Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A tractor, pumpkins & a conversation after sunset October 1, 2025

Parked at Thomas Gardens in Faribault, a late 1970s or early 1980s International tractor centers an autumn photo op scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

ON THE EVENING of the autumn equinox, I headed to Faribault’s east side, crossing the viaduct over the Straight River to Thomas Gardens along St. Paul Road. The business was closed upon my arrival, which mattered not to me. I was here to photograph an International 274 tractor and pumpkins during “the golden hour.” That’s an hour before sunset or an hour after sunrise when the warm, soft glow of the setting or rising sun proves particularly lovely for taking photos.

The setting sun shines through an opening in the treeline as I shot this image. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

As I framed the tractor, staged as a photo prop in an autumn scene of straw bales, varied colorful pumpkins and corn shocks, I noticed the golden orb of the sun peeking through the treeline across the street. I remained ever cognizant of the light, diminishing with each snap of the shutter button.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I felt giddy as I photographed first that tractor and then masses of pumpkins outside the building. Colors popped in the perfect light. Multi-hued pumpkins. Deep orange ones. White ones. Yellow ones. Pumpkins with warty bumps, others smooth. Sooooo many pumpkins scattered across the street-side yard.

Thomas Gardens is housed in this building along St. Paul Road on Faribault’s east side. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I remember when the previous owners of 50-plus years piled pumpkins onto flatbed trailers parked inside and outside Twiehoff Gardens & Nursery. Matt and Stefanie Thomas bought the business in 2019. Matt grew up on a dairy farm near Dundas, which pleases me given I was also raised on a dairy farm. Like me, he understands hard work. On his business website, Thomas writes about teaching his three kids the value of hard work, teamwork and family values. This seems a good place to do that.

Mums for sale outside the greenhouses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Here the Thomas family grows and sells garden-fresh vegetables, flowers and plants, plus markets honey, maple syrup, Christmas trees and more from their pole shed style building, greenhouses and the yard where I roamed with my 35mm Canon EOS 60D camera.

Mostly potted mums, but a few other flowers and plants, are for sale in autumn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

When I finished photographing the tractor and all those pumpkins, I moved onto the flowers, mostly mums. The flower of fall. Single colors and multi colors in pots. Oranges, yellows, rose, even white.

A pumpkin tops the tractor against a corn shock with a tint of pink in the sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I aimed my camera lens down for a closeup photo of a massive striped pumpkin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Pumpkins set next to a tractor tire pop color in the grass. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I remained caught up in my photography until I glanced back at the tractor and the treeline. In that moment I realized I really wanted to watch the sun set at City View Park, just down the road a bit. It’s a beautiful site overlooking Faribault next to a city water tower and across the street from Trump’s Apple Orchard. We occasionally picnick here and watch the Fourth of July fireworks at this hilltop location.

Just after sunset at City View Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

But Randy and I arrived too late. I could see, as we pulled into the small parking lot, that the orange ball of the sun had already dropped leaving a skyline tinged with pink. Disappointment coursed through me.

Yet, others didn’t miss the sunset. Three teenage boys sat on a park bench facing the city overlook. As I walked toward them, I wondered why they were here, what they might be doing. Yes, I admit I thought they might be up to no good. I was wrong. They were here watching and photographing the sunset with their smartphones. I asked to see their pictures and they pulled out their phones and showed me the beauty I missed by my delayed arrival.

I took the opportunity then to praise them—to tell them how wonderful it was to see them outdoors, appreciating the sunset. Moments like this, generational interactions like this, conversations like this, matter. These youth understood the value of pausing to sit and watch the sun set across their city on the first evening of autumn. And I recognized the value of acknowledging that.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Winter’s artistic beauty in southern Minnesota February 7, 2022

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Sunset as seen on the hillside behind my Faribault home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

WINTER HOLDS STARK BEAUTY not seen in any other season. Sometimes seeing that takes extra effort, though, when thoughts center on Minnesota’s brutal cold and snow and ice.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Yet, many days—often in the morning and as the day closes—winter paints loveliness into the landscape. Upon the sky.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

I live in the valley with a view to the east. When the sun rises, hues of golden yellow and rosy pink sometimes brush upon the heavens. Beautiful to behold. Occasionally Randy will text after arriving at work and alert me to the morning’s artistic arrival. I appreciate his thoughtfulness.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

In late afternoon, pressing toward evening when I am preparing supper, I find myself drawn to the south kitchen window. There I shift my eyes slightly right to the tree-covered hillside behind our home. There I behold bare black branches against a backdrop pink sky. The loveliness of it all, the contrast of dark and light, delights me. Oh, how lovely the dusk of day.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Yes, even in the deep of winter, nature shows her creative side. Coloring the sky. Reminding me that in every single day beauty exists, even when it sometimes seems elusive.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

TELL ME: What brings beauty into your natural world in February?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The poetry of trees at sunset April 14, 2020

 

 

SUNSET. I FIND IT profoundly beautiful. Poetically beautiful.

 

 

Last week while walking a tree-lined trail in Faribault’s North Alexander Park, I stopped to appreciate the sunset through the trees.

 

 

I aimed my camera lens skyward, toward treetops. Branches, like lines drawn in wide chisel and felt tip markers, traced the sky. Sharp against backdrop canvases of blue, pink and orange. Lovely. The literary and visual work of an artist.

 

 

Scenes like this are so ordinary, yet extraordinary. Nature, when viewed in pause mode, seems even more stunning these days.

 

 

When I lift my camera and look through a viewfinder to frame a photo, I see so much. I notice details. Shapes. Colors. Patterns. Light.

 

 

It’s a process similar to writing poetry. I immerse myself in creating something beautiful. Poetry requires sparse, well-chosen words. Photography requires that, too, but in a visual way.

 

 

In this unprecedented time of social distancing, isolation and concern about COVID-19, I feel especially grateful for a quiet place to walk, to appreciate the art of nature and then create my own art via photography.

 

 

April is National Poetry Month. Celebrate by reading a poem, writing a poem or finding a poem in nature, like I did at North Alexander Park on a cold April evening with strong winds gusting from the northwest, sometimes shaking my camera lens.

© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Winter photo poetry February 18, 2019

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A WINTER LANDSCAPE IN RURAL Minnesota can, at first glance, seem visually unappealing. White upon white upon white.

But then a moment happens. A curtain opens in the mind to reveal a scene that holds spectacular beauty.

Stubble pokes through snowy fields. A farm site stands isolated, yet strong, in all that winter vastness. And then, a layer of golden light slips between land and clouds.

The light. The textures. The immensity of the scene. All collide before my eyes, to create a winter photo poem. Beautiful in its complexity. Beautiful in its simplicity. Winter.

 

I photographed this scene along Interstate 35 somewhere north of Faribault around sunset Saturday.

© Copyright 2019 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Angels we have seen on high December 15, 2017

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YEARS HAVE PASSED since I thought about this observation: The angels are baking cookies.

 

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2014.

 

But when a family member recently noticed the gold and pink tinge of the evening sky, she suggested the cherubs were busy baking Christmas cookies.

Unless you’re a Helbling family member, you’ve likely never heard this comparison of the sunset, or sunrise, to angelic bakers. It’s an interpretation attributed to my late mother-in-law, passed on to her children and then to her grandchildren.

Many times while they were growing up, my three kids directed me to look outside, to see the fiery sky, to see the angels baking cookies. It is a sweet part of family lore passed from one generation to the next.

This time of year, traditions and stories seem more important than ever. What are some of your family stories and/or traditions? I’d like to hear.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, for the poetic beauty of sunrises & sunsets in Minnesota May 1, 2017

 

SOMETIMES I WONDER if nature can offer anything more beautiful than a sunrise or a sunset. But then I have not seen the mountains of the West or the deserts of the Southwest or the ocean other than the Atlantic once.

 

 

Still, the sunrise and sunset are universal. We all see the same sun, just in different places.

 

 

Farm fields and a wide sky backdropped my youthful vision of the sun. To this day, for me, there’s nothing quite like a prairie sunset, the blazing ball of the sun overwhelming the southwestern Minnesota landscape. Those childhood memories leave me grieving for the sunsets I’ve missed while living in a valley within a city for 33 years. Hillside and trees filter and block the sinking sun.

 

 

Still, living in Faribault, a southeastern Minnesota community situated along rivers and lake, gives me an opportunity to view the sunset waterside. And there is beauty in that, too, in the reflections that dance poetry across water backdropped by a day shifting from twilight to dusk to dark.

 

 

FYI: These images were taken in mid-March from the shores of Wells Lake at King Mill Park along the Cannon River in Faribault. Click here to see additional photos of the above sunset as I entered Faribault along Highway 60 from the east.

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Writing poetry as the sun rises

My fingertips linger within a mere whisper of the keyboard
as I pause, half-thought, words interrupted mid-phrase,
to tilt my head toward the window and the sunrise
spreading gold and pink across the sky like jam on toast.

In that morning moment, I desire nothing more
than to dip my fingers into the jar of dawn,
to sample her sweetness, to taste of her earthy goodness,
to delight in sunshine and rain and succulent fruit plucked from vines.

But language beckons me back to the keyboard,
to dip my fingers into the jar of words,
to choose and shape and share the poetry that rises within me,
in rhythm and verse upon the breaking day.

 

FYI: My poem about the sunrise published in Poetic Strokes, A Regional Anthology of Poetry From Southeastern Minnesota, 2012.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Artistry in a Minnesota sunset April 24, 2017

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The sun begins to set as we head west on Minnesota State Highway 60 toward Kenyon.

 

SUNRISE, SUNSET…so begin lyrics from a song in “Fiddler on the Roof.” I’ve always loved that musical and the song about the seasons of life. How quickly we progress from the sunrise of life to the sunset.

The setting and rising of the sun, while symbolic of life, are of themselves worthy of appreciation. There’s such beauty in the hues that break across the sky, weaving with clouds and sometimes water to produce spectacular visuals. Works of art, really.

 

A line of clouds divided the sky as we continued west.

 

On an early spring Saturday afternoon, returning from a day trip to La Crosse, Wisconsin, my husband and I aimed toward the setting sun, the sky layered in darkness and light.

 

Between Kenyon and Faribault, the sun silhouetted a farm site.

 

As we drove along Minnesota State Highway 60 west to Faribault from Kenyon, the sun slipped closer to the earth, blazing like a brilliant spotlight in our eyes.

 

 

 

 

Then, entering Faribault on the east side, cresting the Highway 60 hill before dipping toward the river valley, I saw before me hues of orange and yellow brushed across the sky like a watercolor painting. It was one of those moments of nearly indescribable, spectacular beauty. A gift at the end of the day.

Welcome home.

FYI: Please check back for photos of the sun setting over the Cannon River by the King Mill Dam. We headed there to watch the final moments of the sunset.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A Minnesota prairie sunset May 5, 2014

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MY HUSBAND SCURRIED back to my mother’s house, told me to grab my camera and hurry.

And hasten we did.  Between her house and the neighbors, along the grass alley a block. Turn west at my uncle and aunt’s house. Fast-walk another block.

 

Prairie sunset 52

 

Focus on the setting sun, the sky colored in layered shades of orange and yellow, pink and purple.

 

Prairie sunset 54

 

Oh, how I love the sunset on my beloved prairie in my hometown of Vesta, Minnesota.

 

Prairie sunset 55

 

I can never get enough of it.

 

Prairie sunset 56

 

This moment when day transitions into evening with beauty unequal on a land that stretches flat into forever.

Spectacular sunset, like poetry sweeping across the prairie sky.

Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

Reflections on a prairie sunset June 30, 2013

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Sunset on the prairie

WE STOOD ALONG THE EDGE of the gravel road Saturday evening, my 13-year-old nephew and I, mesmerized by the glorious golden sun pinking the sky above and below a layer of blue grey.

I raised my camera. He lifted his phone. We snapped several photos, compared, wished for better zooms to photograph the prairie sky north of Lamberton in southwestern Minnesota.

Sunset on the prairie 2

“It’s what I miss most about this place, the sunrise and the sunset,” I said.

“And the stars,” Stephen added.

Sun and stars.

He was right. The stars, too.

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sunday sunset February 24, 2013

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ON THE WAY HOME from Montgomery, Minnesota, not Alabama, late this afternoon, the sun danced with the clouds:

Sunset - Copy

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling