The Beauty of a Dry Dirt Road
There’s just something poetic about a dirt road—another aspect of the South that’s fading away
A story from our Winter 2024 issue by
The creeks dribble. Shorelines drop. Leaves crunch. Colors fade. Birds queue up around my fountains. The lack of rain robbed us of a lot of fall color. I drove through the countryside this week. Brown leaves everywhere. It’s so dry folks are spitting cotton as one old saying goes. Dry as a bone goes another.
Dry weather makes me think of dirt roads. As I made my way along South Carolina Highway 34 this week, I passed a dirt road that had been paved. I felt a pang, a twinge of regret. It’s an exaggeration to say dirt roads are an endangered species, but I believe they represent another aspect of the South that’s fading away. Seems we intend to pave them all.
There’s just something poetic about a dirt road, something beautiful about a dry dirt road. I don’t recall reading a description of a paved road in literature, though I’m sure they exist. I came across a book review of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. He didn’t title it The Dirt …