Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

My caring community gives Christmas trees to those in need December 8, 2025

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Adopt-a-Tree Christmas trees curve along the sidewalk past the ice rink at Faribault’s Viaduct Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

THE GENEROSITY OF MY COMMUNITY is never more publicly visible than each December, when artificial Christmas trees are decorated, displayed and then donated to those in need.

Looking through the Christmas trees to the ice rink and the Viaduct Park community gathering space in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

This past weekend I toured the trees rimming the ice skating rink at Faribault’s new community gathering spot, Viaduct Park. That park centered recent Winterfest activities.

A local 4-H club is among those decorating and donating a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

As I slowly walked along the sidewalk looking at the festive trees, I thought of those who gave and those who will receive. Businesses, organizations, nonprofits, churches and more participate in the Adopt-a-Tree project with 77 trees gifted this year.

These women take their time looking at the 77 trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

The program was started by the Faribault Parks & Recreation Department in 2020 to bring a little holiday cheer to the community during the COVID-19 pandemic. Each December since, those numbers have steadily grown from 20 trees that first year to nearly 80 today. That’s a whole lot of families receiving Christmas trees. Families that might otherwise go without a tree because of the cost of buying one.

A skater skates on the other side of the trees edging the rink. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Now, more than ever, with the price of groceries and other necessities rising, the need seems especially great. We’re all feeling the pinch in our pocketbooks. But, if you’re living on an especially tight budget, the reality is that maybe you can’t afford a tree or gifts. And that’s where my community, like so many others across Minnesota and the country, steps up and gives from the heart.

So many fun Christmas tree toppers, including this snowman. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

When I think back to my own childhood, I realize my parents likely scrimped and saved to buy Christmas presents for me and my five siblings. We maybe got two gifts each. And we were ecstatic to receive those.

Skaters skate next to the trees and the Viaduct Park gathering space, which is open for warming up and to buy concessions from 3-5 pm weekdays and from 1-6 pm weekends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Our Christmas tree was so small that it sat on the end of our Formica kitchen table. To this day, I look for a Charlie Brown tree because of the fond childhood memories associated with a less-than-perfect tiny tree.

A festive holiday ribbon circles a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

I hope the children in my community whose families receive Adopt-a-Tree trees will feel the same Christmas joy. I hope they feel the love of those who care about them, who want them to have a Christmas tree in their homes. Likewise, if they receive gifts through many of the giving programs in Faribault, I hope they feel loved.

Operation: 23 to 0, which works toward suicide prevention, participated in Adopt-a-Tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Perhaps some day, they, too, will give back, reflecting on those hard times when others uplifted them during the holidays. My husband and his sibling were on the receiving end of such giving during their childhood. Today Randy and I are part of a bible study group at Trinity Lutheran Church that facilitates a Christmas Angel Program. We’ll gather soon to wrap all those donated gifts.

Generosity shines like the star topping one of the Christmas trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Kindness. Compassion. Care. All shine bright in Faribault from those donated Christmas trees to every single gift purchased for someone in need. Both reflect the spirit of the season. And that is a spirit of love and of generosity.

I viewed the trees during daylight, under overcast skies. I’d encourage night viewing also to see the lights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

FYI: If you want to see the Adopt-a-Tree trees, look soon. They are coming down early this week. Thank you to all who participated in this project.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Farmer Seed mural installed as historic-themed projects underway November 12, 2025

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A new mural on the side of Midwest Indoor Storage celebrates Farmer Seed & Nursery’s history in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

THE FIRST PART of a three-pronged project honoring Farmer Seed & Nursery in Faribault has been completed. Recently a 20 by 24-foot mural, designed by local historian and creative Jeff Jarvis of West Cedar Studio and painted by Minneapolis artist Melodee Strong, was installed at Midwest Indoor Storage, site of the former nursery.

The new Farmer Seed mural hangs on an indoor storage building where Farmer Seed once stood. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

The artwork hangs on a corner of the building’s west side, visible to eastbound passersby along Minnesota State Highway 60/Fourth Street.

A 1920s image of Farmer Seed from the Jeff Jarvis Collection. (Photo courtesy of Jeff Jarvis)
Vegetable art in a vintage seed catalog for sale at Keepers Antiques in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
The beautiful, artsy cover of a 1921 Farmer Seed catalog found at Keepers Antiques. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

The iconic Farmer Seed and Nursery multi-level complex once rose here, an identifiable community landmark business rooted in agriculture. With nearly a 130-year history in Faribault and company roots in Chicago dating to 1888, Farmer Seed was once noted for its local seed farms, seeds, mail order seed catalog, retail store and Christmas trees. I remember paging through the company’s catalogs while growing up on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm. From vegetables to flowers to shrubs and trees, Farmer Seed offered endless options for the everyday gardener, farmer and other growers.

Simple, bright, bold and memorable graphics define the mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Today the mural and a forthcoming kiosk and memory book will continue to celebrate this long-time Faribault business. In designing the mural, Jarvis kept it simple, focusing on the signature exterior signage that graced the historic building. He added a splash of color in a clutch of sunflowers, highly recognizable, he said, and a popular agricultural symbol.

The multi-paneled kiosk will stand on the corner of Fourth Street and Eighth Avenue. (Design rendering courtesy of Jeff Jarvis, WestCedarStudio.com)

Jarvis also created conceptual sketches for the planned corner kiosk and is developing an interior graphic panel display featuring company history, little-known products and personnel information.

The memory book cover designed by Jeff Jarvis of WestCedarStudio.com. (Courtesy of Jeff Jarvis)

Additionally, this keeper of local history is compiling a Farmer Seed memory book of stories, historical information and photos. Jarvis has included his own childhood story about a coveted Ant Farm purchased at the retail store by his mother and gifted to him at Christmas. He’s looking for more stories and encourages submission of those via a form on his website at https://westcedarstudio.com/farmer-seed-nursery-memory-book/. Once the stories are compiled they will be available to read for free on Jarvis’ studio website or as a printed copy for a fee.

On a recent rainy morning, I photographed the Farmer Seed & Nursery historic-themed bench along Faribault’s Central Avenue, among many history benches downtown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

I expect this trio of projects will be well-received in Faribault, where the 2018 closure, then sale and eventual complete demolition of the iconic Farmer Seed complex in 2023 raised public concern. I was among those who hoped the building, on the National Register of Historic Places, could be saved, a new use found for this long-time landmark. It was not to be. But the city, including the Heritage Preservation Commission, recognized the importance of preserving memories by requiring historical remembrance projects as part of the property sale, according to Jarvis. I’m grateful for that and for parts of the building that were salvaged for historical purposes.

Flocked Christmas trees for sale at Farmer Seed in 2014. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Today when I view the newly-installed mural, I think of my own Farmer Seed memories. Like so many others, those trace to Christmas. I loved to wander through the retail store to see all the trees decorated with ornaments. Sometimes my husband and I would buy our short needle short Christmas tree there. Not a flocked tree, which was a Farmer Seed specialty. One year we waited too long and, days before Christmas, got what I think may have been the last tree in town at a bargain price.

A page in a 1970 seed catalog at Keepers Antique Shop. In 1894 Farmer Seed moved to Faribault and started its seed growing operation here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

For many area residents, Farmer Seed holds a life-time of memories. Of seed catalogs. Of seed potatoes. Of seed packets. Of lilac bushes and Christmas trees. Of wood plank floors and a building rising high along highway 60, where an indoor storage unit and an under-construction apartment building now stand on land once rooted in agriculture.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Halloween in Minnesota, yesterday & today October 31, 2025

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One of several scary characters positioned in a residential yard near downtown Waterville. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, my friends!

For sale at The Barn craft sale in September in Cannon City. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

If I was a kid, I’d be super excited about putting on my costume, grabbing my candy collecting bucket or bag and heading out to trick-or-treat. But, since I’m an adult, there will be none of that, only a quiet evening at home. I didn’t even buy candy to hand out since the number of trick-or-treaters to our house sometimes numbers zero. Plus, the cost of candy is too high.

Thrift shops, like the Salvation Army in Red Wing, are good sources for Halloween costumes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

But my grandkids, ages nine months, six and nine, will join countless costumed kids canvasing neighborhoods for treats. Izzy is dressing as Pikachu, Isaac as Numberblock Six and baby Everett as a dragon. Not that a baby can eat candy, but, well, his parents are pretty excited about their son’s first Halloween. I remember our oldest daughter’s first Halloween costumed as an angel. And I remember my childhood Halloweens in rural Minnesota, especially the year I dressed as a gypsy.

In Waterville, warnings in a neighborhood Halloween display. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

I remember Mom dropping me and my siblings off in my hometown of Vesta, population around 360, to collect goodies. This wasn’t necessarily ring the doorbell or knock, then grab and go. Sometimes we stepped inside to show off our costumes and sign a guestbook before being given our candy. Or, in the case of Great Aunt Gertie, a homemade popcorn ball, which was quite capable of causing a chipped tooth. When we were done gathering treats, we went to Grandma’s house where Mom picked us up for the short ride back to the farm.

The entrance to Coy and Kathy Lane’s Haunted Mini-Golf interactive Halloween display at 234 First Avenue Southwest in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

One aspect absent from my childhood Halloweens were yards full of spooky decorations. Today they are everywhere. My neighbors up the street, Coy and Kathy Lane, create a themed display in their yard that is open from 10 a.m.- 9 p.m. the entire month of October. This year they built a haunted mini golf course. It’s impressive. Sound, lights and action make this a fully-immersive experience created by a couple who clearly love Halloween. They’ll be handing out full-sized candy bars on Halloween, the final date the display is open to the public…until next October.

A Halloween display on a front porch in small town Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

All around Faribault and neighboring communities, inflatables and other factory-made decorations have popped up in yards. Cats. Frankenstein. Skeletons. Witches. And on and on.

As much as I dislike creepy dolls, I posed with this one at Coy and Kathy Lane’s haunted mini golf course. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling, October 2025)

But the single freakiest Halloween decorations for me personally are the dolls. I can’t quite put my finger on why they creep me out other than that they do. My neighbors have an entire family of creepy dolls circling one hole in their mini golf course. I posed with one of them while Randy took a photo. We were there with our two oldest grandchildren during daylight hours, which likely explains why all of us were more entertained than scared.

I spotted this creepy doll in a storefront window in Montgomery, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Now had a mouse been running around or a bat flying about, I would have fled the Halloween scene, snap, just like that.

My favorite hole at the Lane Halloween display features clowns. And, yes, some move. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

TELL ME: What are you doing for Halloween? Also, I’d love to hear a Halloween memory or story. Please share.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Go local when viewing fall colors October 26, 2025

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City View Park on Faribault’s east side provides a sweeping, colorful view of the city in October. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

IF I WANT TO VIEW fall colors, I needn’t go far. I can step into my backyard to see glorious golden maples. Up the street from my Willow Street home, more trees blaze. If I follow Second Avenue to its intersection with Seventh Street, I’ll find especially vibrant trees on a corner property owned by friends Mark and Laurie. There are more splashy hues along Seventh Street and all about town. Tree-lined bluffs rising above the Straight River burst with color. Faribault is a beautiful, historic riverside city anytime, but especially in autumn.

A view of the Cannon River from the pedestrian bridge at the Cannon River Wilderness Area between Faribault and Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Yet, even with all the colorful trees in town, I like to go into the countryside to see the colors, too. And it’s not just about the orange, red and yellow leaves. It’s also about sky and water, fields and farms, the “all” which comprises and defines rural Minnesota in September and October.

This weathered barn with the fieldstone foundation sits along the gravel road leading to Richter Woods County Park west of Montgomery in Le Sueur County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

It’s also about following back gravel roads, the vehicle kicking up dust. It’s about meeting massive farm equipment on roadways. It’s about stopping to look at a weathered barn. It’s about traveling at a slower pace.

A view of Kelly Lake and a colorful shoreline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

And it’s about stopping, exiting the van to walk into the woods or stand along the shoreline of an area lake to admire a colorful tree line.

A sweeping view of the countryside in the Union Lake area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

As a native of the mostly treeless southwestern Minnesota prairie, it was not until I moved to Rice County in 1982 that I fully realized just how overwhelmingly stunning this season is in our state. I didn’t grow up going on vacations with the exception of two—one at age four to Duluth and the second to the Black Hills of South Dakota during my elementary school years. But each autumn, my siblings and I piled into the Chevy with our parents for a Sunday afternoon fall color drive along the Minnesota River Valley from north of Echo to Morton.

A partially-harvested cornfield in the Union Lake area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

And so my love of Sunday drives (which were frequent during my youth because Dad wanted to look at the crops) evolved. As did my understanding that all we needed to do was travel a short distance to see a different landscape. One with woods, colorful woods, in autumn.

Colorful trees by Union Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

The topography of Rice County is incredibly diverse. From the familiar flat prairie to rolling hills and valleys to lakes and rivers and streams, it’s all right here. Lovely.

Sometimes you just have to stop and look up, here in Richter Woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

I encourage Sunday afternoon drives, or whatever day works for you. Forget about schedules and the work at home. Get in the vehicle and go. Go local. Appreciate what’s right in your backyard.

Inside Richter Woods, rural Montgomery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Pull over along a gravel road, if it’s safe to do so, and take in the countryside. Stand along the shore of a lake. Walk into the woods. Hear the crunch of dried leaves beneath your soles. Look up at the colorful leaves. And see, really see, the autumn beauty that surrounds you…before winter strips the land, leaving it naked and exposed.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

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

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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

 

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

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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

 

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

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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

 

Vacation memories & southern Minnesota connections August 26, 2025

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An angler fishes in Horseshoe Lake, rural Merrifield, on an August evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

IN MID AUGUST, Randy and I headed nearly 200 miles north of Faribault for our second stay of the summer at a family member’s cabin in the Brainerd lakes area. This trip our eldest daughter and her family joined us for several days. There’s nothing quite like time with the grandkids at the lake. Time to play, to relax, to make memories. And that we did. I cherish our days together Up North.

We mostly hung out on the beach or in the cabin. Weather conditions were not ideal with cool temps and strong winds prevailing when all six of us were there together. Yet, we got outdoors—the kids running along the sandy beach, digging a hole along water’s edge, enjoying the placid water on a warm and sunny day before the weather changed.

Looking upward toward the pines from a lakeside hammock. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

MAKING MEMORIES

I led the 6 and 9-year-olds on a scavenger hunt. We searched for a feather, a mushroom, a nest…that which nature offers like a gift if only we pause to see and appreciate. Randy taught Isaac to play Marbles on a homemade wooden board. It’s a long-time favorite of the extended Helbling family. We played Yahtzee and Connect 4, on an over-sized outdoor board. The puzzlers among us (not me) pieced together a lemonade stand. We headed into town for massive scoops of ice cream, a cabin tradition. And one day we picked peas from our sister-in-law and brother-in-law’s plot in a community garden. Later I taught Isaac how to shell them. The kids delighted in a timed Ninja course at a Crosslake playground and posed for photos behind Paul Bunyan family cut-outs at another park. We devoured s’mores around the campfire.

A campfire is the place to share stories, create memories. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

This is the stuff of memories. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mostly unplanned. Moments that connect us, deepen bonds.

Moody clouds at sunset over Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

Being outdoors, away from home and work and schedules and the demands of everyday life, opens us to the joys of vacationing. The haunting call of a loon and the sighting of a bald eagle perched atop a pine proved exhilarating. A bank of moody, pink-tinged clouds slung low in the evening sky drew all of us to focus on and admire the scene.

A mural in Crosby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

MORE CHERISHED MOMENTS

When the grandkids and their parents left several days before us, our world seemed too quiet. No more kids scampering up and down the loft ladder. No more requests to go to the beach. No more…

But, sans kids, there were still moments to be cherished. Lakeside dining with friends at Breezy Point. Popping in to chat with a Faribault friend who lives in Nisswa now and works for the Chamber of Commerce. And then a chance encounter with adults with disabilities on an outing at Mission Park, rural Merrifield. I learned that visually-impaired Shannon, who uses a white cane and carries over-sized yellow sunglasses, likes to sing. I asked her to sing for me. And she did—to a movie soundtrack of ”My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Deon. I thought my heart would burst with joy as this young woman first mouthed the words, then sang them quietly and then louder as I encouraged her. It’s one of those moments I will forever treasure. Me nearly in tears and everyone inside that picnic shelter smiling during this impromptu weekday morning concert.

A mural by Adam Turman in downtown Crosby highlights recreational activities in the Cuyuna Lakes area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)

SOUTHERN MINNESOTA CONNECTIONS ON THE RANGE

On the way home, there were more delights during a stop in Crosby, an Iron Range community that is evolving into a destination with its many outdoor activities, shops and murals. I spotted a mural by Minneapolis artist Adam Turman, whose work can be found on murals in Northfield and on Faribault Mill products. He’s a favorite muralist of mine. I saw also, much to my delight, Faribault Mill blankets and Caves of Faribault cheeses in separate shops. I felt Faribault-proud seeing those wool blankets and exceptional cheeses for sale in Crosby.

ICE CREAM, GREEK STYLE

But it was the homemade ice cream—Rave Creamworks’ Super Premium—at Victual in Crosby that got rave reviews from me. Randy and I shared a large scoop of Baklava ice cream laced with flaky phyllo dough, chopped walnuts and honey. It is the shop’s bestseller among 24 choices, so said the teen behind the counter. I loved this creamy ice cream, which I expect my friend, Father Jim Zotalis at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault, would appreciate given his Greek heritage. Baklava is a Greek pastry. Even in that ice cream I felt a connection to southern Minnesota. We can leave home, but we never really do.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In praise of monarchs, milkweeds & fireflies July 16, 2025

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A monarch butterfly feeds on a milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ON A RECENT AFTERNOON, I looked up from washing dishes and out the kitchen window to see a solitary monarch butterfly flitting among milkweeds. Something as common as a butterfly remains, for me, one of summer’s simplest delights. Along with milkweeds and fireflies.

A monarch caterpillar on milkweed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

This year I have a bumper crop of milkweed plants growing in and along flowerbeds and retaining walls. I stopped counting at 24 plants. I have no idea why the surge in milkweeds. But I am happy about their abundance given monarchs need milkweed. It is the only plant upon which the monarch lays eggs and the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars.

A crop of milkweeds in a public garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

My farmer dad, if he was still alive, would likely offer a different opinion about milkweeds. As children, my siblings and I walked rows of soybean fields eradicating milkweeds, thistles and the notorious cocklebur. This was called “walking beans,” a job that we hated, but was necessary to keep fields mostly weed-free without the use of chemicals.

I never considered then that I might some day appreciate milkweeds, the “weed” I pulled from the rich dark soil of southwestern Minnesota. On many a hot and humid afternoon, sweat rolled off my forehead and dirt filtered through the holes of my canvas tennis shoes while hoeing and yanking unwanted plants from Dad’s soybean fields and on my cousin John’s farm.

Today I instruct my husband not to pull or mow any milkweed plants in our Faribault yard. Randy understands their value, even if he didn’t walk beans on his childhood farm. He more than made up for that lack of field work by picking way more rocks than I ever did. Morrison County in central Minnesota sprouts a bumper crop of rocks compared to my native Redwood County, where I also picked rocks.

A milkweed about to open. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But back to milkweeds. I love the scent of the dusty rose-colored common milkweed. So if you drive by my Faribault home or walk through River Bend Nature Center or Central Park or past Buckham Memorial Library and see me dipping my nose into a cluster of milkweed flowers, that’s why.

As summer progresses, I’m curious to see how many monarchs soar among the milkweeds in the tangled messes of plants that define my untamed flowerbeds. Thankfully our next door neighbor appreciates milkweeds also and is OK if the wind carries seeds onto his property.

Fireflies glow in the garden art honoring my nephew Justin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’ve already seen fireflies aplenty in our backyard, which abuts a wooded hillside. And recently, while driving home in the early dark of a summer evening, Randy and I saw hundreds of fireflies lighting up grassy road ditches. It was truly magical, reminding me of childhood sightings and of Eric Carle’s children’s picture book, The Very Lonely Firefly. I had a copy for my kids, battery included to light up firefly illustrations. And, until it stopped working, I had a solar-powered firefly garden sculpture honoring my nephew Justin, who loved light and fireflies and died at age 19 in 2001 of Hodgkins disease.

Often what we love is about much more than simply whatever we love. I see, in writing this story, that my love of milkweeds, monarchs and fireflies connects to memories. Summer memories. Farm memories. Family memories. These are the stories we carry within us, that help define who we are, whether we consider a milkweed to be a weed, or a flower.

TELL ME: What simple summer things delight you and why?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on freedom & more as we celebrate the Fourth in southern Minnesota July 2, 2025

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At a recent Faribault Car Cruise Night, I spotted several vehicles sporting American flags, including this Chevy pick-up truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

PARADES. GET TOGETHERS. FIREWORKS. All define the Fourth of July as we gather over the long holiday weekend to mark America’s 249th birthday. I hope, in the all of this, that we never lose focus of why we are celebrating. It is, in one word, “freedom.”

In light of that, I reread The Declaration of Independence, signed on July 4, 1776, declaring our independence from British rule. It’s worthy of annual review to remind us of the past and to warn us lest we stray back to that which oppressed and suppressed us.

This document is also about our rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In fact, those are the words we most often recall when thinking about The Declaration of Independence. As an American, I value my freedoms as an individual and as a writer and photographer.

When I walk or drive through my community, I see a diversity of peoples. Those who grew up here and have deep roots in Faribault. Those who, like me, moved here from other parts of Minnesota (or the United States). And those who flew across an ocean or crossed a border for new opportunities and/or to escape war, violence, oppression and more in their homeland. I’ve talked to immigrants who have fled violence to settle in America, in my community. Their stories are heartbreaking. They just want better, safer lives for themselves and their families. What we all want.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Decades ago while attending grade school during the Cold War, each day began with The Pledge of Allegiance. My classmates and I turned to the American flag hanging in the corner of our rural southwestern Minnesota classroom, placed our hands upon our hearts and recited, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” I always wanted to end with “Amen.” The pledge felt like a prayer to me as we spoke in a unified, reverent voice.

But now, in adulthood, I recognize that the wording of the Pledge no longer truly fits America.

Still, I feel pride in the American flag, which flies on street corners in downtown Faribault, in parks, outside government buildings, outside the Legion, in residential yards and elsewhere throughout the city. It is a visual representation of our country. Fifty stars for 50 states. Thirteen red and white stripes representing the original 13 colonies. Even the colors stand for something—red for valor and bravery, white for purity and innocence, and blue for vigilance, perseverance and justice.

My husband, Randy, enjoys a cheeseburger at a past North Morristown, Minnesota, Fourth of July celebration. This July 4 marks the 132nd year of that event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

On the Fourth and throughout July and summer, an abundance of flags will fly “o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” On Independence Day and in the days thereafter, we’ll don red-white-and-blue attire before stepping out the door for a backyard picnic of grilled burgers and watermelon or heading to an out-of-town celebration or gathering with friends and family.

Among all the food, conversations, music and activities on and around the Fourth, we need to pause and reflect on the word “freedom.” We need to study the long ago words of The Declaration of Independence. Words worth rereading each July in honor of our independence, our freedom.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling