Meanwhile, Back at Model Farm . . .
" I think I may have a problem with looking at historic homes on the Internet. I’ve been looking at them for a while now, but I never got into any trouble until I found Model Farm." That bit from my August 5, 2010 "Glass Half Full" column in Go Triad got it almost right. Almost, because I didn't find Model Farm. Model Farm found me. Back then I was a young, married mother of one, driving my curly-headed toddler around to get her to nap –– and we wound up in the driveway of an oasis, a time capsule tucked away in plain sight over near the DMV in High Point. It's an "industrial" area, where you go if you need to renew your license, or maybe pick up some scrap metal or drugs. Or, if you're me, it's where you find yourself sitting at the wheel of your SUV while your kid finally naps and you stare up at a gorgeously ramshackle 7-chimneyed farmhouse and your heart and brain hug each other because you have a column due the next day and at tha
