It just goes to show that there are interesting folks everywhere...

On Saturday, Mom suggested we drive up to the mountains and see "the firefly guy." Don Lewis, a potter with a studio and gallery nestled in the woods off a gravel road in Cleveland, South Carolina, lives on a 120+ acre parcel that he has cultivated into a native plant sanctuary over the years. A mountain stream courses through his property, just steps away from one of his kilns. He showed us 8.5 x 11" photos of how hot the door of his fiber kiln gets--reddish-orange like a burning coal--but was clearly delighted when he told us that it takes five minutes for a newspaper stuck into the door to light up and begin to smolder. Don's a mild-mannered kind of guy, who talks about anything in exactly the same calm tone; he reproached an old hound dog going crazy in his crate with an "Oh, now now" that made me smile, it was so genuine and untroubled. He went on to talk to us as if we were people from the neighborhood--if where he lives can be called that. "Well, you know I found Sweetie," he said, gesturing to one of the stray dogs he's rescued along River Road, "and I talked with the Hills who live across the street, you know, and we put up 'Found Dog' signs...." Nobody comes to pick the dogs up, of course--they bring them to River Road to dump them--but Don doesn't mind much; he lets them all take up residence, each with its own little role to play in the daily rhythm of his life. He's called "the firefly guy" because his land, according to him, "supports one of the largest known concentrations of a curious small firefly called the Blue Ghost, which puts on a magic light show in the early Spring." Mom went to the light show this past year and certifies that it was magical, so magical that it attracted what she estimated to be a hundred or so cars pulling into Don's snaky, long driveway. Don's got some photos up on his website, he says, but he had "four or five of the best videographers out here, and they couldn't capture a thing." Don's got plenty to be proud of, but he's obviously happy about the fact that he's deeded his land to a conservation group, which will either inherit it upon his death or "have to buy it if I live a real long time." You can become a Friend of the Firefly Forest with a donation of any amount, and Don's pretty serious about letting visitors know about the forest even more than showing off his pottery.

Heading back to Spartanburg, we pulled off Highway 11 to pick up some BBQ at Big Daddy Hawg's. Big Daddy's is off the beaten path, for sure, but it had a respectably sized crowd that afternoon and some of the customers looked like regulars; in fact, a couple looked like they could compete with Big Daddy Hawg himself, who was manning the kitchen. We ordered a rack of ribs, some "tater salad," some cole slaw, and some sweet tea, and while we waited I noticed what bigger businesses might call their mission statement but what Big Daddy Hawg's simply announces as "We want you to know." Big Daddy Hawg wants his customers to know that they'll get good food at a fair price every time and that they'll always be closed on Sunday so that employees (most of whom are family, I think) can worship... and, by the way, they hope to see you in church.

The firefly guy and Big Daddy Hawg... some folks might call them "local color," but both are men who know where they're from, who know what they want to do, and just do it.