EVERYDAY LIFE presents snapshots of ordinary moments worthy of documentation. So, when I’m out and about in public places, I look for those unique storytelling moments. To capture them with my camera gives me a sense of satisfaction. To share those images is to share a slice of life.
Defined, this is candid street photography. People just going about their daily lives when I take a photo unnoticed. I’m always respectful in my photography, often opting for side or back images. Occasionally I ask for a posed portrait. But my preference is always natural, unscripted.
Recently, upon a return road trip from Rochester, Randy and I stopped in small town Kenyon to shop at a downtown thrift store. But before we could even exit the van, I noticed two guys across the street standing by a mid-1950s International Harvester Farmall tractor chained onto a trailer.
I can only guess at their conversation. Perhaps they were bartering over a price, talking repairs or reminiscing. But the scene was so typical rural Minnesota. Guys dressed in their work-worn jeans (one with suspenders), sturdy work boots and everyday shirts engaged deep in conversation. Only their seed corn caps were missing.
The scene was decidedly different in Faribault the next evening. While attending Car Cruise Night, two Somali women crossed my path on Central Avenue. I smiled and greeted them as they continued down the sidewalk. They carried textiles similar to those I’ve seen in storefront windows of some local Somali-owned businesses.
I appreciated the moment because the women reflect the cultural diversity of my community. The demographics of Faribault, of Minnesota, have changed a lot in recent years and I’m happy to showcase that in my work.
Some 135 miles to the northwest in Willmar, I once again saw the cultural diversity of a city which is home to many Latinos and those with East African roots, especially Somalis. A short walk and drive about the downtown confirmed that.
While photographing an artsy street bench, I encountered a young man sitting on a large planter box. I noticed his patriotic-themed shirt featuring a liberty bell against a backdrop American flag and the message, Let Freedom Ring. “I like your shirt,” I said, as he pulled out his ear buds and then invited me to take his photo. I jumped at the chance to photograph him, creating a memorable portrait. He reflects the diversity of his community. And his t-shirt made a strong statement about liberty during this, the 250th birthday year of a nation built by immigrants.
Up the road some 20 miles northwest of Willmar, I took a street portrait, literally in the street, outside the Kerkhoven Civic Center. The building houses city hall, the library, a heritage room and a community gathering space. It’s just down the street from an ice cream shop along busy U.S. Highway 12.
After enjoying bowls heaping with scoops of key lime pie ice cream and maple nut ice cream from Sweets Ice Cream, Randy and I headed for the van. That’s when I saw a guy leaving the civic center with a crockpot in hands. I stood in the middle of the street—you can do that in Kerkhoven, population around 800—and took his photograph.
If anything says “Minnesota,” it’s a potluck. I didn’t track the guy down to ask if he had any leftovers. I wasn’t hungry after eating all that ice cream. But I was delighted to photograph him in this signature Minnesota moment.
Candid street photography tells a story within a moment of time. History. A record of everyday life. And when I can snapshot that, I feel a sense of accomplishment because I’ve documented a moment worth honoring, worth sharing, worth much more than a thousand words.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
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