SEEMINGLY ENDLESS FIELDS of tasseling corn stretched before us. Row upon row upon row of corn flanking the roadways along with soybeans and the occasional sugar beets. All three crops define the southern Minnesota landscape in July. But corn is decidedly king.
As Randy and I traveled from Faribault to the Kletscher family reunion in Echo in Yellow Medicine County on the last Sunday of July, we observed the crops. Most looked good. But the farther west we went, we began to notice signs of stress in the corn.
A July 21 drought monitoring report from the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources confirmed our observations with conditions listed as abnormally dry in my home county of Redwood and neighboring counties. Randy and I, even decades removed from the farm, can still accurately assess crops.
To the west of Redwood Falls along Minnesota State Highway 19, we watched a bright yellow crop duster swoop low over the road in front of us, barely clearing the power lines to drop chemicals onto a cornfield. It was thrilling to watch the pilot’s daring descent while simultaneously wondering what the plane was unleashing upon the land.
Earlier, outside New Ulm, I saw a woman walking beans, meaning she was walking through a soybean field eradicating weeds by hand, a memory-familiar task. I walked a lot of beans during my youth. No chemicals used, only my hands and/or a hoe.
From inside the cool, air conditioned van, Randy and I pressed onward, sheltered from the sweltering heat and humidity of the July day. We passed massive barns swallowed by cornfields. So much corn. Shortly before noon we reached our destination, the Echo Community Center.
After several hours of food, conversation and sharing memories with extended family, we were on the road again heading the 130 miles back home to Faribault.
The temperature had only risen, grown more stifling, more oppressive. Temp rising. Corn rising. Farm sites rising like islands in an ocean of crops.
This is rural southern Minnesota, in the thick of the growing season. The promise of a bountiful harvest measured in growth, rainfall, and hail and windstorms avoided.
Just north of Sleepy Eye along State Highway 4, a semi truck hauled three Allis Chalmers tractors returning, said Randy, from the Orange Spectacular (Allis Chalmers Tractor Show) in Hutchinson. I picked up my camera, zoomed in and snapped two images, the second with the tractors appearing to drive atop a cornfield.
It was only an illusion, similar to the mirage of water slicing across the roadway on this hot summer day.
Had we stuck around into the evening and paused beside a cornfield, we likely would have heard the corn growing. There’s scientific truth underlying that statement.
The adage of “make hay while the sun shines” also rings true. I noticed several farmers baling hay on this hot and humid July afternoon. Farming doesn’t wait for cooler weather. Just like corn continues to grow, stretching across the rural southern Minnesota landscape seemingly into forever.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Barns, an enduring symbol of farming June 25, 2026
Tags: agricultural symbol, agriculture, barns, childhood memories, commentary, cosmos, farm sites, farming, Hutchinson, Mantorville, Minnesota, photography, road trip, rural life, rural Minnesota, southern Minnesota, travel
IF A SINGLE BUILDING symbolizes agriculture in Minnesota, it is a barn.
Barns hold the history of farming within their walls. They hold the stories of farm families who labored therein. They hold memories—the heat of cattle, the lingering scent of manure, the pulse of milking machines, the scurrying of barn cats and much more.
Barns also hold heartaches and challenges and the satisfaction and rewards that come with farming.
To step inside a barn, or even to observe one from a distance as I did on recent trips out and about in rural Minnesota, is to understand the importance agriculture plays in this state.
Sure, farming has changed. Many barns no longer house animals, once a farm staple, as ag has shifted to crop farming. But at its core, this profession, this way of life, still centers rural parts of Minnesota, keeps small towns going. I saw that, from Mantorville to Faribault and from Faribault to Morris and back home.
Barns dominate farm sites just like grain elevators landmark many small rural communities.
While I see too many dilapidated barns fallen into heaps of rotting wood, I also see those that are well-cared for, still standing strong against the ravages of time and weather. I know that comes at a cost to the landowner. Keeping a barn properly roofed and painted is a major expense. I appreciate efforts to preserve barns built by generations past.
My ancestry traces to farming, to German immigrants who arrived in America, eventually making their way to southwestern Minnesota. There they found rich dark soil in which to plant seeds. Land upon which to build farmhouses, barns and other buildings necessary to the operation of a farm.
I am rooted in farming. I worked inside the barn my father built. I shoveled manure, scooped silage, pushed a wheelbarrow heaping with ground feed, carried pails brimming with milk, bedded straw, tossed hay bales from the hayloft, fed calves… I worked the land, too, picking rock and pulling cockleburrs. I carried lunch to my dad and uncles on hot summer days of baling hay.
There is nothing romantic about farming. It is hard work. It is a risky business affected by weather, markets, prices, too many factors out of a farmer’s control.
Yet, I will unequivocally state that I am incredibly thankful I grew up on a working farm. The lessons learned there about working together, about forging forward despite setbacks, about standing independent and strong are ingrained in me.
My dad laughed when I told him I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up. He knew better. There was nothing to keep me on the farm. And so I left, went to college, became a journalist. But even though physically-removed from the farm, I’ve always carried my ruralness within me, reflected in my writing and photography.
I find myself still drawn to rural scenes. A farm site. A grain elevator. A gravel road. Cattle grazing. Farm machinery, especially tractors, traversing fields. These all define agriculture. But it is the barn which symbolizes farming and the enduring strength and hope of a farmer.
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NOTE: I took these photos from the front passenger seat, either through the windshield or side window while traveling at highway speeds. Locations of several photos are not noted as I don’t recall the exact locations.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling