Winter in North Mississippi can feel deceptive. One day it’s warm enough to open the windows, the next it drops into the 20s. The swings are fast, and the cold carries weight—bone-chilling from the humidity, settling in deeper than expected.
Coming from Colorado, there was a certain confidence about cold weather—layers, gloves, business as usual. That confidence didn’t last long.
An inch of ice turned out to be far more than expected. Trees froze solid, every limb coated in glass. When the wind picked up, the woods came alive with sound—sharp cracks, deep booms, and long echoes that carried through the night. Exploding trees are very real, and they make for anything but a quiet evening. On 40 wooded acres, it felt like the land itself was shifting.
Power went out that first night. Thankfully, there was a generator for the food trailer that could be “plugged up,” as folks here say, keeping a few essentials running in the house. Everyone gathered into one place, generators humming in the background, as Tippah, Union, and Alcorn counties settled under ice.
As days passed, the damage revealed itself everywhere. Power poles snapped. Power lines lay across roads and driveways. Until this storm, driving over or under a downed power line wasn’t something that ever crossed the mind. Now it’s hard to count how many have been carefully navigated just to get from place to place.
Here in rural Tishomingo, the storm didn’t just roll through—it stayed. Power was out for eight days before finally returning. Water is still uncertain. Some neighbors will be without electricity for weeks, facing repairs that will take much longer than the storm itself.
When there was finally a chance to get out and cook, it was a balmy 1 degree—one for the record books at Dixie Farms. After cold cooks in Colorado, it felt safe to say cold was familiar territory. Mississippi apparently had other plans. As the saying goes… hold my beer.
Warm food in that kind of cold hits different. Supplies are still hard to come by and logistics remain tricky, but being able to serve—even briefly—mattered. There’s hope to be back out next week, doing what can be done to help warm up the community again.
The damage is real—blocked roads, broken fences, scarred homes—but so is the resilience. Neighbors checking on neighbors. Shared generators. Hot meals passed hand to hand. In the middle of the quiet and the cold, that sense of connection carried people through.
Winter Storm Fern changed the landscape, but it didn’t change the heart of this place. If anything, it reminded everyone how closely tied rural communities are—especially when the lights go out and the nights stretch long.
The thaw is slow. Cleanup is ongoing. Water is still being waited on. And through it all, there’s a deeper respect for winter in North Mississippi—beautiful, unforgiving, and met with steady resolve.
Onward, together.
— Marylou, Dixie Farms
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