The Bend We Keep — A Bluegrass Song for the Two Miles Behind the Blue Sign
Every October the mountains put on their finest clothes, and every October some of the fine clothes end up in the ditch. Folks come from three states away to see the gold — they just don't always carry the gold out with 'em.
This one's for the families whose names are on those blue Adopt-a-Highway signs. There's a crew near me — the Harlan outfit — that walks their two miles every Sunday morning of peak color, thermos and orange bags, giving up their best fishing hours to keep a view honest for strangers. Had a cup sail out a window and land right at a friend's boot last fall. Didn't cuss. Picked it up. That's the whole song right there.
The charts this week say Ella Langley's still sitting tall at number one, and a new one took the airplay crown — fine and good. But the song I keep coming back to is the one nobody's counting: two miles of ditch and a family name. Anybody can love a view; it takes a neighbor to love a ditch.
Put the windows down on the byway this weekend. Wave at whoever's out there with the orange bags. They're keeping your drive beautiful.
Lyrics
[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Sunday morning, peak October, the mountain wears its copper coat
Leaf-peeper traffic starts to gather where the switchback bends below
Blue sign by the guardrail reads Harlan, mile one through two
That name is mine; I set it straight like a brand I mean to keep true
My best fishing hours are ticking in a coffee thermos by my knee
While orange mesh bags fill up with what folks toss out the window free
A late-model truck pulls over; phones come up to frame the gold
Cattle watch from past the fence while cans and wrappers take the road
[Chorus]
This is the bend we keep, these two miles by the fence
Not just for how the maples turn, or what the mountains lend
We come with sacks and steady hands, we come because we're kin
The bend we keep, the bend we keep — this bend is home to kin
[Verse 2]
Then a paper cup comes sailing, lands beside my boot
My jaw sets hard; those wasted hours feel plain as gravel in my shoe
One grandson looks up at me, waiting for the words I've got
I could curse the passing tourists, make a lesson out of what they're not
Instead I hand him one orange sack and say, "Let's give this road a hand
That cup's not theirs to leave here now; it's ours to lift from land"
Nobody scolds the tourists; we pick it up and carry on
His small hand holds the mesh bag open as the Sunday sun comes on
[Chorus]
This is the bend we keep, these two miles by the fence
Not just for how the maples turn, or what the mountains lend
We come with sacks and steady hands, we come because we're kin
The bend we keep, the bend we keep — this bend is home to kin
[Banjo Break]
[Verse 3]
He asks why our name's on that blue sign, so I show him every word
Anybody can love a view; it takes a neighbor to love a ditch
I say it plain, he nods once, and gathers up another bottle
His sister walks beside him, thermos passing hand to hand
My fishing hour can wait awhile; I'm right where I want to stand
[Final Chorus]
This is the bend we keep, these two miles by the fence
The view takes care of being grand; that isn't ours to tend
We come with sacks and steady hands, with one another in
The bend we keep, the bend we keep — this bend is home to kin
[Outro]
Sunday morning, family name, blue sign against the gold
Two miles, orange mesh bags, and the stories that we hold
The grands walk on ahead of me, slow down the golden row
The bend we keep, the bend we keep — Sunday after Sunday, home
Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio