My hope when I ran down to take this photo Sunday afternoon was to capture the wood ducks standing on the fallen tree across the way. However, when I returned with my camera, they had departed. Nonetheless, when I looked at the photo of my failed attempt and saw the reflection of the turning leaves in the lake, nature’s artistry on full display, I realized that it was still the perfect image for this article. The outdoors is always about more than the outdoors—especially when we take the time to stop and take notice.

The weather was ideal, and the stately old oak, its trunk wrapped in roses and lush greenery for the wedding, made for the perfect altar. As I sat listening, misty-eyed, to the father uttering those familiar words, “Her mother and I,” I couldn’t help but think that the hour was drawing close at hand for me to do the same.

Choking back the tears, I stared up into the heights of the majestic oak, the overhanging limbs of which shaded the wedding party from the evening sun and formed, on that October afternoon, the perfect outdoor cathedral.

Living as we do now at the farm and away from the Queen City, I always enjoy returning to the place that, in many ways, will always be home. We began our life together in Meridian, our children were born and raised here, and, over those years, we made a lot of wonderful friendships.

Even though G and I are both in Meridian for work several days each week, special events like a wedding provide the chance to catch up with longtime friends we haven’t seen in some time, and we were both excited about the opportunity.

Nature was showing out that afternoon. The crisp, cool weather and the stunning backdrop of the Wards’ farm made for both a perfect picture of fall in Mississippi and a perfect wedding.

Because we are in the middle of wedding planning ourselves, I must say that I found myself paying attention to things I’ve never really paid attention to before, things like cakes and flower arrangements, all of which were beautiful.

However, for me, it was the backdrop of the outdoors that really stole the show and I found myself, quite often, gazing out over the beauty of the surrounding landscape as we visited with friends throughout the evening at the reception.

During one of those conversations, our friend Jay Davidson made it a point to let me know how much he enjoys my column, and something that he said, “The outdoors is always about more than the outdoors,” really resonated with me.

For a writer, or at least for this one, there is nothing better than receiving encouragement from a reader. It struck me (as well as G) that Jay’s words could serve as a mission statement for why I write this weekly column. “The outdoors is always about more than the outdoors” has been one of, if not the most, consistent themes in my writing over the years.

My hope, when I started, was that my weekly ramblings would provide more than a play-by-play of outdoor adventures. Sure, I wanted to showcase the whitetail buck or the trophy brown trout of a lifetime, and I wanted to accurately capture the challenge of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail or competing in a 24-hour endurance race.

However, for me, it was just as important to reveal the heart of the hunter and the hiker as well as the “why” behind the hunt and the hike. The outdoors has served as both classroom and teacher for me. My experiences there, both alone and with family and friends, have provided both education and instruction, both knowledge and wisdom (there’s a big difference).

These experiences have helped shape me into who I am today as a person as well as a hunter, fisherman, hiker and lover of the outdoors. How I think about hunting, fishing, hiking and backpacking in my 50s is vastly different than how I thought about those activities in my 20s.

This change comes from both my growth and maturation (the knowledge vs. wisdom that I mentioned earlier) as well as in response to what is all too often portrayed on social media and outdoors media.

What does that mean? Well, as it relates to hunting and fishing, my mindset has changed from a dominion focus to a stewardship focus. We take what we need from our land in terms of game and fish (and only what we need), and we do that with respect, understanding and thankfulness. Ultimately, we work to ensure that what we pass along to the next generation will be better than we found it.

For me, the outdoors and writing about it have been my therapy. I was reminded of this Saturday while reading the “Mountain Gazette.” My brother-in-law gifted me a copy of the latest issue of the large-format outdoor culture magazine, and I simply love it.

In the editor’s letter “Hereyago,” Mike Rogge writes, “I am not goal-oriented outdoors. I go outside because it’s where I feel most connected to those I love and have loved. I am haunted by those who are no longer here because they’ve never, ever truly left. Their legacies carry on.”

Those words brought tears to my eyes. They reminded me of the turkey season of 2020, my first without Pop, how I cried for the first time walking out of the woods with a turkey over my shoulder and without him. We moved to the farm for the “connection” that Rogge writes about, and I feel it with every wood duck squeal drifting up from the lake at dusk or dawn.

Yes, Jay, “the outdoors is always about more than the outdoors,” my friend. Hopefully I can capture that from time to time here. Until next time, here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.