Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Wandering through a Faribault flower garden in autumn October 14, 2025

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Flowers blooming a few weeks ago in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

IN THIS FLEETING TIME before winter arrives, I find myself drawn to end-of-the-season blooms. And plenty remain, clinging to summer past, attaching to autumn present, but some already ceding to the inevitable cold and snow yet to come.

A mass of brown-eyed (I think) susans. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Even as days grow shorter and nightfall presses dark upon the land, these flowers remain. And I delight in them wherever they stand, bend into the wind, catch the light of the morning and evening sun.

The roses are still blooming. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Most surprising, perhaps, are the roses that linger. I dip my nose close, expecting the heady scent of perfume, only to be disappointed. They smell ever so faint, a scent barely noticeable.

When I took this photo in late September, Monarchs flitted among zinnias. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Zinnias flash color, a beacon for monarchs.

Stunning sedum, absolutely beautiful in the evening light. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

Sedum and seed heads and sunny yellow flowers all cozy together, some spent, some still determined to survive as the season shifts toward winter.

Paver pathways weave through the gardens which include benches, a water feature, rock snakes and more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

I feel this sense of urgency to focus my eyes on flowers, to imprint upon my memory their glorious beauty. And so I wander among the blooms and dying blooms in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens in Faribault.

Photographed up close or at a distance, these flowers are lovely in the evening light of autumn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I love this oasis on the Rice County Fairgrounds next to the historical society. It offers a peaceful respite just off heavily-trafficked Second Avenue where vehicles rush by, their drivers seemingly unaware of the nearby gardens.

The garden includes two rock snakes, this flower stone among the many forming the serpent. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

But I long ago discovered this spot. Perfect for a picnic. Perfect for wandering. Perfect for photographing flowers. Perfect for reflecting and learning and enjoying. I’m grateful for every volunteer who lovingly tends this garden so I can come here. Sit. Walk. Photograph. Snapshot the scene for future reference.

A grass stem glows in the light of sunset. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

When winter comes with its wind and deep-freeze cold and snow, I will remember the pink roses, the bold brown-eyed susans, the grass glowing in the sunlight.

A coneflower seed head. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)

And when winter drags on, I will remember this place and how, when spring arrives, the perennials will resurrect and pop through the earth. I will remember, too, how seeds sown in the soil will sprout and push green shoots through the earth to leaf and blossom and bring me summer joy.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Give me a daisy a day, or maybe a zinnia August 22, 2024

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A patch of daisies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

RECENTLY, MY SISTER-IN-LAW Rena asked me to name my favorite flower. I immediately responded, “Daisy.” But that’s not really true, I realized the more I considered the flowers I especially like.

A time existed when my response to Rena was accurate. For a long time, daisies assuredly were my personal pick for most beloved floral. Daisies, like me, are simple, uncomplicated, down-to-earth. There’s nothing pretentious about a daisy with its circle of white petals and yellow center.

Daisies, too, were the flower of my teen years. The age of flower children and peace symbols and rebellion. Daisies, prolific, strong, reseeding on their own, spreading and blanketing the landscape.

At my 1982 wedding, daisies graced bouquets and corsages. “I’ll give you a daisy a day,” wrote songwriter Jud Strunk in the 1973 hit, “Daisy a Day.” A love story in lyrics if I’ve ever heard one.

I still like daisies a lot. The way they bend in the wind. The way they remind me of my youth. And young love.

Zinnias sourced at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

But, after pondering Rena’s question, I would answer differently. Zinnias. Yes, vivid, bold zinnias are my favorite flower today. Like daisies, they trace to my youth. Mom seeded rows of zinnias in her vegetable garden. They jolted color into the greenery, later adding color to our farmhouse in bouquets gathered.

Zinnias and cosmos can be easily grown by direct seeding into the soil. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Zinnias grow easily from seed. They are hardy and prolific and colorful, coming in varying sizes from small to “giant.” They make excellent, long-lasting cut flowers.

My friend Al, left, sells flowers and produce at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I transferred the zinnia bouquet from Solo cup to vase at home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)
Al and Char’s zinnias up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

As I write, a bouquet of zinnias purchased at the Faribault Farmers’ Market graces a vintage chest of drawers in my living room. My friend Al grew them. His wife, Char, artistically arranged the stems of red, pink, orange and yellow with one green-tinted flower tossed in the colorful mix.

Daisies thrive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Randy bought them for me. For no reason. I love when he does that—spur of the moment gives me flowers. Just because. I was chatting with our friend Duane while Randy paid for sweetcorn purchased from Al along with those unexpected zinnias arranged in a red Solo cup. It was a moment when I felt loved, so loved, as if Randy had given me my daisy a day.

TELL ME: What’s your favorite flower and why?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The poetic joy of a butterfly August 17, 2022

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An Eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly atop a zinnia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

EVERY TIME I SPOT A BUTTERFLY, joy surges through me. There’s something about the flitting flight of a butterfly that captivates me.

But it’s more than that. I appreciate how these insects appear so carefree, as if their very existence is simply to bring beauty and joy into the world. And maybe it is.

The butterfly perches among my favorite garden flowers, zinnias. My mom planted zinnia seeds when I was growing up on the farm. Zinnias are easy to grow from seed, are prolific, hardy and colorful. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

In recent days, I’ve observed two swallowtail butterflies, one black, the other yellow, among the phlox growing wild in my flowerbeds. And some 10 days ago I photographed an Eastern tiger swallowtail atop a zinnia at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Garden in Faribault.

That well-tended garden has become a new favorite oasis for me within the city limits. On the Sunday afternoon I visited the garden, I found friends Paula and Ed already there, resting on a bench. Paula was involved early on with development of this garden. She no longer is, but remains an active gardener. Paula was the one who spotted the swallowtail among the zinnias.

Per her direction, I headed to the zinnia patch to photograph the yellow swallowtail with wings outlined in black, splotches of blue and orange adding to the coloring.

Black-bordered wings are nearly wide open atop a zinnia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

The swallowtail perched, unhurried atop the yellow-centered pink flower. I had plenty of time to snap multiple frames. That’s often not the case with butterflies.

That butterflies survive a four-stage life cycle from egg to larva (caterpillar) to pupa (chrysalis) to adult butterfly impresses me. At any one stage, a predator could end their lives. But yet, here was this beautiful butterfly among the zinnias. Like the final verse in a lovely summer poem.

TELL ME: What do you appreciate about butterflies? Do you have a favorite?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Photo pops of pink & orange September 21, 2012

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Zinnias

PINK AND ORANGE. Not until recent years would I have mixed those colors or considered them an appropriate combination.

Cosmos

Are you kidding? Pink and orange. Together.

Zinnia

But now I revel in the unleashing of creativity in color pairings, a loosening of the choking tie of conservatism and matchy-match this and that.

Zinnia

It’s freeing, isn’t it, to realize everything—from our homes to our gardens, from our paintings to our photos—doesn’t need to be Martha Stewart-like perfect.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The promise of spring in a seed packet March 20, 2011

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A few of the flower seed packets I have stashed away for the upcoming gardening season.

WHEN MY FRIEND MANDY offered me a pick of flower seed packets recently, I snatched up the cosmos. Next to zinnias, they are my favorite flower to grow from seed.

The simple sight of photographed blooms on a seed package lifted my spirits on a night when snow was falling. Again.

It has been an incredibly long winter here in Minnesota with more snow than I can recall in years. Thus, the possibility of spring seems as unlikely as state high school basketball tournaments without a blizzard.

But for now, a gardener can dream of cupping tiny seeds in her palm and scattering them upon soil that holds the promise of summer. She can dream of snipping stems, of gathering colorful blooms into beautiful, bountiful bouquets.

I WROTE THIS POST 10 days ago and simply didn’t get around to publishing it until today, the first day of spring. This morning, while in church, I heard the boom of thunder. It is raining here, with a brisk wind.

Snow mountains are melting. Wide swatches of muddied grass lie exposed to the elements, a welcome sight after this long and weary winter. But then again, snow is forecast for later this week, as tips of tulip plants push through the soil. This is Minnesota, after all, and we are never quite certain when spring will officially arrive. We mark the season by the arrival of warmth and bared grass and emerging flowers, not by a day on the calendar.

 

A bouquet of wildflowers plucked from a public garden (not by me) in Fulda, Minnesota, last summer.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling