Your Winter Reflections

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Welcome

This week, I’m turning over the opening of Flat Rock Together to the many readers who shared their stories, moments, and emotions during the recent winter storms.

These reflections are by turns touching, funny, contemplative, and occasionally heartbreaking -  a collective glimpse into how ice and snow briefly reshaped our days, our routines, and our way of being with one another. Accompanied by wonderful photographs, they invite us to slow down and connect with what is truly important in our lives.

I recommend you pour a cup of coffee or hot tea, settle into a comfortable spot at home, and spend some unhurried time with the words and images offered here by your friends and neighbors. It may very well be the best use of your time all day. It certainly has been for me. -bh

Deer Camp

On our first dog walk in 13 days due to the ice storm, Clooney and I followed deer tracks in the snow up into our mountain woods. We discovered a deer camp, an area 15 x 15 with separate spaces delineating where a deer slept on the leaves with their body heat having melted the snow and ice. We then saw the herd about 40 feet away, watching us. Clooney didn’t bark. We all stood motionless.

We then walked on, leaving their peaceful camp to the deer family.

Carol G.

Snow Angel

I made a snow angel! I am old, and I made a snow angel! I absolutely had to make that snow angel – because IT'S SNOW and I've waited so long for some snow! Snow is getting mighty paltry in these parts.

I live in a care facility, and we were admonished not to go out for any reason. I went, of course, and then I got caught walking and chastised. I went out to play, or at least walk, with no excuse except that I needed to be outside.

I treasure the cold and the crunch of snow under my feet. I need to experience once again the trees and woods etched in white; I need to feel that encompassing silence with snowflakes landing like tiny, silent feathers on my face. My fingers tend to fall off, my nose drips, and my face can burn, but it feels so good! My snow angel was pure face plant, and I laughed the whole time. It wasn't graceful, but what joy for me!

I am a winter person. Always! Snow is quiet and breathtakingly beautiful. I need it like I need comfort food – not required, but grand for the soul. A winter without snow is just wrong! I enjoy it from my window, but I will go out with any pretense I can muster. Shoveling the driveway and digging out my car, I like all that. It gives me a rationale to be outside in the cold.

So, despite the dire warnings that I might fall, that I could get hurt, maimed, and die, I went out to play. No apologies. It was wonderful!

Clare S.
Age 86

Tegla and Bentley

Sixty Years of Flat Rock

While we do not live in Flat Rock, we visit often and feel as if this area is our second home! I grew up going to Camp Ton-A-Wandah, met my husband at TAW, later worked there and both children grew up at TAW and Camp Pinnacle. As a matter of fact, we will be at Kanuga this week for a scent work clinic with these two dogs, Tegla and Bentley, both pets and competition dogs.

Love, love, love beautiful Flat Rock, its history and the many wonderful memories made there over the past 60 years.

Marie B

Cabin Fever

Cabin fever struck hard yesterday, and because I had been busy doing so much, and because I just ran out of steam, I sat in a chair with a good view of the empty bird feeders and invited the dogs to join me in watching for avian arrivals.

Nothing happened, while I silently encouraged the birds to come—just me and the dogs, breathing, waiting. Finally, a flurry in a bush, then two chestnut brown shapes on the fence. “Dead leaves,” I thought.

But then a tandem swoop to the feeder and there they were—a pair of handsome Carolina Wrens. A quiet reward for silent watching and waiting.

Mary Beth S.

TAterTot

TaterTot

Despite the frigid temps and my need to keep TaterTot warm, he often chose to stand in the sleet and snow. Was that instinct, the need to be on alert, or perhaps just a warm, waterproof blanket?

I was constantly reminded of how so many animals absorb pain and endure hardships. I never want to be too indifferent to offer relief and protection to another living creature.

Virginia S.

 Renewed Appreciation

Day 11 since the ice storm and I just laid eyes on my home this afternoon. A 1500-foot-long icy driveway and low temperatures made it a challenge to return home. Luckily, I had the foresight to accept a kind friend's offer to stay with her. And cat was invited, too.

But sleeping on a massage table has led me to appreciate my latex mattress even more.

Today I was able to walk on the snow on the side of the driveway to reach the house. Coyote tracks circled the house a few times, perhaps looking for the cat? The birds immediately showed, reminding me I was many days behind on feeding them.

While it may be another day or two before I can drive home, all is well, and I am grateful and looking forward to home sweet home with renewed appreciation.

Amy S
Zirconia, NC

Garden Shed

It's snowing at my house!

What was once a functioning out house on my property is now my garden shed. Looks cute in the snow!

Meighan A.

Time

I have lost my mother, father, both of my children, as well as my niece. Over my 77 years, I have kept cards, letters, notes. I have kept photos in boxes and more boxes. I have my mother’s cards and photos from her family. I have my dad’s family photos. I have my father’s fishing photos, along with a thousand slides he took beginning in the 1950’s.

I took this time to gingerly read these things and to look through every single picture. I cleaned out, however I separated and kept many that I think my stepchildren and my nephew will love looking at when I am gone.

This has been the gift of a lifetime. It was TIME. 

Karen M.

Down Time

During the recent storm, we got and still have 11 inches of snow. I can sincerely say I believe my Creator prepared this time for my husband and I. My husband had just had surgery and it was a perfectly arranged "down time" for recovery.

I noticed how once again neighbors checked on each other and shared cooked treats. How we admired the beauty of the snowfall and enjoyed shrill laughter out of children sledding and playing in the snow. I think this time was nostalgic and simply arranged for all to kick back and enjoy a simpler time watching old movies, cooking hearty meals and enjoying each other's company...now on with Spring!

Stay warm and safe,

Terry P.
Belmont, NC

Milo

Snow Haiku

Milo! Come on out.
Prancing, dancing, powdered nose.
First time in the snow.

Suzanne C.

Teneriffe

Teneriffe and Teneriffe Lake.

Elaine H.

Snow Days, Slow Days

The weather doesn't ask permission to meddle in our lives. Ice, snow, and sleet fall like sheets whether we are ready or not. Everyone knows this, and yet we often find ourselves at odds with the uncontrollable nature of Nature. Our talking about nature, incessantly, especially when the inevitable drop of temperature envelopes us like a slow wave, is a fascinating social phenomenon revealing just how dominated by our environment we really are.

As a business owner and a husband and father, I find myself inexplicably torn as the winter rolls in, slowing us down to a frozen halt. My heart needs to slow down, desires to slow down and hopes to slow down. The memories formed in my kids' hearts and minds of sledding and playing in the snow are a blessing that I know is invaluable.

However, my business also freezes in the cold halt of ice; as I said, the weather doesn't ask my permission before meddling in my business. And a frozen business with ceased sales casts a shadow on the lightness of a snow day with family at home; a dichotomy probably familiar to us all.

And so how does one balance the joy of walking over a blanket of snow as a family with the stress of needing that snow plowed to get the business back open?

There is likely no answer to that question; it is a problem as old as time. Man must learn to work with nature, not against nature in his effort to bring something good into the world. A subtle grace rests over me when I accept the uncontrollable nature of Nature. Maybe the key is to notice the slight priority shift inevitably experienced in the slowing down of a snow day.

And as my daughter points out the bright red cardinal, exclaiming, "Dad, cardinals love the snow!" I can, like her, stop and admire the peace of the cardinal despite our smallness and wait patiently for the sun to gently melt the freeze away, trusting that all will be okay.

Zach P.
Owner, ShareWell Coffee

Go As a River

The ice, the snow, the Stillness, the beauty, the aloneness. I kept thinking, the poor Birds must be so cold and here I am in my warm cozy house. They say life's not fair but still I'm so grateful, grateful for every moment I have electric and so sad for all the people that don't.

Sometimes compassion is painful. Mangala Katz

Go As A River, Karyl/Mangala

MIssy and Mister

Worth Every Cold Day

Every January, my wife and I spend a week in the U.S. Virgin Islands in order to get away from the winter cold. We have a cat sitter come and care for our cats every day while we're gone.

As soon as we arrived in St. Croix this year, we started seeing forecasts of a major ice storm, so (knowing that our cats might be iced in alone for weeks) we turned right around and came back - just time to be iced in for 11 days. We finally were able to get out on Wednesday (2/4). And now it's snowing again, but we and our cats are safe.

Though we were sad that we had to leave the warmth of the tropics for the ice and snow, we'd do anything for our two little guys.

Tony D.

Winter Words

Words and reflections that come to mind:

Solitude. Quiet. Chirping birds. Softness. Community. Crunching footsteps in the snow. The aroma of baking bread. Children’s laughter. Wildlife footprints. Freshly made coffee. Books. Comforting heat. Gratitude.

Dawn W.

Answered Prayer

A friend of mine called today to check on me in the aftermath of the ice storm that swept through our area over the weekend. I told her I was on day four of being completely iced in — my driveway a solid sheet of ice, no way to get out. She laughed and said they were in the same predicament.

I asked if they were well-stocked with food. “Well,” she said, “we thought we were. On the first day of storm confinement, we ate breakfast, lunch, and supper by 10:00 a.m., and all the good snacks were gone by noon. Now we’re just old bears hibernating and waiting for the ice to melt.”

I laughed so hard. It was exactly the comic relief I needed after several long, stranded days.

For more than a week before the storm, I had been running around like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to prepare for Fern. Life felt consuming and chaotic. Storms — especially ones with wind and trees — scare the dickens out of me, and my anxiety was at an all-time high. More than anything, I felt desperate for peace.

What’s ironic is that for weeks I had been praying for God to bless me with some quiet time. I just wasn’t expecting that prayer to be answered in the form of an ice storm.

 “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

I live on twenty-five acres, surrounded by hundreds of trees, a stream, and a long winding drive up the mountain. It is beautiful — and in moments like this, profoundly quiet. Every bird, every deer, every squirrel feels precious against the backdrop of a winter wonderland.

God’s grace often arrives in unexpected ways. For me, this storm became a time of hibernation - a forced stillness that brought healing to my soul. An answered prayer, just not in the way I imagined.

Missy I.
Flat Rock

Flat Rock Kindness

When my husband drove me home recently from a grocery shopping trip, we turned the corner to our road and saw a car partially off the road, stuck in a drainage ditch in front of our home.

He pulled alongside the car, rolled down his window, and said, “There’s no parking here”. The sweet older lady responded with, “Oh, I’m so sorry”, not realizing my husband was making light of the situation.

He told her he could pull her out and proceeded to hook up a chain, put a bag of gravel under one of the front tires, and had her straighten the steering wheel. As he eased on the gas of his truck, the car popped out of the ditch just as planned. She put her car in drive and stepped on the gas, not thinking about the fact that the chain was still hooked up to her car! She was pretty rattled.

My husband was getting ready to crawl under the car to unhook the chain but, given her mindset, went back to the front of the car and asked her if she had the car in park which, of course, she didn’t. He certainly didn’t want to get rolled over. It was so sweet when she offered him $20 which, of course, he didn’t accept.

We’ve lived in Flat Rock for a couple years, but people helping each other is what we’ve come to appreciate and admire about our area. I’m glad our family was able to participate in contributing to what makes living in Flat Rock so enjoyable.

RC

Be Careful What You Wish

I had so hoped for a snow all December. The quiet thumps, and sparkling nights. Be careful what you wish for.

These past weeks have definitely forced us into just stopping and being still. Unable to navigate the driveway we turned our wrap around porch into a gigantic bird feeder. We added warm water stations. A bit messy but well worth it.

We had already wrapped an area under our deck for plants. It became an aviary at nightfall. There were many other footprints in the snow.

I am grateful for the break, the new sights, electricity, and a good supply of birdseed with peanuts. Even more excited to see those happy little yellow faces signaling Spring.

Jennifer H.

Lucky

Q-Tip on the Radio in the kitchen studio

We are all very lucky to live in a place where people care about one another. Having WTZQ, the county and the city communications folks team up to keep us informed is a perfect example as to why Henderson County is the absolute best place to live!

Paige P. and Mark W.

Ice and Snow Days

I spent those days indulging in reading. Not able to go anywhere, I sat at my table drinking tea and letting myself be captured by stories. When I paused, I watched the ice and snow fall, feeling cozy and blessed to be safe and warm with lots of good books to read.

Annie T.

Grateful, Still

As I wake this morning, it’s sleeting or maybe snowing again. Only my car parked outside and the birds at my feeder can tell for sure. I don’t know why I’m surprised.

My mother-in-law, who helped me acclimate to mountain weather when I moved here in 1980, taught me “if snow and ice linger on the ground, they’re calling for more.” Another thing she shared during the 1993 blizzard, when 18 inches of snow fell and closed school for two weeks, “only a warm rain will get rid of ice like this.”

I’m trying to practice what I preach. Be grateful the main roads are clear. Give thanks that the Garden Hamlet lost power for only a few hours. Name the friends who delivered meals, some on foot, to a family whose main caregiver had brain surgery and came home a few days before the first snow and ice. Yes, she’s doing well!

Today, I’m working on taxes and dreaming of temperatures in the forties and fifties. But I know better than to pack away my shovel or boots. After all, that blizzard when I traipsed through snow drifts up to my thighs, blanketed us in the middle of March.

Karen J.

Skeins of Red Yarn and a Snowstorm

Kris

It took skeins of red yarn and a snowstorm to reassure me that I could create my own equilibrium even amid numbing grief.

Aggressive brain cancer robbed me of my beloved daughter Kris on the eve of this new year. I feared days of isolation as Mother Nature smothered the landscape in puff and slick, until something in the news caught my attention. Knitting red “Melt the ICE” hats at a Minneapolis yarn store had gone viral.

All over the country stores were running out of red yarn as knitters and crocheters needled up to support the protest. The idea came from the Norwegian “Keep Hope Alive” nisselues, red knitted beanies with pigtails worn from 1941 to 1944 to protest Nazi occupation, until they were outlawed.

I could participate in something bigger than myself, even if it were just performative. I had red yarn in my stash, and a five-dollar donation brought me the pattern online. I had purpose!

As I knitted, I thought about people displaced from their homes, not just by ICE, but around the world, taking big gulps of gratitude for my creature comforts. And there were happy memories of snow when we lived in Buffalo – teenaged Kris on skis after a blizzard, heading to Tops Market, shopping for snowbound neighbors.

Several days later, hats were bound for Minneapolis, and I was still whole. Getting outside ourselves is always the best antidote for sadness.

Sharon T.

Warmth Shared

We are part-time residents of Flat Rock at Lakewood RV Resort and Jacksonville. From our Florida condo, we watched the stillness at Flat Rock, waiting for our lows to arrive, knowing that our lows would be some of your highs.

A beautiful thing happened two days before our chill descended. I stopped at a garage sale and was surprised when the ladies said everything was free…wow! Knowing that our Downtown Ecumenical Services Council (DESC) was asking for warm clothes, I asked if the garage 'sale' had any winter clothes that could be donated. This dear lady went into her home and came out with armfuls of sweaters, coats, a throw a backpack and even large bags for transport.

All of her clean items were donated the next morning. DESC wrote a letter thanking this unknown benefactor, which I delivered on my way home. Full circle…she and I were as happy as the staff at DESC was for this kindness.

Pat L
Flat Rock/Jacksonville

A Snowy Slowdown

I’m not a cold-weather person, but I do love snow! Its polar crystalline blanket over the mountains always brings a sense of wonder and a chance to slow down and smell the (frozen) roses.

It gave me a chance to do something with my son for the first time in a long time, mainly dig out our driveway and then enjoy something hot to drink afterwards. It gave me an opportunity to split firewood for our woodstove, which I actually enjoy doing but rarely have a need to do. It was great exercise and very meditative.

And it offered a chance to catch up on my canning. I had several dozen peaches from our summer harvest in the freezer. This year, I decided to make rummed peaches. Boy, did it smell good. I’ll let you know in a few weeks how good it tastes. (If I can get up from the couch.)

The most foolish thing I did was try to walk up Glassy Mountain a little too soon. People who know me know how much I like to be in nature. But on some of those slippery, icy hills, nature got the last laugh.

No wonder the only people fool enough to be there were 30-40 years my junior. But it was wonderful to be out in this winter wonderland while it lasts.

David W.

Peace of Wild Things

I did not like the ice, the howling winds and the single-digit temperatures after last week’s ice storm. But the blessing of having a warm house, power, and a fireplace made for cozy moments making music, dabbling with watercolors, or reading on the couch with a cup of tea and dogs snoring softly on the blanket beside me.

I worried about the birds and animals as I lay in bed at night, realizing the wind chill was below zero. What do they do and where do they go when the world is so cold and harsh? And yet, their resilience never ceases to surprise me. In the morning, there were the wrens, chickadees, nuthatches and cardinals, hungrily descending on the birdfeeders and suet that we kept refilling outside our windows.

After the latest snowfall, some crows announced they also wanted some attention and flew down into the hemlock hedge near our back porch. I placed some dry dog kibble, seeds and bread crusts on a stump and watched as they swooped down to snatch the treats. They raised a raucous cry and their feet made funny, pointed tracks in the snow.

Birds and animals teach me about the immediacy of living in the present moment and, as Wendell Berry says, “the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.”

I will keep feeding the birds. And I hope my crow friends will come visit again and call out from their snowy hemlock hedge.

Denise L.

“Dust of Snow”

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree.
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

- Robert Frost

Gift

First week in our new home in Flat Rock Lakes. Locked down tight under three inches of ice topped with six inches of snow. Looking out one evening, we witnessed this spectacular view of the frozen lake bathed by light of the full Moon. We couldn’t have asked for a nicer housewarming gift.

Gary & Dawn G.

The Good Amidst Chaos

I've long believed that people are meant to hibernate through the winter, like bears in cold climates. I had declared a social timeout for the first two weeks of January. My friends were respectful, there if I needed them.

The ice storm blessedly extended this introvert oasis, and while I didn't figure out answers to any of the deep questions about myself and my intentions for the future, I was able to settle very happily into 1800s English rural society, finishing Middlemarch and advancing to Adam Bede and The Mill on the Floss.

Reading George Eliot is my resolution for the rest of 2026. A good life amidst the chaos.

J’ean R.

Inside the Quiet

The world outside had gone quiet, wrapped in ice and snow that softened every sound. Trees stood still, the road untouched, as if time itself had decided to pause. Indoors, the house felt warmer—not just from the heat, but from the rhythm of a slower day.

A laptop glowed on the table, photographs from recent trips filling the screen. Each image was a doorway back to somewhere else: early light, long roads, moments caught just in time. Editing them felt less like work but more like revisiting all the exotic places while the storm lingered outside.

Between photo editing came chapters of a book, read in a favorite chair, pages turning as steadily as the snow fell. And then laughter—bright and sudden—the grandchildren racing through the room, their joy cutting through the winter hush. Small hands tugged, slippery hills used for sledding, snacks were shared, and the day filled itself naturally.

Ice and snow could have made the world feel smaller. Instead, they made it richer—full of memories, stories, and the simple, perfect warmth of being together inside.

Barbara G.

Winter Photos

1) The Downy in Flight—Takeout Tuesday: A Downy grabs a snack on the go.

2) Cardinal and Finches—Early bird Special: Cardinal oversees morning rush hour.

3) Pileated Woodpecker—Nature’s heavy hitter: Pileated Woodpecker pauses for a profile

4) Landscape—Winter’s quite blanket: moody, misty, peaceful peaks

Jeff M.

Reflections on a Winter Storm
The January 31, 2026, Snowfall

Seven inches of snow fell on Laurel Park overnight and into the next day. What it brought were numerous gifts:

• Sudden transformation of dark, bare trees to white-coated sentinels of the woods.

• A silent community – no motors of any kind, no planes, only the sound of wind and an occasional bird

• Pinnacle Ridge, with its white crest blending with the morning sky

• A time to pause, reflect, remember and breathe

• Childhood memories of sledding and skating in wintry landscapes

From a lover of winter,

Michael E.
Laurel Park

Challenge Accepted

My out-of-state children and grandchildren challenged me to make a snowman, but the snow was too powdery. Instead, I created a snow angel the old-fashioned way, which did not disappoint.

Sally H.

Ice and Sunshine

From ice-covered everything to a wonderful pair showing up for a little treat in the after-storm sunshine.

Sue and Rich E.

Wintery Mix

Our home feels cozy in the way only a winter storm can make it. Snow ticks off the windows and the wind hoots in the chimney like a child blowing across the top of an empty soda bottle. My wife and I set two hard dining room chairs side-by-side in front of the computer. Onscreen, windows open. My siblings and their spouses appear from across Ontario, Canada, where a North Carolina blizzard is just another Thursday.

We’ve gathered to talk about our mom. She is days away from turning 85 and weeks away from moving out of the apartment she has lived in for the past two decades. She doesn’t know that yet. Her memory is failing, falling, ticking off the windows. Our conversations, still bright and bubbly, are increasingly free of traction: her thoughts and words sliding on the treacherous ice of cognitive decline.

We’ve found her a place that’s sunnier – though her failing eyesight makes that moot – where she’ll be safer – though she’d prefer her autonomy. She claims she’s independent but is oblivious to the blanket of people and services we’ve knitted around her over the years. The blanket isn’t big enough anymore. There are holes in the patchwork as big as hours in a day.

Our gathering in the sharp, bright digital boxes lasts one of those hours. We discuss next steps, necessary steps, divide up jobs. We laugh more than I expect. We parcel out the coming weeks as if time was fixed and fitted like white squares on a calendar. Time has taken my mother past the white squares into the white-outs.

Reality is a wintery mix.

We finish and sign off, committed to an act of love that feels like cowardice. My wife takes the computer to plug in so it will have a full battery should the storm knock out our power. I slide the dining chairs back under the table and stand at the patio door, looking through the white wooden blinds to the white woolen snow falling, shrouding the world, hiding all that treacherous ice.

Snow ticks off the windows, and I feel cold.

Michael S.

Thank You

My sincere thanks to everyone who took the time - and found the courage -  to share something of themselves. I am genuinely honored by your willingness to contribute to Flat Rock Together. This week, more than ever, it truly feels like a community. Thank you.

Bruce H.
Editor