Foxfire Heritage Center

High Falls and Indian Springs State Parks are two of the prettiest parks we do. High Falls is on the Towaliga River (some of you may recall, Towaliga is Creek Indian for “roasted scalp,” so we know it hasn’t always been an inviting place for tourists). I hiked down to the falls this year. It’s pretty pedestrian compared to Pacific Northwest waterfalls but a big attraction here in middle Georgia. The Bradford ornamental pear trees flowered while we were here, as did the white and pink dogwood, the cherry trees and the beautiful Redbud tree. My feeder has been monopolized by the Chipping Sparrow.

We’ve had heavy rains impact the local flower festivals. And it was breaking news when Atlanta’s rocker got voted off American Idol. This area south of Atlanta is very small-town America. There are many, many small counties and it seems each county has its own phone book and newspaper. The newspapers feature local birthdays, lots of rocking chair philosophy columns, and the obituaries can run a quarter page (understandably, not free of charge). There are LittleÂ
Miss beauty pageants, lots of dance studios, and portrait philosophy is big. You can buy matching Mother and Daughter outfits at Belk’s.

“Miss Sam” and “Mister Dave” are terms of respect we answer to routinely.  We also get a lot of terms of endearment. Everybody gets a lot of terms of endearment. Yesterday a man in the supermarket said to me, “C’mon, Baiby, step carful, naow, thar’s sugah or sumpin slicky ohn tha floah.” This is a white guy talking (a black man would not talk to me, let alone call me Baiby). He was very nice and helpful. Southern speech patterns include words and terms that we would find somewhat intimate, but they use them indiscriminately.

As you get north of Atlanta, the land begins to roll and feel like foothills to something. We drove up to Rabun County, close to the South Carolina border, home of the Foxfire Project. I’ve read the Foxfire stories since I was involved with folklore at the University of Oregon in 1966, and have always wanted to come here. Started as a writing project for 9th and 10th graders at Rabun Gap-Nacoochee School, the stories collected from old people have preserved the history of these southern Appalachia people. With proceeds from the first Foxfire book, the project bought land on a mountain top here and now have a heritage center and museum. The mountains here are not mountains to us; the highest state park in Georgia is here, at less than 3700 feet. Still, if steepness is a factor, Foxfire Heritage Center sits very high up.

Rabun County is a different culture from middle Georgia. Only 160 miles north of Atlanta, it doesn’t feel southern. Southern is genteel; Rabun County is hardscrabble. Even the southern drawl is different. In middle Georgia “ought to” is “ah-ta;” in Rabun County it’s “orta.” Mount Airy and Maude Frickert are right down the road.

Tramping up and down through the Foxfire center, we are struck by how hard the life here had to be, even 50 years ago. There are 22 buildings, most of them moved and reconstructed as student projects, and they are filled with implements and artifacts from 100 years ago. The Foxfire resident weaver was dying fiber in pots on the back stoop. This land is not easy to farm; the hills are too steep. The trees are thick and skinny, the forest floor loamy with old leaves. A purple “Wake Robin” trillium was everywhere, along with a red trumpet honeysuckle I’ve never seen before.

In my search for a dollmaker, I met a woman who deals with her bipolar disease through art therapy. She paints on “Genuine, recycled, sun-dried Georgia cardboard,” and makes “Hill-billy collector plates.” (Paper plates, spray painted, with magazine pictures pasted in the center.)

It was the greatest trip. It was a great way to leave Georgia. We are on our way now to our next job in Amarillo, Texas. Tonight finds us in eastern Alabama. We love the time changes going West; it gives us a good nap.

Love to all,