WHILE ON THE ROAD from Faribault to my hometown of Vesta and back recently, I noticed interesting roadside details. These may not necessarily catch the attention of other motorists. But they caught my eye.

“BARGAIN” GAS
Let’s start with the price of unleaded gas at Morgan Convenience, Food & Fuel. It was priced at $4.18 (rounded up a tenth) on May 26. Elsewhere along the route, the cost was $4.49 (rounded up a tenth). I don’t understand how the gas price in Morgan, a small rural Minnesota town of some 900, can be so much lower than in neighboring New Ulm, population around 14,000, for example. Or in Faribault with about 25,000 residents. This makes no sense to me and is not the first time gas prices in more rural outstate Minnesota have been priced considerably lower.
MORE THAN JUST BURGERS
Also in Morgan, I spotted this sign: THE SPOTT. And, yes, the period is part of the abbreviated name. Clever. Upon returning home, I researched this business, full name The Spotted Bear Ale House. It’s a restaurant and full service bar.
The Facebook page features lots of food I’d enjoy: loaded pulled pork baked potato; pulled beef Gouda sliders with Parmesan fries; caramel, strawberry lemon, raspberry and/or banana rolls with peanut butter frosting; General Tso chicken and rice with crab salad; and more. Yum. The offerings impress me as vastly different from your typical small town burgers and other bar food. As a side note, this business is for sale.

AN ESTATE IN THE MIDDLE OF FARM FIELDS
Just down the highway, another sign grabbed my attention. That was signage on an old threshing machine marking the Redwood County Historical Society’s Gilfillan Estate. It’s not the sign so much as this property west of Morgan along Minnesota State Highway 67 that is noteworthy. Here you’ll find both the estate and the site of Minnesota Farmfest.
The estate, with its long, tree-lined driveway leading to a stately house, has been here for as long as I can remember. The original owner, Charles Duncan Gilfillan (1831-1902), bought 10,000 acres of Redwood County farmland. He built a house, offices, a grain elevator, stockyard and tenet homes here and raised purebred livestock exported to Great Britain. Eventually his son, Charles Oswin Gilfillan, took over the estate. The younger Gilfillan was an active philanthropist in Redwood County. I must make an effort sometime to tour the estate and learn more about the Gilfillans and their generosity.

A NOD TO FARMING OF YESTERYEAR
More history is written onto a silo that hugs U.S. Highway 14 east of New Ulm. The A.C.O. on the brick silo stands for AC Ochs of the AC Ochs Brick and Tile Company in Springfield, several towns down the road to the west 30 miles distant. These silos, made from curved bricks, were built across the Midwest between 1910-1945. I love their historic, signature look and their unique construction. They are landmarks of a bygone era of diversified small family farms.

AN OLD SCHOOL MOTEL
In New Ulm, the Colonial Inn along North Broadway/Highway 14 appears old school motel. And it is. Built in 1953, rooms in the U-shaped building open to the paved parking lot. While I’ve only seen the motel from the exterior and a few photos on the no-frills website, this motel seems exactly as I would expect. Basic. Simple. And a throwback to yesteryear with the exception of WiFi.
FIRE & BRIMSTONE
Finally, in the Smiths Mill area along Highway 14 east of Mankato, a thought-provoking sign asks whether you will go to heaven or to hell when you die. I have no idea who paid for this billboard with the John 3:36 notation at the bottom. But it’s certainly an oddity in highway signage. Fire or no fire?
You never know what you’ll discover while on the road.
© 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.
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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