I chose the washed gravel for our driveway at the farm because it reminds me of the familiar roads that I grew up on and traveled as a boy. Pictured here, our golden retriever Murphy investigates the smells along the drive.

“I’ve come to know there’s life at both ends of that red dirt road.” — Brooks & Dunn, “Red Dirt Road”

I can’t adequately explain the look on her face when I answered her question, “Where do you live?” She was one of the few people in the receiving line for the visitation and funeral that was wearing a mask; however, after her question and my response, the look in her eyes seemed to me a mix of astonishment and disbelief.

“We live on a farm just outside of Louisville.” “Louisville?” she queried. “Yes, Louisville, Mississippi,” I replied. Again, her look expressed wonderment. It was if I had said “Sydney, Australia.”

I was no stranger in a strange land, having grown up in Union County. However, I always feel that way when I return home, not having lived there since I was a teenager and moved far, far away to Starkville for college.

After the conversation at the visitation, it struck me that there are really only two types of people in the world – those that leave home and those that stay home.

I couldn’t get the conversation off of my mind all day and that evening as I drove home, the Brooks & Dunn song “Red Dirt Road” came to mind, especially the lyric, “I’ve come to know there’s life at both ends of that red dirt road.”

Having grown up at the end of one of those dirt roads, the lyrics of the song have always spoken to me. I love a dirt road, and I love a good dirt road song. Jason Aldean’s “Dirt Road Anthem” comes to mind, especially the memory of singing it with my children on morning drives to drop them off at school.

To be clear, my sweeping generalization about the two types of people is in no way a judgment that one type is better than the other. What I mean is exactly the opposite. This world needs both, and there are good and bad people in both groups (or at least that’s been my experience).

Life is lived out and lived out well in both places. In the words of Kix and Ronnie, “there’s life at both ends.”

I grew up in the country at the end of a gravel road on the same small farm that my dad grew up on and to this day I’m still drawn to dirt roads. The people who lived along those country roads were not just my neighbors, they were my mentors. They taught me how to hunt and fish, how to plant and grow a garden, and how to fix things when they broke.

More importantly, they were my examples of what it means to be a good neighbor. No doubt, I’ve had failings along the way but not for a lack of good instruction. Many among that list I consider to be saints, people like Mrs. Idell Bridges and Mrs. Mattie Wigington.

To channel my inner Rick Bragg, my people are gravel road people. Perhaps that’s why even though I no longer live on a dirt road, I am drawn to them.

In the words of writer Jim Harrison, “Ever since my youth in northern Michigan, I’ve known that it is the gravel roads that lead to the good places.” I’ve certainly found that to be true while turkey hunting from South Dakota to Florida and fly fishing from the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Georgia to the Snake River in Idaho.

We all come from somewhere. Some of us never leave that “somewhere” and some do. At this point in my life, I’ve lived in both the city and the country. There are things that I love and appreciate about both places and chief among those “things” has always been the people.

Ultimately, my love for the outdoors has led me back to the country in this season of life — and by me, I mean we. As I drove up our driveway this afternoon, I was reminded of the fact that after we made our move to the farm one of the first things that needed work was our driveway.

Over the years, it had begun to wash and needed a little attention. I (we) chose washed gravel to cover the driveway and until this evening I never really thought about exactly why I made that choice.

Clearly, it was either due to nostalgia over my birthplace or a sense of longing for the familiarity of the road that I grew up on, rode my bike on, and learned to drive on. Seeing our gravel drive today made me smile.

One day, in another season of life, we may find ourselves once again living in the city and I’m good with that because, in the words of those cowboy poets Brooks & Dunn, “I’ve come to know that there’s life at both ends” of that road.

Until next time, here’s to the beauty of life at both ends of that “red dirt road,” and here to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.