Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Kudos to the smart science kids out there February 8, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:27 AM
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SEARCH THE RECESSES of my home and you won’t find a single sports trophy, medal or ribbon. We are not athletes.

But you will find honors for academic achievements.

During elementary school, my second daughter consistently placed in the region’s Lutheran schools spelling competition, bringing home trophies and ribbons. In 2006, she graduated from high school at the top of her class. (My mom and a niece also graduated at the tops of their classes and I graduated second.)

Now my 17-year-old high school senior has won two medals for his scientific and mathematical skills and knowledge. This past weekend Caleb and his Faribault High School Science Team teammate, Luke, earned first place in the Regional Finals Science Olympiad competition in Rochester with their gravity vehicle.

They built a vehicle and ramp and then, using physics skills, calculated time, distance and speed to race and stop their car at a specific point. They came within about an inch of the target. I won’t attempt to explain the details of how they accomplished this because, well, I don’t understand it. Suffice to say, they did everything right to win the contest.

A wheel on the winning car, as it was being built. I would show you the car, except I did not get a good shot of it and now the car is at school and Caleb would not like that I want to photograph it. Suffice to say the car is basically four pieces of wood joined into a rectangular shape. Caleb and Luke wrote their names on the car. That's it. Why make it flashy? Flashy doesn't count, my son says. Gotta love that attitude.

Caleb, along with a different teammate, Travis, also placed third in an astronomy competition.

Faribault students Anna and Anwyn earned first place regional honors in “Write It Do It.” Sara and Riley placed second and Anwyn and Tanner, fourth, in “Forestry.” And a fourth place finish also went to Nathaniel and Max in the “Fermi Questions” competition. (Don’t even ask about “Fermi.” I have no clue; I never claimed I was smart in science.)

Faribault High’s two science teams finished fifth and eighth at region, qualifying both teams for state competition. However, rules allow only one team from each school to compete at state.

FHS science teacher Jason Boggs says this is the first time since he’s been co-coaching the science teams that both teams have technically qualified for state.

Caleb and 14 other FHS students will compete at state on March 3 at the University of St. Thomas.

So there you have it—my little plug today for all those smart kids out there who excel in academics but seldom receive the recognition they deserve.

Be proud.

Your academic successes will take you far in life.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What’s your line? January 31, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:53 AM
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WHAT LINES DEFINE your world? Horizontal or vertical?

Perhaps you’ve never considered that question. But ponder that for a minute.

Where do you live? Where do you work? What lines define your environment?

Do you live in the city, the country or a small town? Do you live on the prairie, in the mountains or somewhere in between?

My world has always been horizontal. I prefer it that way—flat and unbroken by vertical obstacles. Towering buildings overwhelm me; make me feel small, visually overpowered and uncomfortable.

Can you understand that? Perhaps if you grew up or live in a rural area, you do.

The sun sets on my native southwestern Minnesota prairie in this December 2010 image.

I traveled to Chicago once during college, and to New York. While touring the garment district in the Big Apple, I was nearly flattened by a vendor pushing a rack of clothing as I paused on the sidewalk to gawk at the skyscrapers. In Chicago, I struggled with sleeping in a hotel that stretched too far into the sky.

A view of the Minneapolis skyline from Interstate 35.

I can’t recall the last time I visited downtown Minneapolis, but I’m certain it’s been decades. I’ve never been to any other big cities and I have no desire to travel to them.

Some of you will say I am missing out on culture and shopping and so much more by staying out of the city. You would be right.

But to counter that, I will tell you many a big city resident fails to leave the confines of the city to explore the small towns and rural areas that offer grassroots culture and shopping and much, much more.

I am not trying to pit city against country, horizontal against vertical, here. Rather, I’d simply like you to think about your world from a visual perspective. Then, tell me, what lines define your landscape? Vertical or horizontal, or a mixture of both?

Even in rural Minnesota, vertical lines occasionally break the horizon, like this scene at Christensen Farms along U.S. Highway 14 east of Sleepy Eye in southwestern Minnesota.

The strong horizontal lines of railroad tracks and trains cross the flat prairie landscape of southwestern Minnesota. I shot this along U.S. Highway 14 between Springfield and Sleepy Eye as snow fell late on a March morning in 2011.

Railroad tracks and diggers slice precise horizontal lines across the landscape in this March 2011 image shot while traveling U.S. Highway 14 between Springfield and Sleepy Eye, in my native southwestern Minnesota.

I live in Faribault, an hour's drive south of Minneapolis along Interstate 35. While I certainly don't consider Faribault, with a population of around 22,000 to be a small town, it's definitely not urban. I shot this pastoral scene last spring several miles west of town near Roberds Lake.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When your day fails to go as planned January 27, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:30 AM
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I RECENTLY READ somewhere—and I read a lot—if you want to make God laugh, plan your day.

Well, God must have been rolling on the floor, laughing until he cried and his belly hurt on Thursday because I had one of those days. You know, the kind that veers completely from your intended course of action.

My main goal for the day was to finish pulling together financial information for the professional who completes our taxes. Now those of you who know me, either personally or via this blog, realize how much I detest numbers. Math whiz I am not. And to add to the stress this year, I once again need to file a Free Application for Federal Student Aid after a two-year respite. I despise forms, especially when numbers comprise the bulk of the required information.

I never got to the numbers on Thursday.

Rather, I spent most of my morning researching information for a document my husband needs for a church meeting on Sunday. I’m happy to help him, but I never thought the project would consume hours of my time.

I expect God was getting a chuckle out of that, his subtle reminder that perhaps I should give just a little more of my time to him.

The rest of the day slipped away in work-related issues with precious little time for writing.

Have you noticed the repeat of the word “time” in all three of the above paragraphs? Why am I so obsessed with time?

Despite my day failing to go as planned, I knew I had a delightful evening ahead. My husband and I had been planning for weeks to attend a presentation by Minnesota photographer Doug Ohman who has published a series of “Minnesota Byways” books.

But then, 50 minutes before Ohman’s talk, my husband called. The car had broken down on his way home from work and he needed a ride and a tow.

Long story short, we missed Ohman’s 6 p.m.presentation. (Who chooses these times anyway?)

After a late supper, kitchen clean-up and e-mail catch-up, I finally kicked back in the recliner to finish the final chapters in Still Standing: The Story of SSG John Kriesel by John Kriesel as told to Jim Kosmo.

About then, God must have been muttering to himself, “Well, she thinks she’s had a bad day…”

He was right, of course. Put in the perspective of all the problems and tragedies a day can bring, my Thursday rated as just fine, thank you. My legs weren’t blown off in a roadside blast. I wasn’t fighting to live. None of my friends had been killed in Iraq.

Minnesota National Guardsman Kriesel had dealt with all of that and managed to overcome, to be positive, to move forward with his life. His story is about as inspiring as any you’ll ever read.

And then, when I finished that book Thursday evening, I picked up Conversations with the Land by Jim VanDerPol, a Chippewa County farmer and writer. I’m only a few essays into his book, but already I appreciate the approach he takes to the land and to life in general. He pauses to notice, to savor, to value his land and his role as tender of the earth. His writing resonates with me, reconnects me to the prairie of my youth, the land that still influences my writing.

And so my Thursday ended and a new day has begun with a sunrise so splendid that my husband called to tell me about it, as he often does when the morning sky is especially beautiful.

The remnants of today's sunrise as viewed from my office window.

Several weeks ago, I started penning this poem after pausing to watch the sunrise:

Jam on toast

My fingertips lift within a mere whisper of the keyboard

as I halt, half-thought, words interrupted mid-sentence,

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 want 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.

#

PERHAPS TODAY should be the day I finish this poem.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A Minnesota prairie native discovers a ship docked in the Wisconsin woods January 26, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:48 AM
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I GREW UP on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, a mostly flat land vertically-interrupted only by small-town grain elevators and water towers, by silos and groves of trees hugging farm sites.

I never felt hemmed in. How could I feel confined under an endless sky in a land that stretches into forever, nearly unbroken before your eyes?

Perhaps that will help you understand why I sometimes struggle with trees. I’m not talking a tree here, a tree there, but trees packed so tight that they become a forest. Dense. Black. Blocking views. I need to, have to, see the land spreading wide before me if I’m exposed for too long to miles of thick woods.

Likewise, I prefer my land flat.

All of that said, time and age and exposure to geography beyond the prairie have resolved some of those space and landscape issues for me. I can, within limits, appreciate terrain that rolls and rises, trees that clump into more than a shelter belt around a farmhouse.

I can appreciate, too, geological anomalies like Ship Rock, a natural formation jutting out of seemingly nowhere from the trees that crowd State Highway 21 in Adams County near Coloma in central Wisconsin.

Ship Rock is located next to Wisconsin Highway 21 in the central part of the state.

Whenever I pass by Ship Rock, which has been numerous times since my second daughter moved to Appleton, Wisconsin, in December 2010, I am awestruck by this isolated pinnacle of Cambrian sandstone. Finally, this past summer, my husband, teenaged son and I stopped to climb around the base of the rock cropping and to photograph it (me mostly photographing rather than climbing).

Ship Rock rises from the flat landscape, a surprise in the Wisconsin woods.

My husband walks across the rocks below the looming Ship Rock.

If you can ignore the distracting graffiti, then you can appreciate the nuances of the mottled stone, the ferns that tuck into crevices, the surprise of this Ship Rock docked in the most unexpected of places. The rock formation truly does resemble a ship.

I am surprised by the ferns that grow in the tight spaces between rocks.

Grass sweeps between rocks in this August 2011 image taken at Ship Rock.

A month ago while traveling past Ship Rock, I snapped a photo. The ship seemed forlorn and exposed among the deciduous trees stripped of their summer greenery. Yet she also appeared threatening, a looming presence rising dark and foreboding above the land awash in snow.

I could appreciate her, even if she wasn’t a grain elevator or a water tower, a silo or a cluster of trees breaking a prairie vista.

Ship Rock, photographed from the passenger window of our van at highway speeds in December.

CLICK HERE for more information about Adams County, Wisconsin.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts from a Minnesotan now that winter has arrived January 24, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:54 AM
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Even I'll admit that snow brings a certain beauty to the landscape, including this view of my neighbor's yard.

AS UN-MINNESOTAN as this may sound, I don’t particularly like winter. I’d grown rather fond of the unusual 50-degree temps earlier this month and a landscape free of snow.

Yet I knew better than to get all smug about the weather, realizing that, at any time, the proverbial shoe (or boot) would drop.

No fashion boots for me...I wear practical Northwest Territory boots.

It did, with temperatures plummeting to below and barely above zero followed by two measurable snowfalls within the past several days.

Snow means work, aka shoveling snow.

Snow means walking with trepidation.

I wasn’t always fearful of walking across snowy or icy sidewalks, driveways or parking lots. But then 3 ½ years ago I had total right hip replacement surgery because of severe osteoarthritis.

I would like to keep that expensive ceramic implant intact for another 17 years. So I tread with caution, eyes locked on whatever slick surface I must traverse. I will myself not to fall. Thus far, the strategy has worked to keep me upright and out of the hospital.

Despite my winter worries, I still shovel snow. However, I questioned the sanity of that effort on Monday as I crunched my way across the ice-glazed, snowy yard toward the sidewalk encrusted in snow and ice.

The car my son drives, encased in ice on Monday. Freezing rain fell before the snow. He walked to school.

I didn’t exactly rush my way through snow removal. More like half-skated.

By the time I finished clearing the sidewalk and the end of the driveway, I truly wanted to give up and leave the rest for the husband or the 17-year-old. But winter wasn’t about to defeat me.

I may not like her, but I sure as heck won’t allow her to get the best of me.

A city of Faribault snow plow spreads salt and sand onto the street by my house on Monday.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Travel Wisconsin: Atypical tourist photos from Appleton January 19, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:43 AM
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SAY “WISCONSIN,” and what pops into your thoughts?

I would expect these top two answers: cheese and the Green Bay Packers

Wisconsinites, am I right?

Every time I travel to the Dairyland State, which has been often since my second daughter moved to Appleton a year ago, I find myself drawn to that which distinguishes Wisconsin from my home state of Minnesota.

With my camera, I try to catch the snippets of buildings and life and sites and scenes that the typical tourist might never think to photograph. Often I capture these images in an instant, from the car window passing by or walking along a sidewalk. I have an moment to snap the shutter and then the scene vanishes.

Let me show you those snippet photos taken during a New Year’s weekend trip to Appleton, an hour’s drive from Lake Michigan in central Wisconsin.

Next time you’re in Wisconsin, or anywhere for that matter (even in your own community), I’d encourage you to not only look at what surrounds you, but to truly see.  Let me repeat that word. See.

Notice the signage, the curve of a street, the contrast of a building against sky, the shape of a window, the quirky and the unusual. Take in the details. Then, and only then, will you truly see.

I was more than a bit lost in Appleton as our daughter chauffeured my husband and me around town. I spotted this building along the railroad tracks and photographed it because, well, my eyes were drawn to it. Appleton residents, what is housed in this building?

My favorite quirky discovery of the weekend, this signage near none other than...see the next photo.

Lamers Dairy, along the Milky Way, sells its own bottled milk, cheese, wine and other food and merchandise. Visitors can watch milk being bottled. Unfortunately, this does not occur on weekends, when we were visiting.

Walking in historic downtown Appleton, I saw not a cheesehead, but this banana, who later posed for a photo. However, I prefer the action photo to the posed. She was promoting the Tropical Smoothie Cafe. My daughter was hoping we would also spot a gorilla pushing balloons along another Appleton street. But, alas, the gorilla was nowhere to be seen.

Inside artsy Studio 213, I laughed at this humorous tee. I grew up on a dairy farm. What can I say? I appreciate barn humor.

Over at the Downtown Appleton Farm Market in City Center, a vendor marketed bison meat. Now I'm wondering, is that bison head real and how do you cart that around?

When I shop at farmers' markets, I pay attention to details like merchandise display. Jan Jourdan's vintage marketing theme drew me right over to sample her Jan's Fabulicious Cookies. I asked to try the gingersnaps. Ooops. Not gingersnaps, but molasses cookies. Thick and chewy, they were as advertised, "fabulicious." Love those aprons, too. If my daughter hadn't just given me one for Christmas...

TO SEE MORE PHOTOS from Appleton, click here to view a previous blog post from the historic downtown.

Click here to see photos I shot along Wisconsin Highway 21 in a post titled “Preserving central Wisconsin’s rural heritage via on-the-road photography.”

In case you missed the link earlier in the story, click here for more info about downtown Appleton.

Click here to learn more about the Downtown Appleton Indoor Winter Farm Market.

Click here to learn about Lamers Dairy.

Click here to read about Studio 213 and here to check out the Tropical Smoothie Cafe.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

I refuse to be bullied January 14, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:20 PM
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I’VE DEBATED, for several days, whether to write this post.

And I’ve decided, yes, I will just speak what’s on my mind because I refuse to be bullied, belittled or called names.

My mother taught me to nice, to be kind. If I disagree with someone, I should be respectful in voicing my opinion. I’ve tried to follow those guiding principles throughout my life, although at times I fail.

I was bullied as a child and pre-teen. As an adult, I don’t have to accept such behavior.

That brings me to two comments posted on my January 11 post, “Meet 10 Minnesota bloggers, a contest winner & more.” Click here to read that story.

Of all the posts I’ve written, I never imagined this piece would come under attack.

Here is the single sentence that prompted two readers to voice their opinions in a manner that I consider disrespectful:

I wanted to highlight bloggers without an agenda and who would fit our more conservative outstate readership.

I’ve since deleted that sentence because I understand how, if you’re a “liberal” purposely seeking out the word “conservative” and you take something out of context or shape it to your thinking, this could be totally misconstrued.

My use of the words “agenda” and “conservative” had nothing to do with political leanings of either the highlighted bloggers, the magazine or its readership.

Any writer understands that when you write for a publication, you need to know that publication and its content. That was the point I was attempting to make and, I admit, I could have written it more clearly, explained it better.

Yet, the rabid reaction from these two commenters caught me off guard.

Here are their separate responses, first from commenter #4:

Nice to know that “conservative” isn’t an agenda. Dogwhistle much? Or just believe in pandering to stereotypes of rural Minnesota?

And here are the words of commenter #5:

Wow. I mean, read that sentence slowly. Maybe aloud. Could you see what you did there? I know my 7th grade grammar teacher would have you up at the blackboard for that.

(Readers, please do not click on these commenters’ links; google them if you must.)

In my opinion, they could have made their points in a manner that was less mean-spirited and not so condescending.

I was tempted for a minute to censor their words or fire back with an equally vicious response. It was a fleeting thought. I gave them their voice, responded as kindly as I could and tried to let it go.

I don’t expect that everyone will always agree with me or like what I write. And, yes, I understand that sometimes something I compose may be taken the wrong way.

Then I thought back to all those years when I was bullied and came home from school crying.

This pair could not have known how their words triggered those childhood memories of bullying and name-calling and of a math teacher who called students to the blackboard only to belittle them. To this day, I do not like math.

And, to this day I do not like to be bullied, belittled or called names.

As an adult, I don’t have to accept such behavior, especially on this blog.

So you see, dear readers, something good has come from the negativity expressed earlier this week in my comments section. I have the opportunity to open up a discussion on the topic of bullying.

LET ME HEAR from you.

Were you bullied as a child or teen? If so, how did you and/or the adults in your life handle this and how were you impacted, short-term and long-term?

Have you been bullied as an adult? How have you handled such behavior?

What can be done to stop bullying?

#

NOW, JUST TO BALANCE this all out and show you how words can be used in a positive manner, I refer you to Bob Collins of Minnesota Public Radio. Click here and scroll to # 5 in the 5×8 section of his News Cut column to read his comments about Minnesota Prairie Roots and the Minnesota blogger story.

Then, click here to check out Iron Range writer, radio producer and college instructor Aaron J. Brown’s equally kind words regarding my work and the blogger feature.

I have great respect for these two writers. Enough said.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Same day, same highway 50 miles apart: Plane lands, cattle truck crashes January 7, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 3:57 PM
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KNOWN AS A NOTORIOUSLY DANGEROUS roadway along some stretches, U.S. Highway 14 in southern Minnesota Thursday grabbed headlines again with two separate crashes about 50 miles and 12 hours apart. One involved a cattle truck, the other a small plane.

This time though, only cattle, not people, died.

I know this road, The Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Highway, well as it’s the route my family travels back to my native southwestern Minnesota.

I shot this image along U.S. Highway 14 east of Lamberton several weeks ago.

Around midnight Thursday, January 5, a semi truck pulling a cattle trailer left Highway 14 just east of the Nicollet County Road 37 intersection near New Ulm and rolled onto its side in the ditch, according to news reports. The driver suffered only minor injuries, but some of the 35 cattle were killed in the crash or had to be euthanized.

About 50 miles west and some 12 hours earlier, Highway 14 east of Revere in Redwood County became a runway for a Lakeville pilot who was forced to make an emergency landing, according to news sources. He managed to land his plane on the road before it went into a ditch and flipped.

As in the cattle truck accident, the pilot escaped with only minor injuries.

When I first heard and read about these accidents, I was simply thankful that the truck driver and pilot survived. I was thankful, too, that others traveling along Highway 14 were not involved.

Then I started wondering exactly how many vehicles travel along these sections of Highway 14 each day and how those counts and the timing and locations of the incidents affected the outcomes.

According to the most recent statistics I could find from the Minnesota Department of Transportation’s Office of Transportation Data and Analysis, the 2009 annual average daily traffic count was 8,000 for the Highway 14 area where the cattle truck crashed.

See how the outcome could have been so much different had this occurred during peak daylight travel hours? Anyone who’s driven Highway 14 between New Ulm and Mankato realizes just how unsafe this narrow, arterial road is with its heavy traffic, county and other roads intersecting the highway and few opportunities to safely pass.

Fortunately, 50 miles west, the traffic count drops considerably as the population decreases and the land stretches flat and wide into acres of fields punctuated by farm sites and small towns.

Near Revere, where the pilot landed his plane on Highway 14 before noon on Thursday, MnDOT lists the 2007 annual average daily traffic count as 1,550. Odds of putting a plane down without hitting a vehicle were definitely in the pilot’s favor.

And given trees are sparse on the prairie, luck was in the aviator’s favor there, too.

Fortunately, the emergency landing also occurred outside of Revere, in the 3.5 miles between the town of 100 residents and Highwater Ethanol and not too dangerously close to either. The ethanol plant, of which my middle brother is the CEO/GM, is situated along Highway 14 between the crash site and Lamberton.

Viewing a 1994 plat of the area, I spotted a landing strip just to the north and east of Revere. I could not verify whether that still exists and it really doesn’t matter given the pilot claims he had to make a snap decision to put his failing aircraft down Thursday on Highway 14 at a speed of 90 mph.

I’m thankful that on January 5, 2012, U.S. Highway 14 in southern Minnesota didn’t rack up more fatal statistics. It’s already had too many.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The generous gift of a St. Paul woman to a rural Minnesota food shelf January 6, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:38 PM
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TODAY I’M TREATING YOU to a gem of a story published yesterday in a weekly community newspaper, The Gaylord Hub.

It’s an inspiring and uplifting story of a St. Paul woman who purposely sought out a rural food shelf as the recipient of a Christmas gift. And a mighty generous one from someone with apparently no connection to Gaylord, a southern Minnesota Sibley County seat town of around 2,300.

Hub officer manager and bookkeeper Elizabeth Reishus shares the tale of generosity in her January 5 “The Word From High Avenue” column as shared with her by Yvonne O’Brien of Sibley County Food Share, Inc.

Writes Reishus:

A woman from St. Paul had called Second Harvest food bank to ask for a list of rural food shelves. Second Harvest was not able to give her that information, but did give her O’Brien’s phone number.

The woman then called O’Brien and asked questions about the food shelf. What percent of families served were minorities? Is the need higher in the summer? What kinds of resources does your food shelf have to rely on for donations?

O’Brien explained that about 40 percent of clients at the food shelf are people of a minority. The need for help increases in the summer when seasonal workers arrive to work at area farms and other agriculture-related jobs. She also explained that unlike bigger towns and cities, we do not have the big chain stores such as Wal-Mart, Target, Cub or Cash Wise that donate food. The Sibley County Food Shelf is maintained through the generosity of area people and some grant money, O’Brien explained.

The St. Paul woman said she would like to send a donation to the food shelf. O’Brien gave the woman the mailing address for donations and expected to receive a check for about $50. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the donation check was for 10 times that amount. The generous mystery woman gave $500 to the Sibley County Food Shelf.

How’s that for Minnesota Nice and for thinking beyond the metro?

Consider the effort this mystery woman took to find just the right place for her $500 donation. What motivated her to seek out a rural food shelf, to ask those specific questions about minorities, to give that much money to a single food shelf?

I’d never really thought, prior to reading Reishus’ column, how small-town food banks typically don’t receive food donations from chain stores, relying instead primarily on the generosity of locals.

So thank you to that woman from St. Paul for thinking beyond the metro area of the need in rural Minnesota and for blessing Sibley County Food Share with $500.

She offers us much food for thought.

FOR MORE INFORMATION about Sibley County Food Share, click here.

 

Preserving central Wisconsin’s rural heritage via on-the-road photography January 5, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:33 AM
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Each time I see this Wisconsin barn, I think of the biblical story of Joseph's coat of many colors.

ON OUR FOURTH TRIP through central Wisconsin in a year along the same route—Interstate 90 to Interstate 94 in Tomah then on Wisconsin Highway 21 to Oshkosh, up U.S. Highway 41 to Appleton—I’m getting to know the Dairyland state from her western to near eastern borders.

She’s a beautiful state of rolling hills, flat marsh land, stands of packed pencil-thin pines, too many towns whose names end in “ville,” infinite piles of stacked firewood, cranberry bogs and potato patches, muskrat mounds, cheese stores, Packers fans, small-town bars and barns—oh, the barns that I love to photograph.

One of my favorite barns along Wisconsin Highway 21 because of the stone walls.

As I’ve done on every 600-mile round trip to and from our second daughter’s Appleton home, I capture the scenery via on-the-road photography, meaning I photograph through the passenger side window or windshield of our vehicle at highway speeds. Sometimes I manage to snap a well-composed image. Other times I fail to lift my camera, compose and click in time and miss the photo op.

Journey after journey, I find my eyes drawn to the many old barns that are so much a part of Wisconsin’s landscape and heritage. And mine. Only in Minnesota.

I’ve seen every type of barn, from the well-preserved to the crumbling, pieced-together-with-tin structure. I know that any barn, once left to fall into a rotting pile of boards, will never be replaced by an equally grand structure.

A pieced together weathered barn blends into the gray landscape on a dreary winter afternoon.

A once grand barn shows the first signs of falling into disrepair.

The occasional white barn pops up among the characteristically red barns.

Majestic barns, rising sturdy and proud above the land, are seldom crafted anymore. Instead, mundane metal rectangles sprawl, without any character or beauty, across the landscape. Such structures hold no artistic, but only practical, value on the farm.

Via my barn photography, I am documenting for future generations a way of life—the family farm—which, in many places, has already vanished.

If my photos inspire you to appreciate barns and rural life and the land and our agricultural heritage and the men and women who work the soil and their importance in this great country of ours, then I will have passed along to you something of great worth.

An especially picturesque farm site along Wisconsin Highway 21.

The muted blue-grey of this old farmhouse blends seamlessly with the dreamy landscape on a snowy New Year's Day afternoon in central Wisconsin.

Contrasted against snow, red barns are particularly visually appealing.

NOTE: The above photos were taken on December 30, 2011, and January 1, 2012, along Wisconsin Highway 21 in the central part of the state primarily between Wautoma and Oshkosh.

I have applied a canvas style editing technique to most of the images, creating a quality that is more painting than photo.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling