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After our horse drawn carriage tour of Beaufort…(did you say Byoo-fert like I taught you?)

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We strolled along the harbor for a spell.

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Then headed over the bridge to explore the Sea Islands.

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Since the husband was hungry we stopped for a late lunch. Not much was open this time of year but we found a spot on the marsh called Johnson Creek Tavern.

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It was an unassuming little place, and while I don’t know exactly what I was expecting…

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It definitely wasn’t this.

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Every square inch of the place was covered in money.

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Yes, as in real U.S. currency. Ones, fives and tens. Most had names or funny sayings written on the face.

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One bad margarita….

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Some run of the mill hushpuppies with, oh the horror, margarine …

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And a terrible bowl of gumbo later, we decided we wouldn’t be eating lunch here… but we did marvel at the decor and inquire about its origins.

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It started at the bar decades ago as these things do. The first dollar spent, a big tip, a foreign bill brought back from faraway lands. But then it grew…

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And grew and grew.

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Now… they harvest the bounty every so often and donate it all to charity. Last year a veterans group was the happy recipient of over $11,000.

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And that’s money well spent.

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The flamingo agrees.

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