LAST WEEK’S STREAK of gloriously warm, sunny days here in southern Minnesota beckoned Randy and me to hit the road on Friday to view the fall colors. We’d worked hard earlier in the week, me writing and painting and he laboring over automotive jobs.
As life-long Minnesotans, we understand that these golden autumn days are fleeting. And, indeed, the weather has now changed to cold, gloomy and rainy. So our decision to take a day off and away proved the right choice.
I love these day trips into the countryside and into the small towns in our region. It’s an opportunity to get out of Faribault, reconnect to our rural roots and delight in new discoveries.
Before this outing even began, though, the day opened with a sunrise so lovely that I simply stood at my living room window taking in the scene before me. Light in shades of red, gold and orange fired across the eastern sky, blazing between clouds, creating a painterly visual.
Soon we would be off, picnic lunch packed, driving east into a landscape hazy with wind-blown harvest dust and land in need of a good, soaking rain.
We saw our first masses of color in the dense woods of Nerstrand Big Woods State Park. We opted not to stop at this busy fall destination park, but rather continued on to the small town of Nerstrand.
A quick drive-through didn’t reveal much new in Nerstrand. But I did spot the most inviting front porch area graced with autumn décor of pumpkins, mums and a corn shock plus a vintage bike and lush ferns. I wanted to walk right up the front steps, knock on the door and ask to sit a spell in one of the comfy wicker chairs for conversation and perhaps a mug of steaming coffee. I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a front porch.
Onward we drove, winding our way toward Dennison, past farms and occasional splashes of colorful trees.
Once in town, I noticed a new establishment, Cattlemen’s Saloon, which seems a fitting name for this small farming community. The saloon, previously the 625 Bar & Grill, opened a year ago under the same ownership but with a new focus and branding.
I also happened upon some no trespassing signage that left me feeling uneasy. I got the message, as intended, that I ought to stay clear of this vacant property or else. I just don’t share the owner’s sense of humor regarding weapons.
Next we aimed toward Cannon Falls, twisting through the picturesque Sogn Valley area. Some fall color tinted hillsides of trees, but nothing spectacular. We realized that perhaps we were a week late to see the peak of autumn hues here.
Yet, a drive like this doesn’t depend on a singular attraction to make it enjoyable. Rather, I delight in the unexpected, the quirky, the details that help define a place. And first off in Cannon Falls, that was an old John Deere tractor hoisted high atop a metal frame on the south edge of town. I wondered how that tractor was lifted into place.
But it was in downtown Cannon Falls where I found the highlight of the day—Sweet Kneads. I love a good local bakery. Only on day trips do I treat myself to a bakery sweet, this time a blueberry Bismarck donut that was over-the-top yummy, oozing with blueberry filling that tasted fresh, not canned. It was one of the best bakery treats, if not the best, I’ve ever eaten.
With sweets fueling us, Randy and I were ready to hit the road again, but not before a quick look at seasonally-decorated storefronts at neighboring businesses. We could easily have spent several hours downtown, home to restaurants, boutiques, a cheese shop, florist, winery, brewery, antique store and much more. Cannon Falls offers a lot. We’ve previously lingered for hours here. But this trip we focused on finding fall colors. So out of town we headed, eastward bound toward Welch.
FYI: Please check back as I continue on this fall color day trip into rural southern Minnesota.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
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.
#
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