Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A plant sale & more at the Merton Town Hall May 26, 2026

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The Merton Town Hall, rural Medford. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

INSIDE THE MERTON TOWN HALL, Audrey Klukas, who lives a few miles away in rural Owatonna, is hosting a May plant sale. She’s hauled plants and canned goods, homemade apple pies and woven rugs from her trailer, up the steps into this aged building.

Audrey Klukas, in the background, arranges plants for sale. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

Marigolds, geraniums, petunias, tomatoes, succulents, peppers, hostas, sedum, coneflowers and more cover tables and sections of the old wooden floor. Tree seedlings sit on a painted church pew.

Hanging baskets of petunias. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

Klukas has grown most of the plants in her rural greenhouse. She’s a woman of many talents, an entrepreneur, a student of horticulture. In 1973, she graduated with the first class of horticulture students completing their two-year degree at the University of Minnesota, Waseca. That technical college closed in 1992.

A sign is propped outside the town hall entry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

It’s clear that Klukas put her education to good use—planting seeds, then watering and nurturing the growing plants. She’s shared the fruits of her labors in this month-long sale, held every Friday through Sunday in May. The final weekend sale is from 9 a.m.-5 p.m. May 29-31.

Looking toward the entrance to the town hall, a view of many plants for sale. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

As I wandered among the plant-filled tables, bright sunshine streamed through the windows, Asian beetles clinging to the warm glass.

Assorted varieties of rhubarb jam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

I admired the jars of canned goods. The pickles. Jam in assorted varieties like rhubarb with strawberry, raspberry and cherry. And then something I’d never seen, pickled kohlrabi and kohlrabi with pepper flakes and jalapeno. I should have bought a jar.

Blue jean rugs in the foreground woven by Audrey Klukas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

Instead, I meandered, taking it all in. I stopped to run my hands across the woven rugs crafted by Klukas and displayed on a table below a flyswatter, a clock and an American flag bannered on the wall above a printed copy of “The Pledge of Allegiance.” I noticed a handprinted sign: Needed old jeans for rugs. It takes a lot of jeans to make a rug, Klukas told me.

4-H memorabilia above and in a trophy case. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

I asked some questions about the building, which she probably uses more than anyone, Klukas said. A 4-H club once met here. And when I looked closer, I saw that verified in an over-sized green clover, a discarded banner and more in and above a trophy case.

A trophy awarded to 4-Hers in 1973. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

A trophy caught my eye. Klukas stepped around her plant tables and onto a stage to remove the trophy from the cabinet. A silver horse topped the Steele County 4-H Club Herdsman Award sponsored by the Sheriff’s Mounted Posse and Auxiliary of Steele County, 1975. I admired the 51-year-old trophy, as much a piece of history as a piece of art.

A sign inside a voting booth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
A township plat shows Merton near the top center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

Since this is the Merton Town Hall, the center of township government, this is also a meeting and polling place. I wiggled my way to the voting booths, divided and cordoned off with blue fabric for privacy. Here locals exercise their right to vote. This is about as grassroots as it gets in a democracy.

A church pew at the back of the town hall holds tree seedlings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)
A partial listing of the plant inventory and prices. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

Klukas and I didn’t talk much. But she shared that a church once used this building, too, which was originally a school. No more details known. School, church, town hall, 4-H club meeting place and now, in the month of May, this simple structure in the middle of farm fields is a space to sell plants, rugs, homemade preserves, pies…the fruits of Klukas’ labors.

An old outhouse sits near the town hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2026)

When I stepped outside the town hall, I considered the feet that have climbed the front steps into this building. To learn. To worship. To discuss township governance. To vote. To commit to the 4 tenets of 4-H: head, heart, hands and health. To gather. And on this May day to shop as farm fields green, as robins tend their young inside an on-site weathered gray outhouse that leans into the land.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Honoring mothers, including mine, on Mother’s Day May 7, 2026

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A photo of me with my mom taken several years before her death in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling)

AS MY FIFTH MOTHER’S DAY without my mom approaches, I’m thinking of her, missing her, remembering her.

She lived a long life, living until nearly ninety, something none of us expected given her heart issues. Several times we were called to her hospital bedside to say goodbye. I remember one instance when Mom was not expected to make it through the night. The next morning she woke up much-improved and told us, “I guess God wasn’t ready for this stubborn old lady.”

I’ll never forget that. But I would argue that Mom was not stubborn. She was kind, caring, compassionate, loving and patient. With six children, she had to be patient. I raised three children and understand the patience required of mothers.

We all hold memories of our moms—positive, negative and otherwise. Moms, like all of us, are imperfect. But they try. They do their best.

Mom’s journals. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

And sometimes they leave us a gift that offers glimpses into their lives. My mom left a stack of notebooks journaling her life from 1947-2014 with a few years missing. These are not diaries with personal feelings and thoughts expressed, but rather a documentation of daily life.

I treasure these notebooks filled with her handwritten observations and notes about life in rural southwestern Minnesota. Hard work filled her days. I pulled out her stenographer’s notebook dated 70 years ago to learn what she was doing in the 10 days before my birth.

Even into her senior years, Mom was still working, supervising a family horseradish-making event and then counting jars of the condiment. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2012)

There was the usual washing clothes in the Maytag wringer washer, mending, housecleaning, baking and preparing meals. But Mom also picked grapes with my dad, made grape juice the next day and the following day made 32 jars of grape jelly and 18½ quarts of tomato juice. And she was only days away from delivering me.

The day before I was born, Mom dusted floors, baked bread and cherry nut cake, took 13 dozen eggs into town and then celebrated her wedding anniversary with her in-laws. I’m tired simply reading that list of work she accomplished while nine months pregnant.

At 3 a.m. the next morning, Mom awoke in labor and arrived at the Redwood Falls hospital at 4:20 a.m., giving birth to 8 lb 12 oz. me 36 minutes later. That’s cutting it close, in my opinion. But when you go into labor in the early morning, need to get your one-year-old son to his grandparents’ house, and then travel 20 miles to the hospital, well, the time lapse seems reasonable.

The only photo I have of my parents, Elvern and Arlene, with me as a baby. My dad is holding my oldest brother, Doug. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo)

Six days after my birth, Mom returned home. I should note here that on her fifth day in the hospital, Mom wrote, “Days are plenty long.” I suppose for a woman used to being busy all the time, lying around proved difficult. But she should have enjoyed the respite from work while she could.

Shortly, Mom was back in full work mode, not only caring for a newborn and a one-year-old and doing other routine household chores, but also feeding a crew of men picking corn on the farm for several days running.

Oh, how I admire this generation of Minnesota farm women who fed and cared for their families and others without the modern conveniences of today. No automatic washer, dryer, dishwasher, microwave. No bathroom or phone in our old farmhouse. Food came mostly from the farm, not the grocery store. And that meant gardening and putting up produce.

A sample entry from Mom’s journals. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’m thankful my mom found time to journal daily. Even if her entries were only several lines long, she apparently thought this documentation important. And I suppose in farming it was, allowing her and my dad to look back on the previous year’s weather, planting and harvesting progress, and such. But I think, too, writing in those spiral bound notebooks gave her a creative outlet and time for herself.

My mom saved everything, including this Mother’s Day card I made for her in elementary school. I cut a flower from a seed catalog to create the front of this card. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted image)

Mother’s Day offers a time to reflect on motherhood. Most give selflessly, love unconditionally, do the best they can. Mine did. And she left, too, her words chronicling everyday life as a mother and as a farm wife. As a writer I cherish this gift, not only on Mother’s Day, but always.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Kenyon up close, the details of community April 30, 2026

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A street scene in the heart of downtown Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

TO WRITE A FICTIONAL BOOK, you begin with an idea, which births words. Words beget sentences, then paragraphs, then chapters. But the process is not quite that simple. Creating a work of fiction requires attention to detail from character development to dialogue to setting to plot. I’ve written short stories that have published, thus understand the craft.

I want to hone in on one word—details. They are a hallmark of a good story, of creative writing. And they are also the hallmark of small towns. Let me explain.

Just as you drive into Kenyon from the west, you’ll see this TARDIS in a residential yard. It’s the featured mode of transportation in the BBC sci-fi television show “Doctor Who.”

How many times have you driven through a community without really seeing it, without noticing the rich details that, like details in a story, make it unique, interesting?

I notice the little things. Perhaps it’s my journalism and photography background that draw me to look closer, beyond the surface. I seek out anything that is different, unusual, surprising. And I’m never disappointed.

Help wanted in Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Drive slowly around any small town or walk along Main Street with a focused perspective and you will soon see the details that integrate into the story line of a community. That includes Kenyon, a Goodhue County town of around 1,900 best known for its Boulevard of Roses.

Sign painter Mike Meyer, formerly of Mazeppa, painted the sign for the former Martin Fox Garage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2026)

Minnesota State Highway 60, along which all those roses grow, runs right through the heart of Kenyon, intersecting with state highway 56. The intersection thrums with traffic. But I wonder how many motorists notice the bold Fox’s Garage Firestone Tires sign painted on the side of a stalwart brick building half a block away from that busy intersection? It’s an artsy nod to local history.

This memorial is located in the veterans park along Minnesota State Highway 56. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Nearby, at the Kenyon Veterans Memorial Park, I discovered Jacob’s Tree and a plaque honoring Jacob Wetterling and all missing children. It was an unexpected memorial in a place focused on veterans. But it also seemed fitting to honor the 11-year-old Minnesota boy who was abducted by a stranger in 1989, his remains found 27 years later. Jacob was, after all, a small town boy grabbed while biking to a video store.

The video store is closed, but the sign remains. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Kenyon once had a video store, now a tobacco and vape shop. The K-Town Video sign tells me that.

For a small town, Kenyon offers several downtown food options, including Che Che’s Lunchera at a former corner gas station. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Likewise, remnants of fuel pricing signage still banner a former gas station where today Che Che’s Lunchera food truck serves up Mexican food under the station canopy.

Old, faded signage posted long ago for snowmobilers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Details like these point to a town’s history, to its evolution. Back at the vets park, a fading vintage sign once directed snowmobilers to gas and food along a designated trail route.

The newest sign at Kenyon Meats. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

I hold a fondness for signs and Kenyon offers plenty of homegrown signage. That includes clever and humorous messages posted outside Kenyon Meats along highway 60. I expect many motorists have noticed SMOKE MEAT NOT METH and DON’T FRY BACON NAKED. And now the newest—YOUR MOM LIKES OUR MEAT.

A tractor and a pick-up truck, rural hallmarks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

But it takes a turn onto a side street and through an alley to see an old John Deere tractor parked next to a pick-up truck behind a building. This is a farming community rooted in rural.

A basketball hoop in an unexpected place. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Along that same alley, next to the post office parking lot, I noticed a basketball hoop standing between dumpsters and a recycling bin. It seemed out of place until I realized there’s probably an apartment above the post office. The hoop hints at teens dribbling a basketball across the pavement on a hot summer evening, arms and legs flailing in a pick-up game, sweat beading their foreheads.

An honoring message on a door at the VFW. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Across the street at the Kenyon VFW, I spotted the silhouette of a veteran on a side door with an honoring message of “WE SALUTE YOU.” More characters, more dialogue, more stories. On this visit to Kenyon, I looked for details that often go unnoticed. And when I looked, I saw community.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Into rural southern Minnesota during spring planting April 28, 2026

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Planting just off Gates Avenue along 230th St. E. east of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2026)

MY PHOTOGRAPHIC GOAL on a recent morning trip to and from neighboring Kenyon was simple enough: Photograph spring planting. But it wasn’t until Randy and I left this small Goodhue County town that I spotted field work underway.

On the drive over from Faribault, I saw a guy picking rock with a rock picker. He had uncovered an oversized rock, too big to move. That led to a brief conversation about our childhood rock picking experiences. Rock pickers were kids like us, not machines. They did not yet exist.

We assessed, as we headed east, that the absence of farmers in fields meant they’d either finished spring planting or had not yet begun due to no-tillage farming practices.

A winding road leads into Monkey Valley. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Once we left Kenyon, heading southwest into Monkey Valley, a picturesque rural area of woods, rolling hills and valley, creek, the North Fork of the Zumbro River, farm sites and fields, a tractor came into view. I must pause here to explain that Monkey Valley, as local lore claims, was named after monkeys that long ago escaped from a traveling circus into the valley. True? I don’t know. But it’s a good story.

Leveling the field with a roller in Monkey Valley. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

I found that first farmer, pulling a roller across the land leveling the earth, just before the gravel road wound into the woods of Monkey Valley. I realized how much farming has changed in the decades since I left rural southwestern Minnesota. There’s more specialized equipment. Bigger implements to work more acres. Different methods of farming that are more environmentally-friendly.

The woods of Monkey Valley. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

As we followed the gravel road, our van kicking up dust on an especially windy morning, I admired the distant dense woods nestling a farm field under a semi-cloudy sky. Patches of blue peeked through the gray of building rain clouds.

The Old Stone Church and cemetery in Monkey Valley. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Soon we happened upon the Hauge Old Stone Church built in the 1870s, a place we’ve previously toured during an annual open house. We stopped only long enough for a photo. No meandering among the graves this time as we are wont to do when coming across a country cemetery.

An old silo and barn ruins. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Farm sites hug the road here in Monkey Valley. While many are well-kept, some show the marks of time, like an abandoned silo standing next to the walls of a collapsed barn. I always feel melancholy in the presence of barns gone, their ruins like rural gravestones.

Wild turkeys cross a rural road near Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Not far ahead, life teemed in a flock of wild turkeys. I exited the van, moved slowly toward them, hoping to sneak closer for a better photo. But, like all wildlife, they are tuned in to danger and quickly dashed across the road from one ditch to the other. Never mind me and my photographic wishes.

Signs on a tree advise motorists to drive slowly. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Traveling on back gravel roads requires a slower pace. A sign posted on a roadside tree instructed: SLOW UR (sic) ROLL.

Cows at Donkers Farms. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Continuing west toward Faribault, we slowed our roll for a herd of Holsteins fenced in the cow yard at Donkers Farm. I hold a special fondness for cows. I spent my formative years in the barn, scooping silage, pushing a wheelbarrow full of ground feed, feeding cows and calves, bedding straw, forking hay, shoveling manure, carrying milk pails and more. That imprinted upon me the value of hard work, of a farm family working together, of a rural way of life.

Tilling and applying anhydrous ammonia fertilizer in a field along 230th St. E. off Gates Avenue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

All across southern Minnesota, farmers prep the land, apply fertilizer, sow corn and soybeans. They invest not only their time, efforts and finances in the land, but also their hopes. Hope for timely rains. Hope for good growing weather. Hope for an eventual bountiful harvest. And then hope for a good market with high commodity prices.

Another farmer in the field east of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

So much hinges on hope. I see that on this day, on this drive past the fields and farm sites of southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Persistent peaceful protest April 23, 2026

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Protesting by the Rice County government services building along Minnesota State Highway 60 in Faribault during the third No Kings Day nationwide protest in March. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2026)

THEY PROTESTED during the Vietnam War. Larry, Karl and Mary, who was tear-gassed at the University of Minnesota back in the day. Nearly 60 years later, they are on the protest line again, holding signs, voicing their concerns.

On a brutally cold February morning, my friend Larry held this sign on the protest line. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2026)

And I’m there, too, standing along Minnesota State Highway 60/Fourth Street in Faribault exercising my First Amendment rights to free speech. I never thought that at my age, I would become a protester. But nearly every Saturday morning from 11 a.m.-noon for the past three months, I’ve stood in solidarity with Larry, Karl, Mary, Kate, Mercedes, Randy, Raven, Matt, Barb, Kirsten, John, Gary, Wendy, Elizabeth, Josh, Sheri, Mark, Ann, Reed, Susan, Donna, Travis, Carrie, Allison, Hannah…up to 175 people at the most recent No Kings Day protest.

I’m proud to call these kind, compassionate and caring individuals my friends. Some I’ve met on the protest line; others I knew previously. Whether friendships old or new, I value every single person who is taking a public stand against the chaos unfolding in this country. There is value in protesting.

I saw this message online and immediately knew I needed to craft this sign. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

We express our concerns in the signs we craft, or buy, and hold for passing motorists to see. Concerns about immigration enforcement, the environment, Constitutional rights, the Epstein files, voting rights, the future of our democracy, human rights, data centers, the economy, incompetency of elected officials, un-presidential images with comparisons to Jesus…and most recently the war in Iran.

A sign I made and held at a protest this winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2026)

I have a stash of signs in my basement and continue to create new ones. When issues pop up, I pull out the markers, the tag board or cardboard, the stencils and write a message. There’s no shortage of concerns I hold for this country and world under the current federal leadership.

One of my newer protest signs focuses on peace. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

Lately I’ve held “Peace, not war” signs. It’s an issue on everyone’s mind, this unnecessary war our president started without Congressional approval, without a clear understanding of the Iranian regime’s mindset, without an exit. American soldiers are dying. The economy is a mess. And on and on. Threats to bomb away a civilization don’t sit well with me. Nor do comparisons to Jesus or attacks on Pope Leo XIV.

Peace has always felt elusive. Even on the protest line, where we practice peace, we sometimes find ourselves under verbal attack from motorists who clearly support the president and his agenda. We’ve been yelled at, called “stupid, retarded, mentally ill, dumb a**es” and more while getting the middle finger sometimes accompanied by a “f**k you!”. We just smile and wave, refusing to give these angry MAGA individuals the negative reaction they desire. That said, when they drive dangerously close to us at a high rate of speed, they cross the line from free speech to public endangerment.

Nearly 60 years ago, Larry, Karl and Mary were young adults protesting the Vietnam War. I admire that they are back on the protest line. They understand the importance of speaking up, of not remaining silent.

Peace, a children’s picture book illustrated by a Michigan artist. (Book cover sourced online)

Creatives like Wendy Anderson Halperin also understand how we can use our voices to make a difference. I recently found her book, simply titled Peace, at my local library. Published in 2013, this children’s picture book is especially relevant today. I encourage you to read it, to study Halperin’s detailed illustrations and to read the many quotes woven into the artwork. Quotes that are thought-provoking, uplifting, revealing, encouraging.

I leave you with two quotes printed in Peace:

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”—Jimi Hendrix.

“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and greed. If people all over the world would do this, it would change the earth.”—William Faulkner.

I came up with this sign idea after an ICE agent was charged last week with felony second-degree assault for allegedly pointing a gun at two people in a vehicle along a Twin Cities highway during Operation Metro Surge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)

RELATED: Sahan Journal, a nonprofit digital newsroom in Minnesota dedicated to reporting for immigrants and people of color, published an outstanding article on April 21 about more than 70 Minnesota children detained by federal immigration agents during Operation Metro Surge. This is an eye-opening story that should be read by everyone, regardless of political affiliation. Click here to read.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Down the memory aisle of variety stores in Minnesota April 14, 2026

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A section of Main Street in Kasson where I discovered a variety store of sorts in the second building from the corner. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

ONCE UPON A TIME, long before shopping online became a thing, long before malls and long before the prevalence of big box stores, small town Main Street centered retail commerce.

A Ben Franklin store in downtown Park Rapids, which I popped into and photographed in 2017. The store has since closed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

Mom and pop shops prevailed, mostly meeting a community’s basics needs. But even back in the day, a few chain stores existed. I’m talking five-and-dime variety stores like Ben Franklin and Woolworths.

The Woolworths store along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault, photographed during its grand opening on June 11, 1969, and closed years ago. (Photo courtesy of the Rice County Historical Society)

As a Baby Boomer, I hold fond youthful memories of these two stores. Of buying 45 rpm vinyl singles, nail polish, embroidery patterns, fabric… But even into adulthood I shopped at both, including at Woolworths along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault. Here I bought goldfish (for my kids) scooped from tanks in the back of the store. Here our family bought basics and other goods.

That variety store closed long ago, along with many other businesses that once claimed space in my community. Today Faribault’s downtown looks much different than when I moved here 44 years ago. That’s to be expected. Businesses close. New businesses open. A few endure for generations. As a place and times change, so do its businesses.

I didn’t notice the sign on the building, but rather a small hometown sausage sign on the window to the left of the door at KLG. That drew me inside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

But occasionally I discover a place that takes me back to yesteryear in a flashback of memories. That happened recently in the small town of Kasson, just west of Rochester along U.S. Highway 14. While walking through the downtown, I found KLG Store. The name itself told me nothing about the business. But a printed sign in the front window advertising “Kasson Hometown Sausage Sold Here!” drew me inside. Not that I like sausage. I don’t. But I appreciate quirky no-frills signs.

Clerk and customer confer about fabric next to cubbies of yarn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Piles of fabric cover tables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Bolts of fabric are stashed under the tables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Yet, once inside KLG, I was immediately drawn to cubbies of yarn, then tables and shelves packed with bolts of fabric. I forgot all about the sausage. Instead, I ran my hands across cloth, eyed the colorful prints, remembered my teen years when I stitched nearly all of my clothing.

Rows of spooled thread to match with fabric. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
So many colorful patterns. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Lots of choices for quilters, crafters, seamstresses… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

I haven’t touched my sewing machine in years. For a moment I thought perhaps I should pull it out of storage and resume a creative activity I once loved. Spools of colorful Coats & Clark thread had me visually pairing thread with fabric. Psychedelic prints had me visually pinning and cutting patterns for a seventies fashion statement. Oh, the memories.

The vintage fold-away baskets, right, prompted me to ask if this had once been a dime store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Then a stash of vintage collapsible fold-away baskets distracted me, temporarily pausing my fawning over fabric, yarn and embroidery patterns. The red, green and gold fabric and metal baskets with wooden handles are signature five-and-dime store staples.

These embroidery transfer patterns brought back lots of memories. I used such patterns to embroider clothes and more in the 1970s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Turns out KLG once housed a Ben Frankin store. I felt giddy upon learning that, but also a tad melancholy. The fold-away baskets reminded me of the passage of time, of how quickly the decades fly.

This sausage originated in Kasson, but is now made in Waseca. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

This building in some ways still houses a variety store with fabric, yarn and notions; products produced via laser engraving, digital and screen printing; and Kasson Hometown sausage, brats and other meats filling coolers. The hometown sausage, though, is no longer made in Kasson, but rather at Morgan’s Meat Market in Waseca.

Looking from the back of the fabric and notions section to the yarn at the front of the store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Times change. Businesses change. But sometimes remnants of the past remain, like those fold away shopping baskets inside KLG. Durable baskets that took me back in time to Ben Franklin and Woolworths along yesterday’s Main Street.

Shelved fabric bolts are sorted by color and seasonal design. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

TELL ME: If you have any special memories of dime stores, I’d like to hear them.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Standing in strong solidarity on No Kings Day in Faribault March 28, 2026

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One of my favorite signs, expressing truth no matter your political affiliation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

WE GATHERED, 175 STRONG, in Faribault on Saturday morning for the third nationwide No Kings Day protest. In a city which is decidedly red, this number impresses. This marked a record turn-out, far surpassing our top participation of eighty. I saw many new faces. And a few new dogs.

This shows only a small portion of the line of protesters, some of whom brought their dogs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

From a preschooler, who plastered stickers onto a cardboard sign and held his mom’s hand, to a first-time protester in her eighties, and all ages in between, we came.

The Faribault protest site is along Minnesota State Highway 60 outside the Rice County government services building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

We stood along Minnesota State Highway 60 in this city of 25,000 an hour south of the Twin Cities to raise our voices. We care about this country enough to step up and speak out. And not a single one of us was paid to protest, as some erroneously claim.

We came with hope and energy and enthusiasm.

Another favorite sign, for its message, creativity and humor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

We came, too, with our signs. Grievances. Concerns. Demands. Strong statements in support of freedom, democracy, voting rights, immigrants… Strong statements against the leadership in this country, immigration enforcement, the war in Iran. Strong statements about the state of the nation, the economy, whatever worries us.

When I saw several protesters without signs, I offered extras I brought. Pulling the signs from the back of the van, I asked them to put the signs back before they left. They did.

My friend Ann, center, came in a flower power sweater she handcrafted. I absolutely love this vintage 70s look, which fits protesting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

We came in our red Norwegian resistance hats and our handcrafted flower power sweaters and our Rebel Loon shirts.

A sign, with a humorous twist, that shows deep concern about Trump’s presidency. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

We came, too, with our music, a guitarist and a bagpipe player adding a celebratory tone to the event. This was, after all, also a rally for like-minded folks who care about each other, their neighbors, this community, this state and America.

The Rebel Loon, on the backs of these shirts, has become a symbol of resistance in Minnesota. The loon is our state bird. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

It felt good to stand in solidarity, to talk and smile and lift each other up. To not feel so alone in one’s beliefs in a mostly Republican town.

My husband, Randy, made and carried this humorous sign, which garnered lots of laughs. And compliments. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

It felt good also to laugh at humorous signs. To compliment those who made especially creative signs. To recognize that every person lining the sidewalk on both sides of the highway had a vested interest in publicly standing up for what is right and good and decent.

I walked the protest line, welcoming protesters, looking at their signs, thanking them for coming, encouraging them to return next Saturday from 11 a.m. to noon.

This is not done. This resistance.

As a Christian, this sign really resonates with me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

We will continue to come with our signs. We will come with our peace and Minnesota state and American flags. We will come with our stories and our words and our voices.

We will come in the spirit of peaceful resistance. In the spirit of resilience and strength and compassion. We are, and remain, Minnesota Strong.

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THANK YOU to everyone who participated in the No Kings Day protests at 3,100 sites across this nation today. A special thanks to those who showed up in Faribault. To those I invited, those I met, those I knew from past protests, know how much I value you and your voice. To the estimated 100,000 who attended the flagship event at the Minnesota state capitol in St. Paul, thank you for showing the world the strength of Minnesotans. To protesters who gathered in other countries, this American is grateful for your support. Continue to stand strong in solidarity for freedom. We must. We will.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In appreciation of those protesting in rural areas on No Kings Day March 27, 2026

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An abandoned farmhouse in rural southwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ON THIS, THE DAY before nationwide No Kings Day protests, I want to pause and thank the many people in small towns, in the most rural of regions, who are standing up for democracy. Media attention tomorrow will focus on protests in big cities. That coverage is expected. But equally as important are the rallies in communities of a couple hundred or several thousand deep in red territory.

In these places, publicly standing against the Trump administration takes, simply put, guts. Everyone knows everyone in small towns and it’s not necessarily easy to be politically at odds with one another. These are the people you see at the post office, worship with, meet for coffee, work beside, live next door to, do business with.

A protester at a No Kings Day protest in Northfield, a college town of about 21,000 and 20 minutes from my community. I protested in Northfield before protests began in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2025)

When those who oppose Trump, his administration and policies protest in rural Republican strongholds, they expose themselves as “the other.” Yet, it is this very public act of defiance and resistance which can get people thinking, start conversations, open doors to change. Now, more than ever, it’s important to fearlessly oppose tyranny. It’s important to stand up for freedom, voting rights, immigrants, justice, due process… It’s important to express concerns about the economy, the war in Iran, the overall state of this country.

Upon looking at a map of all the No Kings Day protest sites in Minnesota, I found many in rural areas. From Madison, population 1,500 and the self-proclaimed “Lutefisk Capital of the USA” near the South Dakota border, to Baudette, population 1,100 and the “Walleye Capital of the World” near the Canadian border, Minnesotans will gather. Even in my deeply red home county of Redwood in southwestern Minnesota, a protest is planned in the county seat of Redwood Falls.

In St. James, also in southwestern Minnesota and a town where I once lived and worked as a regional news reporter for the Mankato Free Press, a No Kings Day event is set. The community of 4,800 is home to many Hispanics and Latinos and was targeted by federal immigration enforcement agents during Operation Metro Surge.

A photograph of Paul Bunyan taken many years ago in Hackensack. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Even Hackensack, in Paul Bunyan’s northern Minnesota lake country, is on the Saturday protest map. That town has a population of just under 300 as does Cyrus, near Morris in far western Minnesota, also holding a No Kings Day protest.

From my community of Faribault, with a population of around 25,000, to Kenyon to the east with some 1,800 residents, to the small towns of Rushford, St. Charles, Spring Grove and Preston in the far southeastern corner of Minnesota, and many small towns and cities across the state, people will gather in protest on Saturday.

In St. Paul, organizers are expecting up to 100,000 to rally at the state capitol. Those are some impressive numbers. Yet, if even five people show up in a small town to protest, that’s impressive, too.

Fellow protester Susan gifted me with this Rebel Loon pin crafted by her husband. The loon is Minnesota’s state bird. The graphic symbolizes resistance in the North Star state. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted and edited photo March 2026)

Every voice of resistance matters, wherever you live, rural, suburban or urban.

FYI: The Faribault No Kings Day protest is from 11 a.m.-noon March 28 (and every Saturday) by the Rice County government services building along Minnesota State Highway 60.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Through my camera lens: Rural Minnesota in March March 11, 2026

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I’m drawn to photograph barns, this one along Goodhue County Road 11 west of Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

IN THIS GO-BETWEEN TIME of almost spring here in southern Minnesota, the landscape appears mostly winter drab, plain, devoid of many photo opportunities. That is until I look beyond the bare-branched trees, the barren land, the basic gray of March skies.

The brightest farm outbuilding I’ve ever seen is this one along Minnesota State Highway 60 between Faribault and Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Color, although not abundant, can still be found among the neutral hues.

Camera in hand, I watched for bright spots and more on a recent business road trip with my husband to Rochester. I kept an eye out for anything I thought would be photo-worthy. Or interesting. My definition of both may differ from yours.

Along Goodhue County Road 11 to the west of Pine Island, I found lots of well-kept red barns to photograph. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

But I enjoy on-the-road, literally, photography—taking photos from the passenger seat inside a moving vehicle. This requires awareness, anticipation and quick framing with the camera set at a fast shutter speed. Clean, or mostly clean, windows help as does a smooth road.

Sometimes I get the image I want. And sometimes I get an unfocused photo. It’s a bit of a crapshoot.

Fog shrouds bins and a grain drying complex along US Highway 14 west of Rochester. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Regardless of photo outcomes, I’m content to scan my surroundings, appreciating the nuances of rural Minnesota. On this particular Thursday morning along US Highway 14 about 20 minutes west of Rochester, I was drawn first to fog enveloping a farm site. Gray on gray on gray on gray. Gray skies. Gray bins. Gray grain dryers. Long gray metal buildings.

The restored historic Ear of Corn Water Tower near Graham Park in Rochester on a recent gray morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Once in Rochester, color popped at me from a roadside attraction, the 151-foot tall Ear of Corn Water Tower built in 1931 for Reid, Murdoch & Co. The food cannery used the 50,000 gallon water tower in its canning operation, which included canning corn. The business changed hands twice before the plant closed in 2018. But the water tower landmark remains. I found it definitely photo-worthy as we passed by.

An American flag as photographed along US Highway 52 in Rochester. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

But something as simple as as an over-sized American flag flapping in the morning breeze, a red barn flashing color, a sprawling white farmhouse, a row of power lines, a distant farm site can grab my visual attention, too.

I always wanted to live in a sprawling farmhouse similar to this one along Goodhue County Road 11. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

I’m drawn to photograph rural scenes because of my farm background. Deep in my soul, I long to live again in the countryside, away from close neighbors, near nature, cocooned by quiet. But reality is that will never happen.

And so I find ways to reconnect with the land. In my writing. In my photography. In every season.

A farm site west of Pine Island along Goodhue County Road 11. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Every farm field holds the hope of a farmer. Every farm site holds memories and hard work. And dreams. I see this on the road, through my camera lens, as my focus shifts with every mile covered.

Kenyon-Wanamingo High School sporting accomplishments banner signs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

I view an ever-changing rural winter landscape of red barns, aged farmhouses, towering silos, untilled fields and then, on the edge of Kenyon, signage boasting local high school sporting championships. Such signs are common in small Minnesota communities.

I zoomed in on this eagle flying high above the land outside Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Nearing the end of this quick road trip, an eagle leads us along Minnesota State Highway 60 west of Kenyon before veering to the right. When I see this majestic bird on this day, I feel as I always do about eagles—in awe of their size, their power, their speed. I snap three quick frames.

Massive power lines stretch seemingly into infinity along US Highway 14 somewhere between Owatonna and Rochester. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)

Time passes. Miles pass. Rural southern Minnesota unfolds before me, captured through the lens of my camera on an almost-spring day in March.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In communion at Valley Grove doughnut hole roasting February 16, 2026

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People gather on February 15 for a Doughnut Hole Roasting Party at Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

UNDER A SUNNY February sky, they gathered in communion around fire pits outside two historic Norwegian immigrant churches high atop a hill in eastern Rice County. Food, fellowship and a fondness for this place drew people here, to the fourth annual Doughnut Hole Roasting Party.

Walking up the muddy gravel driveway to the hilltop Valley Grove churches. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

For the first time, I attended this event, although I’ve been to the Valley Grove churches and the adjacent cemetery many times. I love this secluded spot near Nerstrand, where historic wood-frame and limestone churches rise above the surrounding countryside in an especially picturesque setting. There are prairie trails to hike here and an oak savanna. It’s peaceful here.

A group of bikers wheel up the hill to Valley Grove for the Doughnut Hole Roasting Party. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

On this balmy Sunday afternoon of unseasonably warm temps in the mid-fifties, sweatshirt or light jacket weather, conversations broke the quiet. The mood felt engaging, connective, of communion in community.

At the doughnut station, people could spear doughnuts, dip them in chocolate or cinnamon and sugar and/or drop a donation inside a replica church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

Hosted by the Valley Grove Preservation Society Board, the roasting of doughnut holes was also an event to raise monies for ongoing preservation and restoration projects at the 1862 stone and 1894 wooden churches. Both churches are on the National Register of Historic Places.

Inside the stone church, once used for worship and today for gathering. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
Looking through a window of the stone church, I photographed people gathering on the lawn for the Doughnut Hole Roasting Party. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

Even with no personal connection to these churches or the Norwegian heritage, I understand the historical importance of these immigrant churches. Step inside either church and you can almost feel the strength of those early Norwegians who crossed the ocean, started a new life in Minnesota, built first the now 164-year-old stone church and then the 132-year-old wood-frame church.

The beautiful wooden church, where the steeple was recently-restored and the bell was rung at the Doughnut Hole Roasting Party. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

The stone church serves today primarily as a social gathering spot. The wooden church still hosts the occasional service—a wedding, a funeral and the annual Christmas Eve worship. Other celebrations like Syttende Mai, a wedding anniversary reunion and a country social are also held annually at Valley Grove.

Roasting doughnut holes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
A group roasts doughnut holes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)
People stuck the metal roasting sticks in a bucket of snow when they were done roasting their doughnut holes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

But on this day, we focused on doughnut holes forked onto metal roasting sticks and held over an open flame. Some roasted their treats to coal black, to caramelize the doughnuts I was told. Not fond of charred anything, I preferred mine heated then dipped in chocolate. They were sweet and tasty and messy. I found a shadowed patch of remnant snow to “wash” my sticky fingers.

Mary and her dog in the Valley Grove Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

Although I knew only one person here, I made a new friend, Mary, who sat with her dog on a stone memorial bench in the cemetery, sunshine beaming warmth upon them. Others meandered through the graveyard where early Norwegian immigrants, their descendants and others lie buried beneath the cold earth.

With the historic limestone church as a backdrop, people visit and roast doughnut holes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2026)

On the dormant lawn between the two churches, people clustered—standing, sitting in lawn chairs, bending, reaching over flames to roast doughnut holes on a Sunday afternoon in mid-February in southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling