Every old home in Roanoke has a personality. Mine had opinions.
Especially in winter.
I bought my place in Raleigh Court because it had charm. Heavy doors. Plaster walls. Original floors that creaked in all the right ways. It felt like a postcard from the 1940s.
But that winter taught me something important: charm also comes with a few secrets.
The first cold snap hit in early December. I woke up one morning and the house felt like it had decided to host its own ice festival. Not just chilly. Arctic. The kind of cold where you can see your breath while wondering why you still live in Virginia.
I did what every homeowner does. I started “investigating.”
The living room window rattled like a loose snare drum. The back door let in enough wind to power a small turbine. And the kitchen? The floor dropped five degrees the moment you stepped onto it. I joked that my home had microclimates. A meteorologist would’ve cried.
But the moment that really stopped me was during holiday cooking.
Family crowded around the kitchen island, laughing and talking, while I rotated between the oven, the fridge, and an outlet that still felt suspicious every time I used it. The kitchen felt cramped. Outdated. Poorly laid out. It was obvious the space had never been designed for how people live today.
Right then, stirring a pot of mashed potatoes with one elbow while blocking a cold draft with my hip, I realized something:
My house wasn’t broken.
It was honest.
Winter just made it impossible to ignore anymore.
That night, I started looking for answers. Not quick fixes. Not temporary patches. I wanted a real plan for a major renovation, the kind of upgrade that respects the character of an older Roanoke home. While searching, I came across a helpful article that explained why winter is actually the ideal time to begin planning a renovation. The timing felt too perfect to ignore.
Here’s the piece that changed how I looked at my home:
this guide on starting a major renovation in winter
It spelled out exactly why winter reveals the problems that spring tends to hide. It also broke down how cold-season planning leads to smoother projects, faster timelines, and better access to skilled contractors when everyone else is still waiting for warm weather.
By January, I had a vision. A new kitchen layout. Energy-efficient windows. Better insulation. A more open main-floor flow. The kind of changes that make an old Roanoke home feel classic and comfortable instead of classic and cold.
And here is the funny part.
Once you start planning a renovation in winter, the season you used to dread becomes the season that sets you up for the best year your home has ever had.
If you’re sitting in your own Roanoke house right now, wrapped in a sweatshirt while you wait for spring, I’ll tell you the same thing I wish someone had told me:
Your home is talking to you.
Winter lets you hear it.
And the solutions are closer than you think.