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We've now got half a "fireplace cord" of wood neatly stacked on our porch for the winter; with a blizzard breathing down our necks in Buffalo, we wanted to be prepared. I always enjoy visiting the Wood Guy, with his hand-painted signs encouraging timid drivers: "Almost there!" "U R doing great!" He remembered us from last year, named each wood as he touched it, explained his mycological studies (he was doing a spore dusting on white paper), and offered us Hungarian hot peppers from his garden as we were leaving. It's the kind of local business I love to support; you leave smiling, with a trunkful of cracklin' dry wood as a bonus.