It has been awhile since I last posted anything here. Too long I think.

It had been almost nine months since we last visited the hills and worn-down old mountains of northern Georgia but we did indeed visit again. We just recently returned. This time I did not have any time to write as I had done during our previous visit.

It seems that little changes in the mountains, in the hills. The people are still very friendly and life seems taken a bit more in stride with emphasis on things most of us may have forgotten long ago. The clock ticks yet things remain the same.

The river flows. And we flowed with it.

The day passed along and we passed along with it, with family and good times.

The mountain roads went up and down and left and right with sometimes stomach-shifting severity and always at risk of life and limb to those with too little respect.

The sun rose and it set and the breezes blew the morning fogs away and off the hillsides. All was still yet still somehow passed along.

You see, even when things seem to stay the same they do, for sure, change. You just need to be paying attention.

The hotel we stayed at was the same but is now owned by a different corporation. Same though different.

My relatives are the same but have aged and acquired new problems and ailments. Same and definitely different.

The trees were all still there but this time greener and taller. Mostly the same but still slightly different.

We drove the same vehicle but my kids were older and bigger and my wife and I were older and probably smaller, and definitely heavier. Not really the same at all but similar and part of life.

We shopped at the same mall which I am sure had new stores and some older ones changed or simply gone. Likely some of the people may even have been those there on our prior visit but who knows? It all seemed very much the same and familiar to me at least but probably different to others with more exposure.

It is probable also that the hills and mountains themselves were no longer as tall as they were with material washing off the top and depositing itself at the bottom in a double-whammy hit on height. But who would really be able to tell that at first or even any further glance? Not me.

Same but different.

This time we did not meet the mountain man but he was there. We drove buy his small, old house and back-shack several times and saw his truck but not the man himself. Probably out fishing again.

If we had stopped by we would not have seen his mother again. We learned that she had passed sometime in the past nine months. May she rest in peace and may the mountain man survive with all of his independence intact.

And, sadly also, we did not see Lester. We heard that he is now so old and feeble that while he still makes his way up the hill for some free treats he has to be retrieved at the end of the day by his owners. He cannot make the return journey back down any longer.

To the mountain man and his mother and also to Lester. Thanks for showing us a side of life not often considered and thanks for staying the same long enough for us to meet you all.

It is sad that these things have now changed but change they must. Even in the hills and mountains of northern Georgia.