To paraphrase John-Boy Walton, things are changing on the mountain.

Your Scribe's camp is not actually on a mountain.

If anything, it is on a hillock in the foothills that lead to some real mountains, those in Rangely and Carrabassett Valley.

But I can relate to John-Boy's (a TV character played by Richard Thomas) moments of looking back, and realizing his small community was constantly changing.

On my tiny dirt road, construction is under way.

At the top of the hill, one family converted from a singlewide trailer to a double-wide.

Next to them, a new four-season home is going in with beautiful views of the town below and the Blue Mountains beyond.

Another new home went in on the road last fall, and in addition to that, my neighbor's multiple building "complex" is on the market for $299,999.

(An aside: The sellers were clever enough to keep the price away from the mental barrier of $300,000).

On the other end of my road, about a mile away through farmers fields, are five houses that have been built in the last decade.

Several houses are six-bedroom retreats designed by architects.

Also, there are smaller homes with more property. These people have horses!

(Aside2: Walton's Mountain was fictionally set in Virginia, which is real horse country).

When I bought my land three decades ago, there was only one residence on the road - that of the mailman.

Now there are eight near me, and that doesn't count the big spenders at the other end.

No doubt more will be coming.

The camp is in New Sharon, which is a small river town/farming commnity between Augusta and Farmington.

It is not fashionable but people are finding it.

Despite the "incursion," though, I am still happy there.

We have the cabin, which is a work in progress.

And we have the (Sandy) River, which has been flowing for centuries.

Still, sometimes I revert to John-Boy mode.

I miss the way it used to be.

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