Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A chicken even I can love December 14, 2012

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SOMETIMES I TAKE photos and then have nowhere to weave them into the fabric of a blog post. So you never see them.

Take two images I shot last Saturday afternoon at the Faribo West Mall in a store selling a hodge podge of collectibles, clothing and other, well, stuff. I can’t tell you the name of the place because I don’t recall seeing a business sign. And when I purchased two items (not these), the shopkeeper simply stuffed my five $1 bills into his pants pocket.

All of that aside, I spotted so many objects that I wanted to photograph simply for the color, the art, the shape, the uniqueness, the nostalgia. But, I also did not feel comfortable clicking away unfettered while other shoppers browsed.

Thus, I focused my camera on only two pieces of colorful merchandise—a rainbow-hued glass elephant and a vibrant wind-up chicken.

When I show you those two unedited images, you might be impressed. But probably not. Here are the original untouched photos:

Except for resizing, I've done nothing with this photo of a glass elephant.

Except for resizing, I’ve done nothing with this photo of a glass elephant.

The original chicken photo, only resized.

The original chicken photo, only resized.

Then I opted to play with my photo editing tools, of which I understand little. I once edited and posted some winter photos here and then a reader asked “How did you do that?” Seems she wanted to duplicate what I had done. I could not tell her.

But this time, oh, this time, I am going to exercise my smartness by telling you I simply clicked on the “posterize” editing tool and these were the results:

I clicked on "posterize" and this was the result.

A bolder and more modern looking posterized chicken.

Isn’t this fun?

Ta-da, the posterized elephant.

Ta-da, the posterized elephant.

I took plain ordinary images and, with the click of my mouse, transformed them into works of art that really don’t resemble photos at all.

I’m especially smitten with that chicken. And for me to admit any fowl love…

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS on these two transformed photos or photo editing in general? Do you use photo editing tools to enhance your photos and/or create art?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A photo psalm of Thanksgiving November 22, 2012

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One of many rocks which grace the Kasota Prairie, rural Kasota, Minn.

1 Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock or our salvation.

The Freedom choir sings during an outdoor mission festival in the woods south of Janesville, Minn., in August.

2 Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song.

A snippet of a crown in a stained glass window at Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault, Minn.

3 For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods.

“The Prairie is My Garden,” a painting by South Dakota artist Harvey Dunn, showcases the prairie I so love. Here I’ve photographed most of a print which I purchased at a yard sale for a bargain $20.

4 In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.

5 The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.

American soldiers receive The Lord’s Supper in Korea, May 1953. Photo by my foot soldier father, Elvern Kletscher, who fought on the front line during the Korean War. My Dad wrote this home in a letter to his parents: “Sure was good to go to church. I had communion. I always try and make every church service they got over here. Once a week the chaplain comes up here on the hill.” Powerful words. Powerful photo of our soldiers kneeling on Korean soil to partake of The Lord’s Supper.

6 Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;

A pastoral spring scene near Roberds Lake, rural Rice County, Minn., near my Faribault home.

7 for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.

Psalm 95: 1-7, New International Version of the bible

Photos copyrighted 2012, Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Photographing a choral festival: It’s in the details November 20, 2012

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MY VOLUNTEER ASSIGNMENT was to photograph the mass choir comprised of 250 singers from 11 churches.

Choir members from 11 churches sing four songs in closing the choral festival.

That shot came near the end of a 1 ½ hour Festival of Choirs event Sunday afternoon at my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault. Choir members from churches in Eagan, Faribault, Inver Grove Heights, Janesville, Morristown, Northfield, North Morristown, South St. Paul, Stewartville and Waseca performed separately before joining in singing four songs of praise, thanksgiving and hallelujahs.

Congregation and mass choir, a side view.

Now, when I cover an event like this, I do not simply stand at the back of the church aiming my camera lens forward. Oh, no. I rove, searching for photo ops and angles that will tell a story. That is the photojournalist, and artist, in me emerging.

A piano’s player’s hands.

That same piano player and the choir she accompanied.

And, of course, the piano player’s feet working the pedals.

My pastor promised that if anyone got upset about me ranging here and there taking photos, they could speak to him. With that pastoral blessing, I set to work, moving from side-to-side of the sanctuary, tucking myself behind pillars, crouching beside pews, scooting along pews, crawling, squatting and, finally, for that mega choir group shot, climbing onto a chair.

Proof that even kids need someone to lean on while standing on a pew. This is not technically a perfect image. But look at that little girl’s face. Pure joy as she and, I assume, grandma, clap to the music.

At one point, I even slipped off my shoes and stepped onto a back pew, leaning on a stranger’s shoulder for balance. A spongy pew cushion does not make for a stable perch.

Because I shoot without flash, I knew I had to hold my camera perfectly still with each shot. I also knew that would not happen. But that is the beauty of shooting digital. Overshoot and you’re bound to have enough “good” photos.

I watched this boy, a member of the Trinity Lutheran Church, North Morristown, choir, for awhile before capturing this moment.

I was also acutely aware that simply photographing choirs performing at the front of the church would not make for particularly interesting shots. So I watched for the personal moments, the snippets that comprise the whole.

My favorite photo of the day came quite unexpectedly as I was walking through the narthex. These brothers, brothers to the boy in the above image, were hanging out in the narthex with their mom, one watching the concert, the other not.

That takes patience and observation—consciously choosing to notice individuals and details—and often a bit of luck.

I wanted to show all perspectives of the concert, including that of the pianists.

I happened to be on the floor, saw the men from Peace Lutheran walking toward the steps and took one quick shot.

And then I raced to the opposite side of the sanctuary to get this photo of the Peace, Faribault, choir singing.

The director of the Trinity Lutheran Church, Northfield, choir exhibited such enthusiasm that I simply had to catch her in motion.

Remember that little girl from earlier? There she is again, watching. She makes me smile.

I set my camera on a front pew and aimed up for this perspective.

The mass choir can quickly become that, simply a mass, unless you focus. I chose to see the individuals, specifically the little boy in the front row who had lost his place in the music.

While noticing the details is vital to a photo essay, so is the broader view.

The light of late afternoon made the western stained glass window glow in golden tones. Here’s a snippet, Christ’s face.

I placed my camera on the floor and shot this mass choir and congregation image, the angle drawing your eye to the cross.

The mass choir disbands and the concert ends.

TO THE ORGANIZERS OF and participants in the choral festival, thank you for blessing us with your musical talents. I cannot read a single note and thus so appreciate those of you who do and who share your gifts.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts on a weekend journey to Fargo and back under grey November skies November 7, 2012

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Westbound for Fargo on Interstate 94 near the West Union exit on Saturday morning.

NEARLY 10 HOURS in a vehicle traveling almost 600 miles round trip to Fargo, North Dakota, under the gloomiest of grey November skies can test one’s endurance.

The eyes began to wander, to lock onto the slightest patches of color in an otherwise dull and monotone landscape.

Billboards offer a diversion as do the semis which follow Interstate 94, some forking north toward Canada, others continuing even farther west into the endless grey expanse.

A section of the journey where there are still hills. My eyes focus on the brilliant red hue of the barn.

Near Barnesville, a short distance east of Fargo and Moorhead, piles of corn brighten the muted landscape.

Hunters in bright orange roam fields during the opening weekend of firearms deer hunting in Minnesota.

Red barns and piles of golden corn and deer hunters in blaze orange distract me from the barren greyness of this journey to the Red River valley. I wonder at that use of the word “valley,” for I see no indentations in the earth to suggest a valley.

This quaint country church in the distance somewhere east of Fargo/Moorhead always calms my spirits.

I am a prairie native. But even for me, the flat land west of Fergus Falls and into Fargo/Moorhead challenges my spirit. I feel insecure and diminished in this place and that unsettles me.

How can a place seem so flat that I feel as if I will step off the earth should I journey any further than the northwestern fringes of Fargo?

Downtown Fargo late Saturday afternoon under sullen skies with a light mist falling.

More gloomy skies on the return trip from Fargo to Faribault on Sunday afternoon.

Spots of orange (slow moving vehicle signs) provide a respite for my eyes on Sunday’s drive home.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Long-time North Mankato hardware store closing November 2, 2012

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A view of the North Mankato business district where Mutch Northside Hardware is located.

TWICE IN THE PAST MONTH, I have visited businesses which have since announced plans to close. First I wrote about the Historic Highland Store and Cafe (click here to read that story), slated to close shortly before Thanksgiving.

The owners of Mutch Hardware are retiring this month.

Now, even before I could post about it, I’ve learned that old-fashioned Mutch Northside Hardware in North Mankato will shut its doors this month. During neither visit was even the slightest hint made to me that these places would soon close.

I really do not know what to say. I do not bring bad luck. I can only conclude that my visits were meant to be, that through my photography I am helping preserve pieces of Minnesota business history. And in the instance of the hardware store, I am also preserving the memories and legacy of the Mutch family.

A view of the old-fashioned hardware store from the upstairs office.

WHEN I MET Dave and Sandy Mutch a month ago, it was a quiet Monday afternoon in their North Mankato hardware store just across the Minnesota River bridge from Mankato.

Dave Mutch behind the original store counter with the original cash register and the original scale (behind him).

Dave was putzing in the back of the store while Sandy worked up front. And as I started poking around, roaming between the narrow aisles, noticing things like bulk nails in bins, an outdated rotary dial telephone, the antique hand crank cash register, a wall calendar dating back to 1969, the creaking wood floor, notes from customers, baseball cards and a turtle shell, Dave eased away from his work.

The store specializes in window repair.

I met a man content with life, happy to help customers—to fix their windows, duplicate keys, mix paint. He seemed in no hurry, his conversation flowing at a slow and easy pace.

Bulk bins of yesteryear, still in use.

I wondered aloud to Dave how his mom-and-pop business could compete against big box retailers. “We’re willing to do what other people won’t do,” he said then. He also noted that his store stocks merchandise that others don’t, although he did not offer specifics.

In this basement workshop space, Dave has spent many an hour through the decades repairing windows.

That focus on friendly customer service was clear to me as Dave led me into the basement of his building constructed and opened in 1926 as a hardware store. He works on windows in the depths of that basement, which also holds excess store merchandise. Eighty-six years as a neighborhood hardware store, and in the Mutch family since 1969. Remarkable.

This dated turtle shells marks the year Harold and Bernice incorporated Mutch Northside Hardware.

Dave’s parents, Harold and Bernice, incorporated Mutch Northside Hardware in 1969, opening in January 1970. Dave worked part-time at his parents’ hardware store while studying business at Mankato State University. He purchased half of the business in 1972. By 1979, he and Sandy, who holds a degree in social work, were full-time owners.

Soon Dave will close and lock the front door for the last time.

Soon they will be retirees. They’ll hold a closing sale and auction and then put the building up for sale.

With this long-time hardware store closing, I have to wonder who will repair the torn screens, who will replace the broken window glass, who will meet the hardware needs of the Mankato area residents dependent on Mutch Hardware for supplies and advice? Who will replace the Mutches’ friendly service? Where will customers find the one-of-a-kind merchandise not stocked at big box retailers?

Who? Where?

There’s a lot to be said for places like Mutch Northside Hardware. A lot.

An aging sign posted in the store along with notes from mothers giving their children permission to purchase paint, etc.

Cans of paint rim the top shelf next to the original tin ceiling in the 1926 building.

Before the Mutch family bought the business, it was Austin North Side Hardware, as noted in this 1969 calendar still hanging in the store.

A customer steps up to the original check out counter, where the wood floor is especially worn.

One of several narrow aisles crammed on both sides with merchandise.

Baseballs cards and a painting of the North Mankato business district add to the cluttered and nostalgic charm of Mutch Hardware.

A seasonal front window display beckons gardeners. Hand-lettered signs in the window advertise window and screen repair and canning supplies. The Mutches did not advertise, relying instead on word-of-mouth to promote their business, Dave said.

The upstairs office with the low tin ceiling and the original rolltop desk.

The back door.

Mutch Hardware’s last calendar.

Soon Mutch Hardware will ring up its final sales on this cash register dating to the early 1900s and close the doors on 86 years of continuous hardware store history in North Mankato.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Hastings: The comfortable familiarity of an old-fashioned grocery store November 1, 2012

Reissner’s Meats & Grocery in historic downtown Hastings, Minnesota.

YOU KNOW HOW SOMETIMES, when you step into a place, you feel like you’ve been there before, but you haven’t.

That would be Reissner’s Meats and Grocery in historic downtown Hastings.

Third-generation owner Dick Reissner.

Entering this narrow two-aisle store with a mustachioed, gray-haired shopkeeper in a butcher’s apron leaning on the front counter, I experienced a sense of familiarity tracing back to my childhood. Reissner’s reminds me of the corner grocery in my hometown of Vesta where I purchased my favorite Tootsie Pop suckers, Bazooka bubble gum and yellow packs of Juicy Fruit gum from the candy counter on many a trip to town with Mom.

Honestly, I cannot remember much else about Rasmussen’s Grocery except the candy and the wood floors and the big old screen door that banged shut behind me.

Aisle one with the candy counter to the left.

Reissner’s in Hastings possesses that same nostalgic feel, even a vintage look in the red-and-white tile floors, the mishmash of merchandise, the hulking and energy-sucking open cooler that holds pop, and the price stickers adhered to canned foods and more.

Dick Reissner reads at the front counter while I explore his store.

Richard (Dick) Otto Reissner was preoccupied with reading when I walked in on a recent Saturday afternoon and didn’t seem to want to be bothered. So I didn’t query him with the list of questions formulating in my mind as I perused the aisles.

Vintage photos which clued me in as to the history of this place.

Therefore I have no stories to share with you about this third-generation family business. Only photos.

The exterior sign, which dates the business to 1902.

I totally forgot to search for the lefse or ask about  Grandma Ruth.

The vintage toys, etc., are not for sale.

An old, old cooler…

How often do you see price stickers on food anymore?

I have no clue, none, why there’s a saddle, right, in the grocery store.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Prairie prose & photos during the season of harvest October 29, 2012

Just west of Shieldsville, not far from our Faribault home in southeastern Minnesota, my husband and I began our 120-mile journey to southwestern Minnesota on a foggy Saturday morning.

I NEVER TIRE of the big sky and infinite land that stretch far before me as I travel back to my native southwestern Minnesota. I wonder sometimes how I ever could have left this place that brings such solace to my soul, such respite to my heart, such peace to my mind.

A farm site somewhere along the route which took us through or past Shieldsville, LeCenter, Cleveland, St. Peter, Nicollet, Courtland, New Ulm, Essig, Sleepy Eye, Cobden, Springfield and Sanborn corners, ending in rural Lamberton.

When I see this land, walk this land, the longing to be back here, permanently rooted again, tugs at my very core. I miss the prairie that much and the older I get, the more I appreciate this rural place from whence I came.

This image, among all those I took, emphasizes the expanse of sky and land which define the prairie.

It is that early-life connection, that growing up as a child of the prairie, that intimate familiarity with the land and the seasons and life cycles, the dirt under fingernails, the rocks lifted from fields, the cockleburs yanked from bean rows, the roar of the combine and the distinct putt-putt of the John Deere tractor, the calf shit clinging to buckle overshoes, the fireball of a sunset, the sights and sounds and smell and feel of this prairie place that shaped who I became as a person, a writer, a photographer.

These towering elevators and corn pile at Christensen Farms near Sleepy Eye break up the flat landscape.

In this season, as the earth shifts from growth to harvest to dormancy, I notice even more the details etched into the prairie. The sky seems bigger, the land wider and all of us, in comparison, but mere specks upon the earth.

MORE PHOTOS from that road trip to the prairie:

This is not a prairie scene because the prairie has no hills. Rather, I shot this near the beginning of our journey, west of Shieldsville.

Another scene from just west of Shieldsville. It is the muted colors of the landscape that I so appreciate in this photo.

Driving through Sleepy Eye, a strong agricultural community where I lived and worked briefly, decades ago, as a reporter and photographer for The Sleepy Eye Herald-Dispatch. Sleepy Eye is most definitely on the prairie.

Hills of corn at a grain complex east of Lamberton.

Fields are in all stages of harvest and tillage on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

A grain truck parked at an elevator in Lamberton.

An important sign when trucks and tractors are lined up at the elevator in Lamberton.

I ended my Saturday by walking my middle brother’s acreage north of Lamberton as the sun set, my favorite time of day on my native southwestern Minnesota prairie. I grew up about 25 miles northwest of here near Vesta.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Food and (some) photos October 14, 2012

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DURING THE PAST 24 HOURS, I have eaten perhaps more food than I would consume in two days.

But three delicious food events fell on the same weekend and I was not about to skip any in the trio.

What I did skip, however, was photographing two of the three, forcing myself to leave my camera at home for one and in the van for the third, just in case. Anyone who knows me understands just how challenging camera abandonment is for me. But I did it, people, I did it.

Four of the 13 chilis/soups served at Lanae and Dale’s annual soup party.

So, instead of seeing photos from Saturday’s Fall Festival in downtown Faribault, which included a buffet of chili along Central Avenue, you will see photos only from my sister Lanae and her husband Dale’s ninth annual soup party Saturday evening.

You also will not see photos from the fall dinner I attended today at Trinity Lutheran Church, North Morristown. I hadn’t even entered the sanctuary when I was asked, “Do you have your camera?” Yesterday I heard the same question several times while strolling Central.

People have come to expect that I will always have my camera around my neck. It was time for me to break free of the camera. Besides, I’ve photographed both the Chili Contest and the Trinity dinner in the past and felt uninspired and maybe a bit lazy. (If you want to see photos from the 2011 church dinner, click here. For past images of the Fall Festival, click here.)

My floral designer sister always has her yard and house seasonally and beautifully decorated.

But, prior to scooping up soup in my sister’s garage, I shot a few photos inside and out and then put away my camera.

I hope you will be inspired by these photos to host an autumn soup party. Guests brought 13 soups/chilis like split pea, potato, Gunflint chili, white chili, minestrone, tomato and more in crockpots. Paired with homemade breads and sweetened with sweet treats, the soups and chilis presented a perfect meal for a fun-filled fall evening with family and friends.

The soup party started and ended with a backyard campfire. Here a few guests and host Dale gathered before we ate.

I was distracted from the food by this gigantic toad in my sister’s backyard.

Then 7-month-old Mychel and her mom arrived and I invited them for a quick photo shoot on the front steps because, well, how could I resist that sweet baby face?

And then I noticed the sweet baby shoes and how could I resist photographing the feet of mom and daughter?

The sweet baby shoot continued as Mychel walked with her mom toward the garage.

In the garage Mychel’s grandpa, Scott, left, and other guests eventually started filing through the soup line.

My niece Cortney and guest Sheila scoop up soup. Casual and warm attire are necessary for this event which is staged in the garage, driveway and backyard. Layers are added as the evening progresses and cold settles in.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating 50 years of marriage at a Minnesota barn dance September 24, 2012

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THIS IS LOVE, after 50 years:

A recent family photo of Arnie and Jeanne, rural Northfield, with their children and their spouses and their grandchildren.

A golden anniversary photo display of Jeanne and Arnie on their wedding day, October 10, 1962, and a more current photo on the left. And that’s their farm, near the Hazelwood church, in the upper left corner. Farming, faith and family have centered the couple’s life together for 50 years.

THIS IS A CELEBRATION of love after 50 years:

Family and friends celebrate Jeanne and Arnie’s 50 years of marriage at a good old-fashioned barn dance.

The kids served popcorn in the haymow dance/reception site.

The Revival Band played “Woolly Bully” by Sam the Sham & the Pharoahs and a guest (matador) swished a red shirt (cape) while others guests (bulls) charged. (This was a barn dance, emphasis on barn.)

Family and friends, some in cowboy hats, visited and danced, or just sat and observed the celebration.

The  rustic rural atmosphere and decor were perfect for the farm couple married 50 years.

THIS IS LOVE 50 years ago:

Jeanne’s wedding dress and shoes (to left of dress on shelf) and a bridesmaid’s teal dress with crown.

A napkin saved from Jeanne and Arnie’s wedding day on October 10, 1962.

THIS IS LOVE, yesterday and today.

A display in the old barn celebrating 50 years of marriage for Arnie and Jeanne.

The cake topper from Jeanne and Arnie’s wedding with golden anniversary wishes 50 years later.

I ATTENDED MY FIRST EVER barn dance a year ago in this very same barn. Jeanne and Arnie’s daughter, Debbie, and her husband, John, friends of my husband and me, hosted the dance. To view photos from that first dance, click here. And then click here to see more photos.

This year we didn’t arrive at the dance until after dark, so my photo opportunities were much more limited since I don’t shoot with flash. But the time for dancing was not.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Photo pops of pink & orange September 21, 2012

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Zinnias

PINK AND ORANGE. Not until recent years would I have mixed those colors or considered them an appropriate combination.

Cosmos

Are you kidding? Pink and orange. Together.

Zinnia

But now I revel in the unleashing of creativity in color pairings, a loosening of the choking tie of conservatism and matchy-match this and that.

Zinnia

It’s freeing, isn’t it, to realize everything—from our homes to our gardens, from our paintings to our photos—doesn’t need to be Martha Stewart-like perfect.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling