08/21/2026
I remember when to***co was woven into the very fabric of life in my home in eastern North Carolina.
I grew up running around in those to***co fields probably getting in the way more than helping anybody.
I remember early mornings walking in those wet leaves that seemed to stretch on forever but knowing when we got to a certain point there was a cold drink and a pack of Nabs waiting.
I remember my Granddaddy winning second place in the to***co looping contest at our hometown Farmers Day using sticks like the ones that were my āstick horsesā as I ran around and played in that old pack house on the farm.
I remember the smell.
And somehow, after all these years, I can still catch a hint of that smell when I walk into our old barn.
This to***co leaf fell off a trailer right here like it knew that maybe this is where it should be. I picked it up because it felt like more than just a leaf lying in the road. It felt like a little piece of a life that once was.
My Grandma and the women in that old photograph were doing the work that generations of North Carolina farm families knew so well.
The to***co basket would have carried those golden cured leaves on their journey to an auction warehouse.
And that old bulk barn sign signals the changes that eventually made beautiful old pack houses like ours unnecessary.
But I couldnāt let this one disappear.
We saved her because I feel she deserved to be remembered.
Today, our old to***co barn, The Barn at Borderline Farm, doesnāt hold those beautiful green leaves. She doesnāt watch them turn yellow and finally that deep, warm gold.
Instead, she holds stories and helps people make more memories.
Weāve filled her with little pieces of the life she once knewāold to***co sticks, a framed to***co sheet, baskets and reminders of the people who worked those endless fields of green in the hot NC summer sun.
Now her doors are open to our community.
Because I donāt just see an old barn when I look at her.
I see home.
I see my childhood.
I see my Granddaddy and my Grandma.
And I see a piece of our agricultural history that was too beautiful to let disappear.
Maybe thatās why saving this old girl mattered so much to me.
She may not hold to***co anymoreā¦
but she still holds the story. š
