In June of 1906, Thomas Alva Edison visited Henderson County and stayed at the Blue Ridge Inn on the corner of Main Street and Third Avenue West in downtown Hendersonville. The purpose of Edison’s visit, however, was not to enjoy the bucolic pleasures of an emerging mountain resort village. Indeed, Edison had his inventor’s eyes on a community in the southern part of Henderson County known – in no small part because of Edison’s decades-long interest – as Zirconia.

Next to Santa’s cookies were four thank-you notes. The handwriting on the notes was difficult to make out, but the sincerity and appreciation were evident in every crayon mark and comical attempt to draw a reindeer. I loved that they still believed.

Next to the notes, cookies, and milk were the old alphabet blocks from my childhood. The kids had worked together - turning each block to find the correct letter - and spelled out “Love You Santa” with the worn painted letters.

I began to wonder about the origin of the white squirrels. Where do they live? What is the biological explanation for their bright white coats? How prevalent are they? And how in the world do they survive in a world full of predators while being so incredibly conspicuous wherever they go?

As it turns out, I am not the first to wonder about these vitally important questions. There is even the White Squirrel Institute in our neighboring town of Brevard. Here is what I have learned.

E.R. Haire, Jr. was, by his own account, a less than stellar student during his time at NC State University when a professor’s challenge opened a new and very rewarding chapter of his life.  It was a pivotal moment that proved to be the genesis of E.R.’s upcoming one-man performance of Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” at St. John in the Wilderness Episcopal Church in Flat Rock.

Thanksgiving weekend in Flat Rock feels like the perfect time to pause and take stock of the blessings I experience almost daily here in Flat Rock. At a time when it is all too easy to get distracted by the disappointments and troubles that swirl about in the wider world, it is even more important for me to reflect on all that is good in my life.

Today is December 1st. So it seems only fitting that I celebrate the spirit of the season with a list of 31 reasons - one for each day of the month – that I appreciate about living in this beautiful village in the mountains of North Carolina.

As a young boy riding his bike past the Hendersonville Airport, Mark Huneycutt dreamed of one day becoming a helicopter pilot. That dream has propelled him to a life of adventure that includes attaining his dream of piloting helicopters in the US Army, becoming renowned as a daring paramotor pilot, and most recently, becoming nationally famous for his on-the-ground reporting of the devastation in western North Carolina as a result of Hurricane Helene.

At age 33, Mark Huneycutt has already experienced several lifetime's worth of adventure.

Thanksgiving is a time for family, friends, and good food. Fortunately for those of us living in and around Flat Rock, our local restaurants are making plans to make sure our holiday meals are not only festive but delectable as well.  

This week we've put together a list of all the ways that our culinary friends are ready to help make Thanksgiving dinner a little easier to prepare and a lot more delicious.

This season, support our local businesses by making them an important part of your Thanksgiving preparations and meals.

Flat Rock has a growing reputation for its culinary offerings, but in recent years, there’s been one element missing—a dedicated breakfast spot. Enter Hubbaloo – Starr Teel’s latest culinary venture which opened this month in the bright green building along the iconic Little Rainbow Row.

This article about Cam Boyd was first published in July 2021. It was my good fortune to spend a few hours with Cam and listen to his stories of growing up in Flat Rock. Cam was a direct link to the Flat Rock of the old times and I appreciated his first-hand accounts of the days that seemed an idyllic setting for a young boy to grow up.

Cam was generous with his time and unfailingly kind as I listened to him paint a picture of a fascinating life. I will always be grateful for the chance to meet and know Cam Boyd, even if just for a little while.

Cam passed away on September 24th, 2024 at age 79.

In early 1940, a young Belgian girl named Thérèse “Treska” Gevaert was just 15 years old and enjoying the largely carefree existence of a teenager. But the storm clouds of war were on the horizon and the next four years would upend everything that young girl knew - and set her life on a course of hardships, adventures, and challenges difficult to imagine today.

Her incredible journey – which ultimately took her from her birthplace in Belgium to Flat Rock – would be the defining experience of her life and help shape Treska’s worldview

After staring at the burning match for a few seconds, Clarence began to drop his hand toward the pool of kerosene on the wooden floor.  He closed his eyes and whispered, “Forgive me, Mama.”  At that moment, he heard a loud meow. Startled, he spun on his heel and saw Squirt sitting on the counter next to the cash register; staring at him with an unsettling, judgmental expression.

Clarence considered Louise’s offer, not sure if he wanted to know the story about the strange apparitions who’d been appearing in the store. He’d been alive long enough to understand that sometimes not knowing was preferable to hearing the truth. His curiosity won out. “What did grandma tell you? Is this place haunted?”

Clarence stared intently at the man who had just asked to speak with his grandmother—an elderly woman who had passed away decades ago. Oddly enough, the stranger didn’t seem the least bit shaken when Clarence informed him that Antha Hood had been dead for 40 years. He simply nodded, as if considering the news, before beginning to walk slowly along the shelves on the far side of the store, clearly searching for something.

Clarence stared intently at the mysterious young man who had just broken into his store. Was he dangerous or just crazy? “Your name is Carl Sandburg? Are you related to old man Sandburg who used to live up the hill at Connemara?”

The stranger’s placid smile morphed into a sly grin. “Am I related?” He reached down to scratch Squirt’s head. Then looking back at Clarence, he answered, “I suppose I am.”

Virginia sat alone in the quiet of a late afternoon in Flat Rock. Her store, The Wrinkled Egg, was empty after a busy day and now the only sound was the soft rhythmic click of the clock hanging on the wall behind the cash register. The ticking of the clock echoed through the space and collected in an audible pool of time. Another day in Flat Rock had come and gone.