Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

On the road under brooding March skies in southern Minnesota March 24, 2026

A farm site between Owatonna and Claremont. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

UNDER AN IMMENSE SKY in the wide open countryside of rural southern Minnesota, I always feel small.

Three US Air Force T-38 Talon Thunderbird jets landmark Owatonna Degner Regional Airport along Interstate 35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Sky and land dwarf me, impressing upon me the vastness and power of that which rises above and that which stretches around me.

On US Highway 14 just east of Owatonna, driving into early morning grayness. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

On a recent road trip to Rochester and back, the brooding sky of mid-March appeared unsettled, threatening. Cloud after cloud after cloud nearly swiped the earth while towering in a brute mass into seemingly infinity.

Heading east on highway 14, the All-Corn Clean Fuel ethanol plant by Claremont comes into view. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Only occasionally did the sun fight through the clouds that darkened the day. Gray prevailed, a visual cue of the major winter storm that would arrive the next evening.

Harnessing the wind on a farm site near Claremont. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

In the flatness of the land, a strong wind bullied across the landscape. Pushing. Shoving. Bending the will of boughs. Punching at vehicles. Fearless and unrelenting.

On the return trip to Faribault, the clouds partially broke, opening to blue skies over Claremont. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

This is March in Minnesota. One day angry and roiling. The next day calm, even warm, sunny and inviting. March marks the indecisiveness of sometimes spring, sometimes still winter.

Byron Agri Center stretches skyward. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

There’s a certain restlessness this time of year among those of us who live in this cold climate state of long winters. We are weary of cold and snow, ready for real spring, not just the calendar spring. We crave sunshine, warmth and greenery.

A view of the ethanol plant near Claremont on the return trip, when skies lightened. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

But realistically, Mother Nature has her own mind, deciding when a season reveals herself, not simply teases. I see that in the sky on this drive. The heavy morning sky, wrapped in a mass of clouds, refuses to bare herself to the sun.

A farm site about 20 minutes west of Rochester. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

And so I feel pressed upon, diminished by sky. And land.

Dwarfed by the sky, a housing development atop a hill between Rochester and Byron. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Buildings—barns and bins and houses—appear minuscule against this intimidating backdrop.

Wind turbines south of Dodge Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Even wind turbines, which tower above treelines, and which I find visually unappealing, appear small-scale despite their height.

Sky and land meet in the immensity of this place. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

I suppose we really are small in the immensity of the universe. A road trip between Faribault and Rochester verifies that. The immense sky and stark, wide open land stretch before me, high and wide. And I feel small, oh, so small in the all of it in the midst of March in Minnesota.

NOTE: I took these on-the-road photos on March 13 as a front seat passenger in our van. I set my 35 mm camera at a fast shutter speed and shot images.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Prairie poetry January 7, 2013

Along U.S. Highway 14

Along U.S. Highway 14 between Sleepy Eye and Springfield on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

THOSE WHO CATEGORIZE the southern Minnesota prairie as flat, boring and in the middle of nowhere truly have not seen.

South and west of Waseca, along U.S. Highway 14, a train cuts across the flat farm land.

South and west of Waseca, along U.S. Highway 14, a train cuts across the flat farm land.

Perhaps you are one of them—a traveler passing through this land defined by horizontal lines. Your patience for the endless miles of vast sky and open space expires shortly after you exit the city.

The horizontal lines of railroad tracks and farm buildings define this scene near Janesville along U.S. Highway 14.

The horizontal lines of railroad tracks, utility wires and farm buildings define this scene near Janesville along U.S. Highway 14.

You cannot fathom how anyone can live here, let alone appreciate this landscape.

East of Courtland, rows of bales edge a farm site.

East of Courtland, tidy rows of bales edge a farm site.

But I challenge you, the next time you are hurrying from City A to City B, to look beyond the pavement, beyond the preconceived ideas you have about rural Minnesota and specifically of the prairie.

West of Springfield, a snow fence emphasizes the horizontal lines of the prairie.

West of Springfield, a snow fence emphasizes the horizontal lines of the prairie.

View this landscape as an artist’s canvas. Before your eyes, you will begin to see the bold lines, the wispy strokes, the colors (or lack thereof), the composition of a scene.

The ethanol plant near Janesville on a cold December morning.

The ethanol plant near Janesville on a cold December morning.

You will feel the strength of the artist’s brush in the wind.

One of my favorite barns along U.S. Highway 14, west of Sleepy Eye.

One of my favorite barns along U.S. Highway 14, west of Sleepy Eye.

You will read poetry in the simplicity of the uncluttered landscape and in the fortitude and kindness of those who inhabit this place.

And then, perhaps, you will begin to connect to a land which possesses an infinite beauty unlike any other.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lovin’ Minnesota green May 18, 2012

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After a recent hail storm, maple leaves littered my patio. The contrast of green against gray, nature against man-made, struck me. I increased the hue saturation in the green to show the details in the leaf and to create a more artsy image. BTW, as a teen, my bedroom was painted lime green, like this leaf.

GIVE ME GREEN. Not money, although I would accept that. But color.

Vibrant, 1970s hippy lime green.

Dark green as deep as the shadowed forest.

The earthy green of unfurling corn leaves poking through soil.

Mixed shades of green massed in a hillside of trees set against the brooding skies of a moody May evening in rural Minnesota.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this scene northeast of Medford on a recent Monday evening. The lines of light and dark broken by that mass of trees appealed to me visually. And the lighting, oh, the lighting. Perfect. This was shot while my husband and I were traveling along a county road.

Grass green slicing across a field.

The soft sage of dried herbs.

Any green will do.

TELL ME, WHAT hue holds your heart?

Along the same county road near Medford, this near-barren field, sliced by that line of green grass, caught my eye as did the foreboding sky and the light, oh, the luscious light of early evening.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling