I seem to have a path worn to Clonmel Friary in recent years. This is the church where I typically get masses celebrated for the dead and bereaved.

The typical pattern, however, was punctured in late May. A neighbour’s newborn baby on our now very aging estate meant that I dipped into the special occasions set of cards. It was a delightful change.

Parking the religious aspect of my regular trips to Clonmel Friary, this routine is an example of the sense of obligation that I feel towards members of my community.

Attachment to native place and a sense of community run deep in the souls of Irish people. Both, however, are two sides of the same coin.

A deep love of one’s native place, which is usually unarticulated, is the catalyst for community cohesion. Space and community therefore coincide and overlap.

What are the sources of this attachment to place and sense of community for me personally? First, the decisive source in my case is nature and the outdoors.

I am fortunate to have been raised in Ardfinnan, Co Tipperary, which provided me with an embarrassment of outdoor riches where my dreamy and inquisitive spirit was amply satisfied.

I experienced a near total outdoor childhood, adolescence and young adulthood by today’s standards.

Trout fishing with my brother Paky, pheasant hunting with my father Patrick, picking blackberries, harvesting mushrooms, summers on a relative’s farm, bicycling for hours on end, making camps and long walks with my terriers were integral parts of growing up here.

These formative experiences created both an irrevocably strong attachment to my native place and a deep connection to the natural environment in its multiple and complex guises.

The second source is that, on the whole, I like the sense of closeness, familiarity and continuity that comes with living in a rural village. Of course, it not always a panacea.

Nevertheless, in my experience, there are major benefits for individuals and groups living in these communities. I will focus on just three of these benefits in this article.

Times of grief

First, it has been well recorded how Irish rural communities mobilise at times of death and grieving.

This is something I suspect that many readers of the Irish Farmers Journal take for granted. It is simply a social fact of rural life that we rally when our neigbours pass away.

Readers who have lived abroad, particularly in large cities, know that our approach is by no means the norm elsewhere.

I hosted an American professor many years ago. His visit to our village coincided with a neighbour’s funeral.

I still recall him leaning on the cemetery wall and shedding tears so moved was he by the entire occasion. The major turnout in the graveyard he considered incredible.

However, there is a flip side. In small-scale rural communities, I think the passing of our relatives, neighbours and friends is qualitatively different.

Since relationships tend to be proximate, long-term, deep and frequently intergenerational, death is also a very proximate experience.

Memories of times past have to be confronted daily by the bereaved within the community.

Respect for the elderly

A second benefit is that, generally speaking, deference and respect is granted to senior citizens.

As someone with very elderly parents, I can say this is another fact of community life in my locality.

It is reassuring to observe how often people inquire after my father Patrick (93) and my mother Mary (87).

I have become accustomed to the question: “How are your mother and your father keeping?” Because they have both undergone periods of hospitalisation in recent years, neighbours are probably even more alert than previously.

Of course, neither is it uncommon for get well cards and mass bouquets to flood into homes when a member of the community, young or old, becomes ill or receives some unwelcome medical news.

A welcome relief

A third benefit is banter and slagging, which is another aspect of Irish social life that we take for granted.

These exchanges can provide us with welcome relief from daily obligations and the heavier aspects of public commentary such as Brexit and CAP. And if we possess any notions of grandeur, they crumble quickly under the weight of banter.

Some years ago, Charlie Bird reflecting on his time as Washington correspondent discovered that he was more of a home bird than a migratory one.

Listening to Bird, he obviously found his period in the States somewhat solitary and very lonely.

Like Charlie Bird, periods in the United States made me appreciate and miss my native place more.

This is why attachment to our native place is an emotional experience. Therefore, I can only call one place home: Ardfinnan, Co Tipperary. Put simply, it is where my soul resides.

Dr Anthony O'Halloran who hails from Ardfinnan, Co Tipperary, is an educator, political scientist and author. He has been a visiting scholar at California State University, Southern Illinois University and Champlain College, Vermont.