WHENEVER I SHOP at a flea market, like the one last Saturday at the Rice County Historical Society, I challenge myself to find the quirky, odd and/or unusual. I’m never disappointed.
Hands down, the most interesting find at the RCHS market was a replica Pickelhaube, a spiked metal helmet worn by an Imperial German Army officer during the 1870s Franco-Prussian War, according to vendor Carson Heselton. He sold the reproduction helmet to a young man who seemed thrilled to get his hands on the unusual piece and learn a bit of history in the process.
Heselton holds a wealth of historical knowledge, which is no surprise given he has a degree in history and is currently in graduate school. Somehow we got on the topic of the Ku Klux Klan’s presence in Rice and Steele counties many decades ago. Heselton wrote a college research paper on the subject with his work now on file with the local historical society. I intend to read it at some point. But he shared a little with me, including that the Klan burned a cross in the yard of his grandmother’s Catholic family when she was just six years old. The KKK targeted Catholics along with African Americans. His grandma never forgot that traumatizing event, the story passed down through the generations.
Vendor Timmy Capranos of Kilkenny brought an over-sized cross to the RCHS Spring Flea Market. But his had only good intentions—to market his faith-themed fishing lures under the tag “The Holy Catch.” Each lure features a cross with the words GOD LOVES YOU.
Capranos earns my award for creativity with not only his $4.99 holy lures, but also his Design Your Own Card enterprise of blank card stock offered for 99 cents to, well, design your own card. He even provided a sample Father’s Day greeting card. I love his humor, his entrepreneurship and his overall joyful personality.
I saw more creativity in crafted wooden bowls, lemonade stand signs, wildflower seed pods, yard art, beer bottle wind chimes (also by Capranos) and pickled vegetables.
You never know what you’ll find at a flea market. A guy even showed up with an early 1950s Super A Farmall tractor.
The adage of “One person’s junk is another’s treasure” certainly fits. Since I don’t need more junk or treasures, I try really hard not to buy anything. Mostly I eye the goods, reminisce, talk with people and scout for the quirky, odd and/or unusual.
And sometimes I find history in the process—in a replica Pickelhaube, a thermometer promoting pioneer corn and Hy-Line chicks, and bottles that once held Faribault-brewed Fleck’s Beer.
I also find community at flea markets. There’s something about poking around in piles of stuff that feels grassroots connective. I often find myself striking up conversations with vendors and sometimes shoppers. I usually see people I know, which leads to a bit of catching up.
Another opportunity to shop for unusual finds and handcrafted goods happens Memorial Day weekend in nearby rural Dundas. Rice County Steam & Gas Engines hosts its annual spring event with a flea market and swap meet from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday, May 23, and Sunday, May 24. A consignment auction is also set for 9 a.m. Saturday and a tractor pull for 9 a.m. Sunday.
I hope to be there, poking around, looking for the quirky, odd and/or unusual as I connect with community and maybe learn some history in the process.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Westward bound deep into Minnesota farm country May 28, 2026
Tags: agriculture, barns, Brown County, commentary, farm fields, farm sites, farming, land, landscape, Mankato, memories, Morgan, New Ulm, Owatonna, photography, Redwood County, rural Minnesota, sky, southern Minnesota, travel, Vesta
THROUGH SEVEN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA counties we traveled—Rice, Steele, Waseca, Blue Earth, Nicollet, Brown and, then, home to Redwood. Westward bound.
Only occasionally now, mostly for the annual family reunion and on this day a beloved aunt’s funeral, do Randy and I follow this 125-mile route back to my native Redwood County.
Every trip, I see the immensity of sky and land as the landscape unfolds before me. The farther west we drive, the more rural the look, the feel, with the exception of Mankato and New Ulm.
We bypass the small towns along four-lane U.S. Highway 14 while passing endless farm sites and fields.
I have my eye on the view from the passenger side of our van, scanning the land, watching for photo ops. Photography can be a challenge while traveling at highway speeds. Still, I try, managing to capture images that document the ruralness of this place.
Barns, especially red ones, always grab my attention. They symbolize agriculture more than any other building. Yet, most no longer center a farming operation. Absent of animals, many barns have been repurposed or have fallen into heaps of rotting wood. I always appreciate a well-kept barn still standing strong against elements and the passage of time.
This trip I’m also cognizant of crops at the beginning of the growing season. Corn is popping up in rows across the land, green shoots reaching toward the sun, the sky. Green is good. When my next trip this direction comes in late July, that corn will stand towering and dense across acres of fields.
I may not be a farmer, but my connection to the land more than 50 decades removed from my childhood farm remains strong. I still look at the crops. I still hope to spot a herd of Holsteins. I still see a silo and mentally climb the interior ladder to throw down silage. I still eye a grove of trees with the playfulness of youth.
While nostalgia runs high on trips like this deep into Minnesota farm country, reality is that farming remains as challenging as ever with ever-rising expenses, low commodity prices and the uncertainties of weather. Will rain fall when needed? Will storms come with devastating wind and hail? Always, always, the risks exist from planting to growing to harvest.
But on this day, mile after mile after mile, I see the hope of a farmer. I see a way of life. I see dreams.
And I feel small in this place where land and sky dwarf farm sites, where fields stretch across endless acres, where the highway ribbons ahead of us across seven rural southern Minnesota counties, westward bound.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling