The sun sets behind John and Debbie Becker’s rural Dundas, Minnesota, barn on the evening of their September 26 barn dance.
THRICE NOW I’VE DOCUMENTED dances in the Becker Farms barn. And what an honor it has been to photograph these 2011, 2012 and now 2015 celebrations in such a bucolic rural setting in southeastern Minnesota. I delight in photos, which combined with words, write family and personal histories.
After guests ate, several tables were removed for dancing.
I probably will never visit our nation’s capitol or see the Pacific Ocean or tour the Rockefeller Estate or attend a Broadway play or study a Van Gogh painting. But that’s OK. I have danced in a barn, something few Baby Boomers likely have done. I can write “Danced in a Barn” in my life’s story.
Peering out a hayloft door, I shot this scene of a pond and neighboring farm place.
Dining in the barn.
Playing with the rural version of Jenga blocks.
I appreciate the simple things in life. Sun setting. Great conversation and good music. Satisfying food that’s tasty and uncomplicated. Joy that comes from watching children at play, realizing too many years have passed since I was a kid free-ranging on the farm.
Visiting outside the barn.
To my friends John and Debbie Becker, I am grateful for the chances to dance in their 100-year-old barn, to witness the coming together of family and friends in a hayloft.
Guests gathered inside and out on a lovely September evening.
There’s something about a barn dance that roots to the rural past in a way that no museum can. As I danced, I could imagine the dances of yesteryear, hayloft empty of loose hay, eager young men and anxious young women eyeing each other from opposite sides of the loft. I could imagine food spread across planks, the scent of animals below mingling with the smell of fried chicken.
Parking vehicles was a major job considering the hundreds of invited guests.
And outside, horses tethered rather than vehicles parked.
Even this Dekalb sign inside the barn generated memories of Dekalb corn growing in my dad’s fields and me detasseling corn for this seed company.
Grandparents build memories with grandchildren at the barn dance.
I’m sure the four judges will always remember the difficulty of choosing winners in the homemade pie baking contest.
Red wagons hold timeless universal appeal to kids.
This girl’s cowgirl hat reminds me of the straw hats I wore while playing make-believe as a child.
As this boy pulled a wagon up the incline toward the hayloft, I wondered if he would climb aboard for a wild ride down. Instead, he released the wagon. I would have careened down, gripping the handle.
Whether my imagination matches historic reality, I am unsure. But I am certain of one thing. A barn dance connects folks to the past in a profound way.
I am always comfortably at home on a farm like the Beckers’ farm site.
For me, a woman from the land, dancing in a hayloft fits me better than gliding across the smoothest of floors in an elegant ballroom. I am comfortably at home in a barn, in a way that’s sweetly familiar. Connected to my rural Minnesota prairie roots.
FYI: Click here and here to read my previous posts on the September 26 barn dance in rural Rice County, Minnesota.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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