Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Fall harvest observations in southern Minnesota October 14, 2026

A recent fall drive took us deep into the southern Minnesota countryside, where harvest is underway. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

A PLANNED FALL COLOR DRIVE evolved into more like a harvest drive as Randy and I traveled recently through parts of Rice, Steele, Waseca and LeSueur counties. While we saw some color in the trees, fall field work centered our observations.

Combining beans, a dusty, dirty job in dry conditions. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Area farmers were busy harvesting soybeans on the day we meandered through the countryside to the west of Faribault with no set destination.

A beautiful barn, fronted by a cornfield, somewhere west of Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Given our farm backgrounds—Randy rooted in Morrison County in central Minnesota and me in Redwood County in southwestern Minnesota—we remain interested in farming, particularly in spring planting and fall harvest.

An overview of soybean harvesting with multiple combines and trucks in the field and on the road. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

On this unseasonably warm autumn day, farmers hustled to get the beans out, their mammoth combines enveloped in dust as the machines raked across the acres. A stretch of hot, dry days made for ideal harvest weather.

A farmer waits outside the grain elevator in Montgomery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Grain trucks idled, awaiting loads of beans. Others brimmed with golden orbs. Gravity flow wagons pulled by tractors or pickup trucks also held the bounty of crops.

A red and white cooler sits inside the cab of this combine. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

I noticed the details, too, like a small cooler inside a combine cab, probably packed with lunch. My friend Virginia shared recently that she delivered lunch to her son harvesting in the Millersburg area. It’s likely not all that uncommon for family members to take meals to farmers in the field. Going up to the farmhouse for lunch takes too much time.

A grain truck barrels down a gravel road in a cloud of dust near Cannon City. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Time is the farmer’s constant companion during this season of harvest. As the days tick closer to winter, pressure mounts to get first the soybeans, then the corn, out.

Grain bins dominate a farm site near Blooming Grove United Methodist Church, rural Morristown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

And then there’s the weather, always the weather. Unwanted rain can delay harvest, adding to an already stressful situation.

Farmers, whether in the field or on the road, are in a time crunch to finish the harvest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

It takes a lot of mental fortitude to crop farm—to handle the stressors of time, weather, fluctuating prices and increasing operational expenses. But help is available 24/7 through a free and confidential state-funded Minnesota Farm & Rural Helpline at 833-600-2670. Trained counselors will listen, help and connect as needed. Other resources such as NAMI Minnesota and the Suicide Lifeline (call, text or chat to 988) are also available to assist.

A fire extinguisher hangs on the combine exterior as a farmer harvests soybeans. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Along with mental health are physical safety concerns. I was reminded of that when I noticed a fire extinguisher attached to the side of laddered steps leading into a combine. Occasionally fire erupts when crop debris meets hot machinery or parts get overheated or for other reasons.

Machinery parked in a farmyard, at the ready for harvest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

I expect most farmers take safety seriously. Yet it’s easy, when you’re working long, exhausting days and late into the night on minimal sleep, for accidents to happen. Every harvest season across Minnesota there are stories of grain bin rescues, sometimes successful, sometimes not.

An Allis Chalmers corn chopper, like this one exhibited at the 2010 Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show, claimed my father-in-law’s left hand and part of his forearm. Randy is standing next to the machine. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Thankfully safety shields on modern day machinery mostly protect from serious injuries, unlike when my father-in-law’s left hand was pulled into a corn chopper in 1967. The accident happened as he hand-fed corn into the chopper. The blades chopped off his fingers with a surgeon later amputating part of his forearm. Eleven-year-old Randy, in the field with his dad when the accident happened, turned off the power take-off and then ran to a neighbor’s farm for help.

With much of the soybean harvest now done, corn harvest is underway, here near Cannon City. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

As we drove through the southern Minnesota countryside, deep into harvest, I thought of that long ago farm accident involving the man who would become my father-in-law. And I considered all the farmers today who love the land and farming, but who work in one of the top 10 most dangerous occupations in the U.S.

A tractor pulling a gravity flow wagon, turns off old U.S. Highway 14 in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2026)

Farm life may, on the surface, appear a bucolic, simple life. But in reality, it isn’t. It’s hard work. I’m reminded of that as I travel through the countryside, documenting field work. This chosen life comes with rewards and risks, from planting to harvest.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An Irish blessing for you on St. Patrick’s Day March 17, 2025

Engraved on a tombstone at Corpus Christi Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2025)

THE SUN SHADOWED the tombstone, making photographing the words thereon a challenge no matter which way I angled my body and camera. So in the end, I settled on two images to share an Irish blessing with you on this, St. Patrick’s Day.

Corpus Christi Catholic Church, Deerfield Township. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2025)

I found this gravestone blessing in the cemetery of Corpus Christi Catholic Church, a shuttered country church in Deerfield Township, rural Steele County, Minnesota. The 1856 church closed in 2016, when it merged with Christ the King Catholic Church in nearby Medford. It opens now for special occasions and is clearly much beloved by those who once worshiped here.

Another view of the Irish blessing with the bottom lines more visible. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2025)

As I wandered among tombstones in the partially snow-covered cemetery, reading names and inscriptions a week before St. Patrick’s Day, I happened upon the familiar Irish blessing. I love the strong visuals the words create. The road. The sun. The fields. I can almost feel the road beneath my feet, the warm sun on my face, the soft rain on my skin, the wind at my back. The hand of God holding me securely.

While the blessing in this context is one of seeing a departed loved one again in heaven, the words fit the living, too. When we say goodbye to family and friends, especially those we won’t see for awhile, our love carries us until the next time we meet.

The message in this Irish blessing is so uplifting, so encouraging, so caring. Gentle words. Loving words. Words that carry us through the days of our lives, whether sunny or rainy. Always hopeful.

Blessed be your St. Patrick’s Day and every day thereafter…until we meet again.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No lions or tigers, but bears, oh, my May 26, 2023

A fox climbs the wooded hillside behind our garage in January 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2018)

YEARS AGO, A VARIETY OF WILDLIFE frequented the wooded hillside behind our garage and spilled over into our and our next-door neighbors’ yards. Raccoons, woodchucks, opossums, skunks, even a fox once, and evidence of deer in tracks left behind. Such sightings were not unusual, even though we live in the heart of Faribault along an arterial street. But the Straight River runs only a few blocks away and our property edges Wapacuta Park atop the hill. Both make for inviting wildlife habitat. That doesn’t explain, though, why we no longer see an assortment of animals.

Deer in their natural habitat at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

Now only squirrels and rabbits scamper through the woods and yard, along with voles and the mice I never see but which occasionally find a route into the basement of our aged house. (Within the past week, though, I’ve found two dead mice in our backyard. What’s with that?) Feral cats sometimes wander our corner lot, too. I expect other animals may roam my neighborhood in the cover of dark. I’ve heard coyotes howling while attending an evening concert at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault and while visiting friends just outside of town.

The only bears I’ve seen in southern Minnesota are dead ones, including this one for sale at a seasonal sale in rural Medford several years back. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

One wild animal I haven’t seen yet is a black bear. Typically, they don’t venture this far south from their northern Minnesota habitat. But that has changed in recent years. In late April, bear sightings were reported twice in my county of Rice. The first report came at 2:30 pm on April 26 and the second on April 28 at 9:33 pm, according to a bear sighting map published by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources. Around that time Northfield police issued an alert about a bear and warned residents to keep their trash and bird feeders inside. I haven’t heard anything official about that bear since then.

Earlier, a bear and three cubs were spotted in Steele County, the county just to the south of Rice. That was at 2:12 am on March 7. A solo bear doesn’t seem nearly as frightening as a mama with babies. Just like human moms, the instinct is strong to protect one’s young.

As I studied the DNR bear reporting map, I was surprised to see so many sightings in the Twin Cities area, primarily in the north metro. Admittedly a higher density population may lead to more reports. Still. Olmsted, Mower and Winona counties to the southeast of Rice County also had numerous bear sightings. Winona County, especially, with many wooded areas and along the Mississippi River, seems a place where bears would feel right at home.

Up North at the cabin, surrounded by woods and water, a natural environment for bears. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)

When we stay at an extended family member’s lake cabin in the Brainerd lakes area of central Minnesota during the summer, we are bear aware. No leaving garbage outside, no doing anything that will draw bears in from the surrounding woods. We understand we are in their habitat.

But here in southern Minnesota, primarily among corn and soybean fields, I don’t expect bears. Yet, I suppose they didn’t expect humans to wander into their homeland either, among the lakes and forests of central and northern Minnesota.

TELL ME: What wild animals have you spotted in and around your home? I’d like to hear, whether you live in Rice County or elsewhere.

CLICK HERE to see photos of a bear that wandered onto an Up North Minnesota blogger’s porch recently.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The journey November 12, 2021

Featured in a 2016-2017 “Minnesota Disasters” exhibit at the Steele County History Center in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty, a waif of a girl and her mother wound through the packed dirt and cobblestone streets of their remote village.

Sometimes they walked side-by-side. Other times the wee girl trailed her mother. But when they reached the village square, where a raucous crowd had gathered, they clasped hands and quickened their pace. The pair wanted to avoid the angry villagers crowded around The Village Know-It-All. He stood high above the throng, encouraging them to resist all attempts by The Ministry of Health and other officials in a far away city to stop The Great Invader.

His voice boomed authority across the square. “Stand strong,” he urged. “There is no need to defend yourselves against The Great Invader. He poses no threat. Stories of his strength are greatly exaggerated. There is no need to arm yourselves with protective gear or to hide or to avoid each other. There is no need for a potion to keep you safe. That’s nonsense. Lies. No one can tell us what to do! No one!”

Masks, precautions and isolation helped protect against the flu epidemic. To the left in this photo are names of Steele County residents who died from the flu in 1918. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

DEATH & DENIAL ALL AROUND

As mother and daughter fled, reaffirming cheers created a deafening din. The two wanted nothing more than to escape the ire and untruths that raged.

Soon the pair passed The Village Center for Healing where an overflow of the sick and dying lay in cots along the street. While the ill-informed words of The Village Know-It-All droned on, echoing through the streets, the ill struggled with fits of coughing, gasping for breath. Fevers wracked their bodies and some lay stone still, perhaps already dead.

The mother shuddered in fear, clenching her daughter’s hand, distancing them as best she could along the narrow pathway.

They pressed on, passing the marketplace where vendors and villagers crowded among wagons heaped with grain, potatoes and overripe tomatoes. The mother had heard stories of villagers stealing the rotting tomatoes to lob at healers. She couldn’t understand why the healers—those who toiled endless days and nights to care for the sick—were now targeted, viewed as traitors. She could only trace that hatred to The Village Know-It-All and his followers who continued to spew misinformation about The Great Invader.

Activities that brought people together, including here in southern Minnesota, were suspended during the flu outbreak. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

INSIDE THE VILLAGE SCHOOL

Soon they reached the village school where children scratched sticks across the dirt yard. Inside, other students crammed onto benches in cramped, windowless rooms made of clay walls and dirt floors. After her daughter shared of the crowded conditions, of sick classmates and no efforts to keep The Great Invader out of school, the concerned mother kept her daughter home. She could not fathom risking her daughter’s health or life. Already a long-time elder educator had succumbed to The Great Invader and another, much younger teacher, lay gravely ill.

THE DARKNESS OF GRIEF, THE LIGHT OF HOPE

Just beyond the school on the outskirts of town, the duo passed by the graveyard. To their right, a cluster of villagers circled as the local gravedigger lowered a pine box into a dark hole. The heartbreaking wails of mourners pierced the air. The mother recognized many of the grieving for theirs was a small village. Sadness clenched her thoughts. She knew this much-loved elder had succumbed to The Great Invader, although his family and friends denied the truth. The Office of Truthfulness posted a daily record in the village square and she had seen the man’s name on that list before The Village Know-It-All ripped down the official death document.

Witnessing such grief and observing the cemetery grounds marked by countless rectangles of black, mounded dirt, the mother hurried on. Past a simple marker with a familiar name. She hoped to reach a distant, much larger, village by nightfall. There she would accept the preventative potion to protect her beloved child. Just as she had sought out for herself many months earlier. She’d waited for this day, through the grief of losing her husband to The Great Invader only weeks before the magical potion was created and distributed, then subsequently destroyed by The Village Know-It-All. She focused on the journey at hand, through her weariness and grief, determined, filled with hope.

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NOTE: In every story exists truth, this one no exception. This story about The Great Invader (COVID-19) is part of an ongoing series on the topic. If you read my previous posts, you understand that I believe science and health. I support vaccines and other measures to keep us all safe.

Minnesota is currently in a precarious place with COVID-19 cases at a 2021 high, few ICU hospital beds available and deaths increasing.

I welcome comments, but will not give voice to anti-vaccine, anti-masking, etc. viewpoints and misinformation on this, my personal blog. I moderate all comments.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Dilly Beans, pumpkins & more at Meriden roadside market October 25, 2021

Teb’s Food Stand in Meriden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

FROM 7 am – 6 pm DAILY, Louise tends a tiny produce stand along a paved road in the unincorporated northwestern Steele County settlement of Meriden.

A peek inside Teb’s roadside stand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

That’s where I met her on a recent mid-October Sunday afternoon—outside a shed the size of an outhouse. Louise lives right next door to Teb’s Food Stand, a seasonal business owned by her friend, Teborah Kath. Teb, she noted, was likely, in that moment, busy canning vegetables at her nearby country home.

Teb’s canned Cherry Tomato Mix is almost like a work of art. Beautiful. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Garden-fresh and canned vegetables define the bulk of inventory tucked inside this hand-built shed constructed of salvaged wood, galvanized metal and a modern front door.

Teb’s Dilly Beans. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)
Another jolt of color in canned peppers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)
An assortment of Teb’s homemade pickles. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Here quart and pint jars edge shelves. Green beans pack tightly inside jars labeled Dilly Beans. Rich red tomato sauce colors Teb’s salsa. Oranges and reds and yellows mix inside jars of Cherry Tomato Mix and Peppers, splashing vibrant autumn hues. For pickle lovers, Teb crafts dill and bread & butter pickles.

Teb sells more than canned and fresh produce. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

She also sells baked goods—I spotted a singular package of bread. Next to the face masks, accessories and scrubbies.

Lots of squash options. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)
Smallish pumpkins splash color into a corner. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)
Bundled corn on a shelf. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Seasonal fresh produce is sold here, too, and artfully staged. Piles of assorted squash fill metal tubs. Pumpkins hug a corner near the door. Decorative corn and gourds rest on shelves. And outside more pumpkins and a collection of mum plants define this as a seasonal mini marketplace.

Prices & mark-downs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Chatting with Louise, who stepped aside when I started taking photos, proved a delight. Considering her 11-hour days at this less-than-busy location, I asked how she passes the time. Reading? She’s not much of a reader, she said, referencing her farm upbringing and the need to stay physically active. Sometimes she leaves temporarily to do chores at home—like mowing her lawn. Or sometimes she simply has other things going on that take her away from the roadside stand.

If Louise isn’t there, just leave your payment in the locked box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

A handwritten sign next to a locked honor system box directs customers to go next door or call Louise with questions. But don’t count on her having change. She doesn’t. I purchased two squash for $4, almost $5.

Gourds for fall decor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

In addition to this small town produce stand, Teb also sells her garden and craft and baked goods at the Owatonna Farmers’ Market. Sales are good, even at the remote Meriden location, Louise noted.

The former creamery in Meriden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Meriden is one of those rural places perhaps unknown to many. Driving into town, I noticed a former creamery, the brick building in remarkable condition.

Meriden’s grain complex. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

But it is the cluster of mammoth grain bins which landmark Meriden. Homes line the road past the elevator to a dead end, an unwelcome warning sign marking the end of the street.

A slow-moving train moves through Meriden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

Back at Teb’s Food Stand, conversation halted when a train car and locomotive rolled into town, horn blaring. Soon it reversed course, crossing the tracks again, horn blaring.

Teb’s Food Stand in Meriden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2021)

By then I’d gathered enough photos and information to craft a story. To write about Lousie and Teb and this tiny produce stand edging a paved road next to a harvested bean field in Meriden, Minnesota.

NOTE: Teb’s Food Stand will close soon for the season, if it’s not already closed.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My observations about masking in rural Minnesota March 8, 2021

A sign posted at the Steele County History Center in Owatonna. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo June 2020.

TODAY MY COUNTY OF RICE reported its 92nd COVID-related death. That saddens me. I don’t know the identity of this latest individual to die from the virus. But that matters not. What matters is that, to family and friends, this is the loss of a loved one.

That’s something we all need to remember. Ninety-two represents much more than a number added to the growing statistics. It represents a life.

With that said, I need to vent. And if you’re weary of reading about anything COVID-related, then stop reading right now. But I’m frustrated, beyond frustrated.

On Saturday, Randy and I headed to two small towns south of Owatonna. Just to get out of town for a bit. We’ve previously toured both, but several years ago. Driving into rural Minnesota, parking on Main Street and then walking to see what we can find is an adventure.

WHAT MASKS?

Our day trip into these two rural Steele County communities on Saturday proved to be an adventure alright. What we found was absolutely, totally, disheartening. Compliance to Minnesota’s state mask mandate is pretty much non-existent. That left me exiting several businesses—a hardware store and boutiques—before the doors had barely closed behind me. And we’re not talking just customers here without masks. We’re talking owners and employees.

Never mind the signs posted outside these businesses stating that “masks are required.” Why bother? Oh, because the state requires posting of these signs, apparently.

FEELING DISRESPECTED

Here’s how I felt when I saw those business owners and employees without masks. I felt disrespected. I felt unsafe. I felt unwelcome. I felt frustrated. I felt angry. I felt like they didn’t really want my business. And, as much as I wanted to say something to them about my feelings, I didn’t. You never know who’s carrying a gun these days and may harm you if you speak up. So I walked out.

And the thing is, several of those small town boutiques, especially, were inviting little shops filled with merchandise that may have interested me. But I felt uncomfortable from the moment the unmasked shopkeepers greeted me and I turned to make a hasty exit.

BUSINESSES LEAD BY EXAMPLE

Interestingly enough, while Randy was shopping at a popular family-owned meat market in the town a mile off the interstate, he found full mask mandate compliance and even a plexi-glass shield separating cashiers from customers. Plus hand sanitizer. So kudos to that meat market and the local grocery store owner, who was also masked. I observed a woman I’d previously seen, unmasked at the boutique, walk into the meat market wearing a mask. Interesting, huh? A business sets the tone for customer compliance.

This masking issue isn’t a problem unique to small towns. When we returned to Faribault and stopped to pick up a few groceries, I spotted mask-less customers. They are increasing in number. The non-maskers and half-maskers. But at least I don’t see business owners and employees without masks in my community (except at the farm implement dealer). That’s the difference. In the two small towns in Steele County, business owners and employees were without masks. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. Masks are a scientifically-proven way to prevent spread of COVID-19. Why risk the health of customers? This, what I perceive as selfish and uncaring behavior, left me with a really negative perspective of these two towns. And that’s something no business, no community, needs, especially now.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

WW I from a Steele County, Minnesota, personal perspective April 16, 2019

 

YOU CAN SPEND considerable time reading all of the information included in a World War I exhibit at the Steele Country History Center in Owatonna. But I am more a Cliffs Notes reader when it comes to museum-based history. I scan to gain a general overall understanding and then choose to focus more on content that interests me most.

 

 

 

“Fight the foe with the hoe.”

 

The “Over Here, Over There: The Great War” exhibit presents Steele County’s role in WW I, both on the battlefield and at home. It’s an incredible research project. Well done. Detailed and personalized. I’ve come to expect such historical accuracy and professionalism in homegrown exhibits at this southern Minnesota museum.

 

 

As I ducked into military and medical tents, listened to the sounds of machine gun fire,

 

 

 

 

took in the wall of nearly 1,100 soldiers’ names,

 

 

admired military medals,

 

 

pulled copies of soldiers’ letters from mailboxes,

 

 

observed blacklisted books of German poetry,

 

 

considered the sacrifices of Wheatless Wednesdays and Heatless Mondays, I contemplated how this war affected every aspect of life. Not just for those military personnel in battle, but for the everyday American.

 

 

And when I read the section on immigration, I contemplated how little has changed. How the issues of yesterday—back then the hatred of Germans—today has only a new color, a new ethnicity. I read: Mass immigration created social tensions. Many native-born citizens demanded assimilation and wanted less immigration.

I don’t intend for this post to spark intense discussion on immigration issues. But the immigration section of this exhibit certainly resonated with me. I am of German heritage. If my grandparents were still living, I would question them about issues they faced because of their ethnicity.

It saddens me to think how, still today, social tensions and demands for assimilation and hostility toward immigrants remain. Strong. Often hateful. As if we didn’t all come from immigrants. As if we aren’t all human beings worthy of love and respect and a place to call home.

 

 

 

All of that aside, I’d encourage you to tour “Over Here, Over There: The Great War.” There is much to be culled from this exhibit whether you read every single word or browse through the information. In history we learn. If only we’d retain those lessons so history does not repeat itself.

 

© Copyright 2019 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Why I appreciate the arts in Minnesota May 11, 2017

A snippet of the colorful and whimsical mural created by Lynette Schmidt Yencho for the Owatonna Arts Center library. Art surrounds these children.

 

GROWING UP IN RURAL southwestern Minnesota many decades ago, my exposure to the arts was minimal. I don’t recall attending a single art show, concert or theatre production outside of a public school. If such opportunities existed, I was either unaware of them or my parents had no money for such extras.

 

During a one-day fundraiser, the Owatonna Arts Center sold original serigraphs (silkscreen prints) produced by Alice Ottinger and Jean Zamboni of OZ Press in Owatonna. The press no longer operates. If you are interested in a print, contact the art center.

 

Opportunities to develop my creative interests did not extend much beyond English, music, art and home economics classes, except for the two weeks of shop class in which I crafted a linoleum block print. I always wished I could play piano or an instrument. But there was no time or money for either. I still cannot read a single note of music.

 

Fruit bowl art in the Owatonna Arts Center library.

 

I don’t begrudge my parents for not exposing me to the arts. They had to keep the dairy and crop farm running and a family of eight fed. Finances were tight.

 

The 65th Annual Steele County Art Exhibition is currently showing at the Owatonna Arts Center. Here’s a sampling of art in that show.

 

Early on I learned that, if I wanted new clothes, I would have to sew them. This was back in the day when sewing clothing was far less expensive than buying ready-made. If I got store-bought clothes, they always came from the sales rack. I loved the sewing process—paging through thick volumes of Simplicity, Butterick and McCalls patterns; perusing bolts of fabric; and then cutting and sewing the fabric into wearable clothing.

In some small way, I created art. Not of my own design. But I could express myself through fabric selection and pattern choice.

 

Another section of the Owatonna Arts Center library mural by Lynette Schmidt Yencho. My love of reading as a child spurred my interest in writing.

 

I also created art in my writing. No teacher encouraged me, other than to praise my near-perfect penmanship, spelling and excellent English language usage skills. My writing was limited to class assignments and later writing for the high school newspaper, The Rabbit Tracks. I attended high school in Wabasso, which means “rabbit” in Ojibwe. Our mascot was a white rabbit.

 

A room of books and art…in the Owatonna Arts Center library.

 

Why do I tell you all of this? I share this because my background explains why I have such a deep appreciation for the arts. That cliché of “absence makes the heart grow fonder” can be applied to the near absence of art in my life early on.

 

Doors open into the OAC gallery housed in an historic building.

 

Today, living 120 miles to the east of my hometown, I have many opportunities to enjoy the arts locally in Faribault and neighboring Owatonna and Northfield at arts centers, public schools, colleges and more. I am grateful that the visual, literary and performing arts hold such high value in Minnesota.

 

More art in the Steele County artists’ show.

 

Some would argue that the arts are not necessary. I contend that they are. We all have within us that innate need to connect with others. The arts offer that interconnection, that weaving together of creativity, of humanity, of a desire/need to express ourselves. I am grateful to be part of the community of artists through my writing of poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction and blog posts and through my photography. I am thankful, too, for the art opportunities available to me right here in my backyard and throughout Minnesota.

 

TELL ME: Do you embrace the arts either/and or by creating or enjoying them? Please share specifics.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Artwork photographed with permission of the Owatonna Arts Center. Art is copyrighted by the artists and may not be copied and/or reproduced.

 

A final look at weddings in Steele County, Part III May 5, 2016

A groom's jacket from

A groom’s jacket from 1897.

 

WHAT ABOUT THE GROOMS? I wondered as I toured the Wedding Traditions of Steele County exhibit at the Steele County History Center in Owatonna.

 

Look at the fabulous detail on the back of this bridal gown.

Look at the fabulous detail on the back of this bridal gown.

 

Among the nearly two dozen bridal gowns displayed, I noticed only two dresses complimented by groom’s attire. What’s with that? I figured I knew the reason. Char Ost, a volunteer who helped with the project, confirmed my suspicions. The museum simply doesn’t have groom’s clothing in its collection (other than those displayed and some military uniforms) because the men continued to wear their suits after their weddings.

Makes sense.

 

The bride wore a blue grey wool suit at her 1944 wedding.

The bride wore a practical blue grey wool suit at her 1944 wedding.

 

I really enjoyed this exhibit. It gave me insights on how world events and the economy and personal wealth (or lack thereof) and tradition shaped weddings.

 

This dress had the longest train of all those on display.

This dress had the longest train of all those on display.

 

Here’s one final look at this exhibit from my perspective. You may notice things I didn’t if you were to view this display at the Steele County History Center. And that’s the beauty of a collective historical display. We each bring our own backgrounds, our own interests, our own experiences to an exhibit.

 

My favorite headpiece is this lovely hat worn by a bride in 1923.

My favorite headpiece is this lovely hat worn by a bride in 1923.

 

A crown headpiece, probably from the 1950s (I don't recall).

A crown headpiece, probably from the 1950s (I don’t recall).

 

Hair prep essentials.

Hair prep essentials.

 

Imagine fitting your feet into these tiny boots and then attempting to lace them.

Imagine stuffing your feet into these tiny boots and then attempting to lace them.

 

Vintage portraits are part of the exhibit, helping to tell the wedding story.

Vintage portraits are part of the exhibit, helping to tell the wedding story.

 

Look at the beautiful hardanger on this 1909 wedding gown.

Look at the beautiful hardanger on this 1909 wedding gown. Simply stunning in handmade simplicity.

 

FYI: To read my previous posts in this three-part series, click here. And then click here.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Details of weddings in Steele County, Part II May 4, 2016

A sampling of dresses in the exhibit.

A sampling of dresses in the Wedding Traditions of Steele County exhibit.

 

AS A PHOTOGRAPHER AND WRITER, details matter to me. Likewise, details matter to historians. We are meticulous in our documentation. We understand that details tell the complete story.

 

Details have always been important in wedding photography.

Details have always been important in wedding photography as shown in this exhibit photo.

 

Wedding gifts are listed in this book on display.

Wedding gifts are listed in this book on display.

 

That is evident in Wedding Traditions of Steele County, a recently-opened exhibit at the Steele County History Center in Owatonna. Although bridal gowns certainly are the highlight, there is so much more to be seen—in the photos, in the genealogy, in the explanations of traditions.

 

This bow sits on the shoulder/neckline of a dress.

This bow sits on the shoulder/neckline of a dress.

 

Lovely fabric rosettes adorn a 1964 bridal gown.

Lovely fabric rosettes adorn a 1964 bridal gown.

 

A sash ties in the front of a dress designed by Owatonna native Scott Nylund.

A sash ties in the front of a dress designed by Owatonna native Scott Nylund.

 

An illusion neckline drapes on a 1949 bridal gown.

An illusion neckline drapes on a 1949 bridal gown.

 

As I took in the displays, I found myself focusing on details in bridal gown design.

 

Sharon West and her wedding party party get ready for her September 1959 wedding at the United Methodist Church in Owatonna.

Sharon West and her wedding party get ready for her September 1959 wedding at the United Methodist Church in Owatonna. Although this vintage shot doesn’t look posed, it likely was.

 

And then I studied the wedding photos, noting how wedding photography has changed from mostly formal posed portraits to the journalistic style of today.

 

A name place card is among items displayed.

A name place card is among items displayed.

 

Details, details, details. In planning a wedding, they are essential. And this exhibit shows that.

FYI: Check back tomorrow for one final post in this Wedding Traditions of Steele County series. Click here to read my first post in this series.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling