It’s Not My Mountain Anymore is written from the beautiful Appalachian Mountains in North Georgia and from the land of the phenomenal Foxfire Books and from the heart of a former Foxfire student.
“A novel full of passion, soul and powerful writings…” Madison Hinshaw, Appalachian Voice
“What a VOICE!..” Andrea Robinson, Random House Editor
It’s a dose of pure reality, capturing the rhythm of the mountains, our people and our traditions with resonant s
ensitivity.
As I look over rugged mountain ranges I don’t wonder what inspired our ancestors to brave unfamiliar territory and many dangers to get here.
They sought a place to live where they could do as they darn well pleased. Solitude is a small price to pay for independence and freedom.
The book is about a region called home-The Appalachian Mountains, located in North Georgia.
There is a fascination here that holds rich and poor, strong and weak captive, not with chains and fetters, but by an almost touchable solace that affords an escape for many urban Americans.
- O! Appalachia
Appalachia is both real and magical, beautiful and devastated, exalted and exploited. It’s filled with million-dollar houses atop high summits and tiny shacks in deep hollers.
Appalachia is rich in resources, but none greater than its humble people. The book profiles those who experience “these mountains have a’hold on us.” Our hearts are knitted to the mountains with golden threads. We are in fact, married to the land with deep devotion, appreciation, conservation, pride, dignity, warmth and joy.
The seed for this book was planted nearly 40 years ago after I encountered a miracle in education in our tiny mountain high school. Rabun Gap Nacoochee School was founded in 1903 by the county’s first college graduate, Andrew Richie. He had a passion to educate mountain children. In 1966, the now famous Foxfire Books was founded here by a green-horn teacher and a room full of rebellious teenagers.
The name Foxfire was taken from a bio-luminescent fungi (foxfire), growing on decaying wood along damp creek banks. The organism sheds a magnificent glow in the dark. It is a divine gift, shining the way on dark paths for weary travelers and straying teenage minds like me.
“It’s Not My Mountain Anymore” offers first-hand accounts of a life changing experience in education. Foxfire awakened me to the absolute necessity of preserving our dying heritage. My involvement became a needful addiction with the inability to break away from Foxfire’s purpose. I was blessed to be a small flame in a huge national phenomenom fire.
Over the years Foxfire has over nine-million books in print. That’s not to bad for a bunch of high school students with hillbilly wrote all over us. Today’s Foxfire students continue a forty-five year tradition as a chief recorder of Appalachian heritage. If you’re headed near northeast Georgia, plan to visit The Foxfire Museum & Heritage Center. Step back in time when life was slower and simpler. Another unique quality is all the age old buildings were re-constructed by the prideful hands of high school students.
- www.foxfire.org
”PEOPLE OF THE OTHER SIDE”
It was said, my folks lived so far back in the woods that we pumped in the sunshine and pumped out the moonshine. Half that is true.
- All That Remains
According to some old timers, the name “Appalachia” means, “People of the Other Side.” It defines and describes my people well, because in large part we remain separated from urban America by endless mountain ranges, damnable stereotypes, fierce independence and unique folklore.
- Hidden America
There was a people who lived by faith between the sun and the soil.
”Afternoons and weekends until dark, Dad was at the barn, or his hands were wrapped in plough lines, guiding harnessed mules through unbroken fields. Resounding plough commands of “GEE!” (left turn) and HAW! (right turn) echoed about the home place as he turned new gound into straight rows behind him.
Dad never saw mere dirt, but envisioned planted seeds and tender plants kissed by morning dew. Faith in a full harvest kept him stepping. I ain’t no preacher, but the Apostle Paul said, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Dad saw bushels of shelled corn drying in hampers for seed and bread. He saw winter feed stored among ribbons of cobwebs, hanging through barn cracks and well fed stock roaming the fields. Dad believed faith without works is dead. He often said, “The Lord provides, but He will find me hoeing around stalks of corn as I pray for help.”
Each new row looked like the earth opening its mouth to produce life. Corn was life. Soft silver winds brought scents of pennyroyal and mint from the creek bank, awakening the sap within him. When he stopped for a dipper of cool water, he often picked dandelion blooms that dotted the landscape like golden jewels of Eden. They looked nice on Mama’s table.”
I wrote It’s Not My Mountain Anymore to share with you a vanished lifestyle filled with cherished memories of my childhood. Memories move us like gentle breezes thur silver maple leaves because they are who we are. Chiefly I wrote it to place in the young hands of our grandson that he might know the ways of our ancestors. I hope it will be a guide and a picture of the things that really matter. It is a message that points the way.
Grand Wisdom & Humor: “Boy ‘tiz about croppin’ time. Never plant onions above the ‘tator patch. They’ll get in the eyes and wash the crop away. Always plant peppers when you’re good and mad at somebody, if you want them to be HOT!”…Great Uncle Ellis
- Grandson Sterling & Ellis
Read the influences and transitions of change I’ve observed over the past fifty years, and the challenge of economic conditions. The book also looks at the tremendous social upheavals that have brought land development and the heart-wrenching issues of drug abuse and family breakdown into collision with old standards of character and moral responsibility right here in the community where I was born.
- Old homesteads are all but vanished
The mountains I once knew are not the same. Inevitable changes to both the landscape and its inhabitants clash harshly with times past.
Vast mountain ranges that natives had called our own to roam, explore, hunt and fish began to shrink by outside ownership that established boundaries with No Trespassing signs and security gates. Gated resorts are offensive to Appalachian people. They send a clear message that newcomers want nothing to do with mountain neighbors. We know what boldly painted “Exclusive” signs mean.
May our many visitors become a bit more sensitive to the mountains and our culture as a result of reading the book. I am grateful to profile several transplants who love the mountains as much as natives and contribute so much to communities and preservation.
It’s Not My Mountain Anymore is jaunty, cocky, funny, loving and moving. It is a voice of courage.
I’m told the book is balanced and satisfying, and written in an absolutely authentic mountain voice that merges with mountain heritage to create magic that will moisten eyes and bring laughter.
I’d be honored to share my journey filled with appreciation, love, humor and loss with you. Thank you in advance for your support.
Orders are welcome. 
Order online:
Personal Autographed copies available by mail:
Name:____________________________
Address:___________________________
City/State/Zip:______________________
Mail check or money order payable to Barbara Woodall in the amount of $25.00 (includes shipping/handling & GA sales tax to:
It is a dream to give back to those who preserve Appalachian heritage. Twenty-percent of snail mail orders are donated to preservation organizations like Foxfire and Catch the Spirit of Appalachia.
It’s Not My Mountain Anymore
1410 Crusher Run
Rabun Gap, GA 30568
Thank you!
I can’t wait! I just ordered my copy and paid through paypal! Website it great!
Barbara, I can’t wait till they come in! Proud for you, and looking forward to hearing your WHOLE story! God Bless!
Excited…looking forward to this one. I know if you wrote it Barbara it will be so much fun to read because you are such a hoot. Ready for the laughter and the tears.
Thanks,
Judy Turner
Just ordered my copy…Can’t wait to read all about my family and friends who were raised right here in the good old mountains of Rabun County….So proud of you Barbara for keeping the memories of our family going !!
Barbara, just finished reading it in only a couple of days. It’s like sitting down and having a good visit with you! I’m going to write a longer message to you separately. Congratulations on a work that will touch many of us who have Rabun Gap in common.
I am an alumni of RGNS Class of 1960. Thank you for writing this book, which I am hearing rave reviews about. Thank you, too, for giving a portion of your cost to the Alumni Association.
Many thanks for sharing your life experiences with those of us who love those mountains and those who have not had the opportunity to share that life. I look forward to reading your collection of memories.
Thank you again,
Former RGNS student
I cannot wait to read your book Barbara. I hope you told alot about your sweet mama and daddy, never was there two more precious people than each of our parents.
Thank you so much for your donation to the Alumni Association.
I’m studying presently at college and i found this blog post quite interesting and beneficial
Barbara, I read the book in two days and it was just like being there with Aunt Cleo & Uncle Jim. You captured our family members just as they were, plain, out spoken and so dang funny! They may have been money poor, but rich in so many other ways. Good work cus!
Two of my children attended RGNS.
M. Lance Ball ’89 and Rachael M. Davis ’99.
I sincerely appreciate your donations to the school.
Blessings,
Maria
I’m trying to think which Hollywood actors can pull off the soon-to-be movie.
Ah heck….none. Just cast the locals.
I cried…I laughed……my eyes are open.
Thank-you Babs!
The book is just like you – funny, tender, profound, and informative. Tears and laughter follow each other through the stories, told as only you can tell them. Your voice comes through loud and clear. I can hear your laughter now and “I ain’t a preacher but…”
Thank you so much for putting all this in a book to be treasured by many for years to come. And Barbara – YOU are a treasure.
I can’t wait for the sequel. (After you rest up and finish all the signings and appearances!)
Thank you also for including Ann and Camp Dixie and for your donations from the book and many gifts of time and love to camp, her directors, staff, alumni, and campers.
Barbara, loved your book… received it in mailbox around noon one day , by bed time already read it . Couldn’t put it down. It brought back so many bittersweet memory’s of my childhood. I sure hope you have another book in you. Will be waiting with baited breath !!
I just ordered your book, can’t wait to read it. It sounds amazing! I attended Camp Dixie for many years and am excited to read what you think about good old Dixie. I’m also very interested in Miss Ann and all you have to say about her. I can’t wait! Thank you!