, a snapshot of marketing history.

The largest of the three DINOs in the Sinclair Oil Company display in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

DINO has been around since 1930 promoting Sinclair products. In Minnesota, 46 Sinclair gas stations remain, the nearest to me in Waseca 25 miles away.

Elvern and Arlene Kletscher with children, Audrey, Lanae, Brian and Monica, at Dinosaur Park in the summer of 1966. I’m the oldest sibling in this photo taken by my brother Doug.

There’s something about dinosaurs that is timeless, that appeals to generations. I hold fond memories of visiting Dinosaur Park in Rapid City, S.D. in 1966 on the only vacation our family ever took. It’s documented in a black-and-white photo pasted in my photo album. Those mammoth sculptures atop the hill made an impression.

Today I remain in awe of dinosaurs. Just like my friend Larry, my grandkids and countless other kids and adults. I expect we’d all feel a bit differently, though, if dinosaurs, especially meat-eaters, still roamed the earth.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling