Stay The Triad
furnished homes across Winston-Salem & the Piedmont Triad, NC
Hi — we're keeping a scrapbook. Every page in here is a house we've fallen for around Winston-Salem and the Piedmont Triad. Scott builds them, Stephanie dresses them up, and honestly, we just really wanted an excuse to show them off. Pull up a chair, flip through, and if one of these places gives you butterflies… well, that's kind of the point.
the homes we've fallen for
Six favorites, dog-eared and taped in. Tap any one to book it direct.
the journal
Fourteen pages we filled in between showings — neighborhoods, seasons, a little local history, and a few things we just wanted an excuse to write about. Tap any card to read the whole page.
The Winston-Salem neighborhoods we keep coming back to
neighborhoodsThe Winston-Salem neighborhoods we keep coming back to
We get asked some version of the same question in almost every guestbook note: where should we actually go while we're here? Not the top-ten-lists version — the version where you tell us what you'd do on a Saturday with nothing planned. So here's that answer, neighborhood by neighborhood.
Old Salem is the one people don't expect. It's a real, still-standing Moravian settlement from the 1700s — cobblestone paths, working potters and bakers, the kind of quiet that makes you lower your voice without meaning to. Go early, before the tour groups, and get a loaf from Winkler Bakery while it's still warm. It's a ten-minute walk from a couple of our houses, which is exactly why we keep sending people there instead of explaining it over coffee.
The West End is where we'd live if the houses weren't already spoken for. Big wraparound porches, hundred-year-old trees, a genuinely walkable stretch of Fourth Street with coffee shops that don't rush you out. It's the neighborhood that makes people ask "wait, people just live here?" — yes, and we're a little jealous of them.
Downtown and the Innovation Quarter, especially around Bailey Park, is where the city shows its newer side — a brewery tucked into the old Bailey Power Plant, once part of R.J. Reynolds' tobacco operations, plus murals that change more often than you'd think and a farmers market that spills onto the sidewalk on Saturdays. It's the part of town that makes "Camel City" (the old R.J. Reynolds Camel-cigarettes nickname, still stuck to Winston-Salem like a good tattoo) feel less like history and more like a running joke the whole city's in on.
Near Wake Forest is its own category — if you're in town for a parent's weekend, a game, graduation, or just visiting family who moved here for the university, staying close means you can enjoy more time with your loved ones. A few of our houses sit right in that pocket for exactly this reason.
Buena Vista is the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood built by the same families whose names are stamped on half the buildings downtown — Reynolds, Gray, Hanes. Mostly it's just handsome old houses on handsome old streets, but tucked into it is Graylyn, the closest thing this city has to an actual castle. Bowman and Nathalie Gray — he ran R.J. Reynolds Tobacco, she wanted to live inside a medieval French castle — built it between 1928 and 1932, and their architect apparently took the assignment literally: 46,000 square feet, imported 15th-century French woodwork, gold-plated bathroom fixtures, one shower with seventeen showerheads. The Gray family gave the whole estate to Wake Forest University in 1946, and after a 1980s rebuild it reopened as a hotel and conference center — which means you don't need to know anyone to walk the grounds or book a night in a room that once belonged to a tobacco fortune. It's the kind of Winston-Salem mansion that sounds made up until you're standing in the driveway.
None of these are the whole story — that's sort of the point of keeping a scrapbook instead of a brochure. We'll add to this one as we find more corners worth sending you to.
Fall in the Piedmont Triad, our short list
the seasonsFall in the Piedmont Triad, our short list
Every year around the second week of October, the light in the Piedmont does this thing where it turns gold about an hour before sunset, and everyone we know suddenly has somewhere to be outside. Here's what's usually on our list.
The Carolina Classic Fair (it went by "Dixie Classic Fair" until the city renamed it in 2020) hits Winston-Salem in early October — rides, funnel cake, a livestock competition that's a lot more charming than it sounds if you've never seen a kid show a prize goat. It's not fancy. It's also exactly the kind of thing that makes a trip feel like it happened somewhere specific instead of anywhere.
Wake Forest football Saturdays turn the whole area near campus into a tailgate, whether or not you have a ticket. Even a walk through the edges of it — the smell of grills, the marching band warming up somewhere you can't see — is worth the detour if you're staying nearby.
Drive time to leaf season is shorter than people expect. Pilot Mountain and the Yadkin Valley wine country are both under an hour out, and by mid-to-late October the drive itself is most of the point — the kind of route where you stop for a photo you didn't plan on taking.
And then there's the part that isn't an event at all — the evenings get cool enough for a porch and a blanket, the windows stay cracked instead of the AC running, and everything just slows down a register. That's the version of fall we actually built these houses for.
If you're trying to decide when to come, this is our honest answer: come when the light does that gold thing. You'll know it when you see it.
A weekend here, the slow version
the stayA weekend here, the slow version
Nobody's guestbook note is ever really about the thread count. So instead of another list of amenities, here's what a weekend actually looks like, more or less, in one of our houses.
You get in Friday evening, later than you meant to, and the first ten minutes are always the same — find the light switches, figure out which cabinet has the glasses, stand in the kitchen for a second longer than necessary just taking it in. Somebody puts a bag down in the wrong room and nobody bothers to move it.
Saturday starts slower than it should, coffee in whatever mug looked interesting, maybe out on the porch if the morning's cool enough to make that feel earned instead of performative. There's usually a stretch of the day with no plan at all — the good kind of no plan, where you end up at a bakery you didn't research or a park bench you weren't aiming for. By the time the light starts doing its late-afternoon thing, somebody's suggesting dinner somewhere, and somebody else already found it on their phone twenty minutes ago and just hadn't said anything yet.
Saturday night is usually the loudest the house gets — cards on the coffee table, a movie half-watched, the kind of conversation that only happens when everyone's slightly too tired to be careful about what they say. And then it goes quiet fast, the way a full day does.
Sunday is the short one. Coffee again, slower this time because nobody's pretending there's somewhere to be. A last look at the rooms before you go, the sense that you were only just getting used to them. And then the drive home, already talking about when you'd come back.
That's it, mostly. That's what we're actually selling, if we're honest about it — not a bed count, just a couple of good, slow days somewhere that isn't home.
Bethania, the Moravian village next door
historyBethania, the Moravian village next door
Bethania Mill, in the historic Moravian village of Bethania, NC. Photo: Ceh2624, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Everyone who's heard of Old Salem has heard of Old Salem. Almost nobody's heard of Bethania, which is funny, because it's the one that's actually still doing the thing it was built to do.
Here's the short version of the history, since it explains why the town looks the way it does: the Moravians who settled this part of the Piedmont built three towns on their original land grant. Bethabara came first, in 1753 — a landing spot, never meant to be permanent. Bethania came second, in 1759, laid out by a surveyor named Christian Philip Gottlieb Reuter as an actual planned village, open to Moravian and non-Moravian families alike. Salem — the one everyone visits now — came third, a few years later, built to be the polished, central congregation town. Bethania was the working farm town in between, and it's the only one of the three that still looks like an open-field European farming village instead of a museum piece. Locals will tell you it's the last one left in North Carolina, and as far as we've found, that checks out.
What that means for a visit: you're not walking through a recreation, you're walking through a town people still live in, laid out on the same lots since 1759. The visitor center on Ham Horton Lane is a good starting point — the restored 1790s Wolff-Moser House and the 1894 Alpha Chapel are both right there, and the Black Walnut Trail is an easy mile and a half if you want to stretch your legs afterward. It's about ten miles northwest of downtown, close enough that it's an easy add-on to an Old Salem morning, not a whole separate trip.
We like sending people here specifically because it doesn't try to sell you anything. No gift shop energy. Just a very old, very small town that kept doing its own thing while the city grew up around it.
Worth checking current hours before you go — the visitor center historically keeps limited days.
Where the Revolutionary War actually passed through here
historyWhere the Revolutionary War actually passed through here
The Yadkin River at Shallow Ford, site of the October 1780 skirmish. Photo: Jan Kronsell, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Shallow Ford, on the Yadkin River, was a crossing point important enough that both armies fought over who controlled it. On October 14, 1780, a few hundred Patriot militia under Major Joseph Cloyd ambushed a Loyalist militia column under Colonel Gideon Wright as they crossed — the Patriots held the high ground, the Loyalists were caught mid-river and strung out along the road, and it was over fast. Fourteen Loyalists killed, around forty captured. It's a minor battle by Revolutionary War standards, but it mattered locally — it helped keep Loyalist militia from reinforcing the British in the weeks before Cornwallis's own campaign through this area unraveled. And Shallowford Road remains as today as a memory of yesterday, a route winding everywhere and nowhere where you do and don't need to go.
And Cornwallis himself did come through. In February 1781, chasing General Nathanael Greene's Continental Army north in what's now called "the Race to the Dan," Cornwallis's army marched straight through Bethabara and Salem. The Moravians kept meticulous diaries, so we know almost exactly what happened: on February 9, dragoons rode ahead demanding brandy, meat, and grain. On February 10, roughly 2,000 soldiers — redcoats, green-coated cavalry, camp followers, cannons — took about six hours to pass through. In Salem, Cornwallis and the royal governor stopped at what's now the T. Bagge Merchant Store on Main Street and spent ninety minutes being politely hosted while the army marched on outside. The Moravians, committed pacifists, fed and supplied an army of thousands without picking a side — and then got quietly suspected of Loyalist sympathies by their own neighbors for how smoothly it went.
None of it looks like a battlefield today. That's sort of the point — you can stand in the middle of Old Salem on an ordinary Tuesday and be standing exactly where the British army stopped for lunch.
Mount Airy, and the honest answer to the Mayberry question
day tripsMount Airy, and the honest answer to the Mayberry question
Downtown Mount Airy, NC — Andy Griffith's hometown. Photo: KyleAndMelissa22, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Here's the question everyone asks before they've even finished asking it: is Mount Airy actually Mayberry? The honest answer is more interesting than a yes.
Andy Griffith really did grow up in Mount Airy, and The Andy Griffith Show really did draw on that childhood — but Griffith himself spent decades pushing back on the idea that Mayberry was Mount Airy with the names changed. He'd point out that the show's writers pulled from other small Carolina towns too, and he got visibly tired of people insisting otherwise. "I've argued about this too long," he said once. "I don't care." Which is its own kind of very Southern, very funny non-answer.
None of that has stopped Mount Airy from leaning all the way in, and honestly, it works. Snappy Lunch, open since the 1920s, still serves the pork chop sandwich that got a shoutout in the show — order it, it's the whole point. Wally's Service Station, a real 1937 Gulf station, now runs open-air tours in replica Mayberry squad cars past a rebuilt version of the courthouse. Floyd's City Barber Shop is still an actual working barbershop on Main Street, named for the show's Floyd the Barber. The Andy Griffith Museum and the Andy Griffith Playhouse — where Griffith himself performed as a young man — round out an easy afternoon, and if you're lucky enough to be around in late September, Mayberry Days takes over downtown for a long weekend of fans, tribute performers, and a whole lot of nostalgia.
It's about 36 miles north on US-52, a straight 45-minute drive, which makes it an easy half-day trip rather than a whole detour. Go for the pork chop sandwich, stay for the slightly absurd experience of a town built around a place that, depending who you ask, never quite existed.
The doughnut shop that started it all
food & drinkThe doughnut shop that started it all
A present-day Krispy Kreme shop in the Winston-Salem area (Clemmons, NC) — not the historic 1937 original site, but the same recipe. Photo: Harrison Keely, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Here's a fact that surprises more guests than it should: Krispy Kreme is a Winston-Salem invention, not a chain that happened to open a location here.
On July 13, 1937, a man named Vernon Rudolph rented space in a small warehouse at 534 South Main Street, having bought a secret yeast-raised doughnut recipe from a chef in New Orleans. The plan wasn't even to sell doughnuts to walk-in customers — Rudolph was supplying grocery stores. But the smell coming off Main Street did what smells like that do, and people started knocking, asking to buy them straight off the line. So he cut a hole in the wall of the building and started selling doughnuts directly to whoever showed up. That hole in the wall is, more or less, the entire business model that turned into a publicly traded company with shops across the world.
The original site is marked today with a historical plaque, a short walk from Old Salem. It's not a working shop anymore — for an actual hot doughnut and the famous "Hot Doughnuts Now" neon sign, you'll want one of the current locations around town, and yes, it's worth timing a visit for when that sign is lit. But there's something worth the two minutes it takes to stand at 534 South Main and picture a hole cut in a warehouse wall, a line of people who couldn't wait, and a recipe from a stranger in New Orleans that turned into one of the most recognizable snack foods in the country.
We've never met a guest who regretted the detour.
Reynolda: the estate, the village, the gardens
arts & cultureReynolda: the estate, the village, the gardens
The front lawn of Reynolda House, the 1917 estate of Katharine and R.J. Reynolds. Photo: Mcintern2012, CC0/public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
If you've spent any time in Winston-Salem, you've heard "Camel City" and you've probably heard "R.J. Reynolds" a dozen times without necessarily connecting them to a specific place you can walk through. Reynolda is that place.
Katharine Smith Reynolds and her husband R.J. Reynolds — yes, that R.J. Reynolds, the tobacco company — built Reynolda between 1912 and the end of 1917 as a working country estate, not a mansion for show. That distinction matters, because it explains why "Reynolda" today isn't just one building. There's the house itself, which opened to the public in 1965 and became a full art museum in 1967, now home to a genuinely serious American art collection — Georgia O'Keeffe, Andrew Wyeth, Thomas Cole, names you wouldn't necessarily expect to find on a former tobacco fortune's farm. There's Reynolda Gardens, the restored formal gardens with their Japanese-influenced plantings, free and open, and a favorite for a slow morning walk. And there's Reynolda Village, the old estate's working farm buildings — stables, a power plant, a laundry — quietly converted decades ago into shops and restaurants, so you can get lunch in a building that used to milk cows.
The estate's connection to this area runs even deeper than the museum: Katharine and R.J.'s daughter-in-law's family, the Babcocks, donated land from the Reynolda grounds to Wake Forest University in the 1940s, which is why Wake Forest's campus sits right next door today — one more thread tying this stretch of Winston-Salem together.
It's an easy half-day: house and gardens in the morning, lunch in the Village, home before the afternoon gets long. Different pace than Old Salem, same instinct behind it — an old part of this city that's still doing something with itself instead of just being preserved behind glass.
RiverRun, the spring counterpart to our fall list
arts & cultureRiverRun, the spring counterpart to our fall list
We already wrote up our short list for fall around here — the fair, the football Saturdays, the leaf season drives. RiverRun is the spring version of that same instinct: a real reason to time a visit around something happening in town, rather than just around the weather.
RiverRun International Film Festival didn't actually start in Winston-Salem. It was founded in 1998 in Brevard, NC, by Gennaro, Vincent, and Elizabeth D'Onofrio — yes, actor Vincent D'Onofrio, whose family has roots in the area — and named for the French Broad River running through that town. In 2003, Dale Pollock, then dean of the School of Filmmaking at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts here in Winston-Salem, relocated the festival to the city, where it's stayed ever since as its own independent nonprofit. Since 2014, it's been an Oscar-qualifying festival for the animated short film category, which is a bigger deal in the film world than the name might suggest to anyone outside it — it means a short film that wins at RiverRun becomes eligible for Academy Award consideration.
Practically, the festival runs every spring, generally in April, over a stretch of about a week to ten days, with screenings, panels, and events spread across venues downtown and around UNCSA. You don't need to be a film person to enjoy the week — the energy downtown picks up noticeably, restaurants stay busier later, and there's a version of the festival for someone who just wants to catch one strong film and call it a night, same as there's a version for someone doing the full pass.
If fall here is porch weather and a gold-lit drive to the mountains, spring has its own version worth building a weekend around — just with a marquee instead of a hayride.
High Point Market week, from the outside
local lifeHigh Point Market week, from the outside
The Israel Furniture Pavilion in High Point, NC, photographed in 1982. Photo: John Margolies, Library of Congress (Roadside America archive), public domain.
This one's a little different from the rest of these, because it's not really an invitation. High Point Market is trade-only — retailers, designers, and industry press, not the general public — so we're not writing this to get you to go. We're writing it because if you're staying anywhere in the Triad during Market week, you're going to feel it whether you go or not, and it helps to know why.
Twice a year, every April and October, High Point — about 20 miles and a half-hour drive from Winston-Salem — becomes, for about a week, the center of the global furniture and home-decor industry. The numbers are genuinely startling for a city this size: more than 75,000 people descend on roughly 11.5 million square feet of permanent showroom space, spread across close to 180 buildings, to see product from around 2,000 exhibitors. Around ten percent of attendees fly in from outside the U.S. Economists put the total economic impact at close to $6.7 billion a year, supporting tens of thousands of jobs across the region — which is a lot of adjectives for what is, at street level, a very ordinary-looking Piedmont city that briefly runs out of hotel rooms.
That last part is the practical piece for anyone staying nearby. During Market week, hotel rooms across the whole Triad — not just in High Point — fill up fast, restaurants get busier, and traffic on the roads connecting High Point, Greensboro, and Winston-Salem thickens noticeably. If your trip happens to land during an April or October Market week, it's worth knowing that's why the area feels a little different — more suits and lanyards at breakfast, more out-of-state plates on I-40. It's not a reason to avoid visiting. It's just context for a week where this quiet corner of North Carolina is, very briefly, the busiest furniture city on the planet, whether or not anyone driving past a showroom ever gets to walk in.
In defense of the Winston-Salem Hyphens
for laughsIn defense of the Winston-Salem Hyphens
Truist Stadium, home of the Winston-Salem Dash (née, for one night, the Hyphens). Photo: DiscoA340, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
We need to talk about the Winston-Salem Dash, and specifically about the fact that they are not, grammatically speaking, telling the truth.
The Winston-Salem Dash are a minor league baseball team, the Class A affiliate of the Chicago White Sox, playing right downtown at Truist Stadium. The name is a nod to the punctuation mark connecting "Winston" and "Salem" — the two mill towns that merged into one city back in 1913 and have been legally, if not always emotionally, one place ever since. Cute idea. One small problem: the mark connecting Winston and Salem is a hyphen, not a dash. A dash is longer, used to set off a clause — like the ones we keep using in this very journal — and it does the opposite job of a hyphen, which pulls two words together into one. Winston-Salem is hyphenated. The team is, technically, named after the wrong piece of punctuation.
We are apparently not the only ones who noticed. The complaints reportedly came in for years — from grammar-minded fans, and, memorably, from other minor league teams needling them about it — until the front office finally did the honest thing. On May 6, 2023, for one night only, the Winston-Salem Dash became the Winston-Salem Hyphens. Team president Brian DeAngelis leaned all the way into it: "As we learned what a hyphen really does, instead of breaking up words like a dash, it actually joins them together" — which, if you think about it for a second, is a genuinely sweet way to describe two towns merging into one. The team ran an in-game bit all night asking "is it hyphenated or is it not hyphenated?", with DeAngelis noting that "the grammar nerds in particular spearheaded this whole thing." A different team explanation, from the club, tied the rebrand explicitly to that 1913 merger and what the connecting mark is supposed to represent — the joining of two communities into one.
They played exactly one game as the Hyphens and then, infuriatingly, went right back to being the Dash. We think that's a mistake. A minor league team built its entire identity around a punctuation mark and then picked the wrong one — the correction was right there, they tried it, the fans loved it, and they let it go. So consider this our small, standing campaign: catch a game at Truist Stadium, cheer for the Dash if you must, but know in your heart that you're really rooting for the Winston-Salem Hyphens.
Tanglewood Park, the back yard a Reynolds family gave away
outdoorsTanglewood Park, the back yard a Reynolds family gave away
Most of the mansions built with Winston-Salem's tobacco and textile money stayed private, or eventually became museums you tour by appointment. Tanglewood did something different: the family that owned it just gave the whole thing away.
William Neal Reynolds — R.J.'s brother — bought the property in 1921 and, with his wife Kate, grew it into a working country estate of more than 1,100 acres. At the center of it sits a manor house that started smaller and older than either Reynolds sibling's fortune: built in 1859 as a wedding gift, later expanded under the Reynoldses to 28 rooms. Rather than keep it in the family, William and Kate decided the point of the place was for other people to actually use it, and in 1951 they bequeathed the entire estate to the citizens of Forsyth County as a public park. It's been one ever since. The manor house itself is now a bed-and-breakfast inn, with a Trophy Room and a Rock Fireplace Room you can still book a night in.
What that gift turned into is, frankly, a lot: two championship golf courses designed by Robert Trent Jones Sr. (good enough to have hosted the 1974 PGA Championship, won by Lee Trevino, and fifteen years of the Champions Tour's Vantage Championship after that), a par-3 course, nearly six miles of walking and biking paths, horseback riding through the old farm trails, an 800-bush rose garden and arboretum Kate helped design, fishing and pedal boats on Mallard Lake, a full aquatic center with slides and a splash pad, and a dog park for good measure. In late fall and through the holidays, the whole place turns into the Tanglewood Festival of Lights, a five-mile drive-through display that's become its own regional tradition.
It's the rare case of "the family fortune built it" actually ending with "and then they gave it to everyone," which is a nicer story than most tobacco money leaves behind.
Bowman Gray Stadium and all its lives
sportsBowman Gray Stadium and all its lives
Bowman Gray Stadium — “the Madhouse.” Photo: Greenstrat, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Most stadiums do one thing. Bowman Gray Stadium has spent close to ninety years doing several, and somehow all of them stuck.
It opened May 1, 1938, built as a Depression-era WPA project with a $35,000 gift from Nathalie Gray Bernard in memory of her husband, Bowman Gray Sr., a former president of R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company. The first event was a football game — Duke beat Wake Forest 7–0 that October — and for years afterward the stadium hosted actual NFL preseason games between the Green Bay Packers and Washington's team, plus, from 1956 to 1967, Wake Forest's own home football schedule. Today the field belongs to Winston-Salem State University's football team, on a lease that runs through 2037.
But the nickname — "the Madhouse" — comes from what happens on the quarter-mile flat track that wraps around that field. Stock car racing arrived in 1949, a partnership between NASCAR founder Bill France Sr. and the local Hawkins family, and the track hosted top-tier NASCAR Cup Series races through 1971. After that it settled into what it's still known for: Saturday night Modified-division racing from late April through August, decades running, earning the stadium its billing as the "Home of the Hot Modifieds" — closer, rougher, more contact than a superspeedway, in a bullring built for exactly that. (The "Madhouse" name itself traces partly to a 1950s sportswriter dubbing early star Billy Myers "Master of the Madhouse," a phrase organizers later borrowed for the pre-race lineup format.) In February 2025, NASCAR's Cup Series returned for the first time since 1971 for the preseason exhibition race, "the Clash" — fifty-four years after the top series last ran there, on the same quarter-mile track.
Between the football, the NFL exhibitions, the weekly short-track racing, and now a Cup Series exhibition again, it's hard to think of another stadium this size that's meant this many different things to this many different crowds, almost none of whom would recognize each other.
UNCSA, and the Nutcracker that's been running since 1966
arts & cultureUNCSA, and the Nutcracker that's been running since 1966
The Stevens Center marquee in downtown Winston-Salem, UNCSA's traditional performance home. Photo: DiscoA340, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Winston-Salem has a genuinely unusual credential most visitors never clock: it's home to the first public arts conservatory in the country.
The University of North Carolina School of the Arts was established by the state legislature in 1963 — the vision of then-Governor Terry Sanford and writer John Ehle — and opened its doors in 1965. It's built around five conservatory schools: Dance, Drama, Music, Filmmaking, and Design & Production, teaching roughly 1,400 students from high school through graduate school side by side, with faculty who've come out of places like American Ballet Theatre and the Metropolitan Opera. With eleven performance spaces on campus and a downtown venue besides, it means Winston-Salem has a working conservatory's worth of dance, theater, music, and film screenings open to the public most weeks of the year — not just in December.
December, though, is when the school's most visible tradition takes over the city. UNCSA's production of The Nutcracker was first staged on December 10, 1966, at Reynolds Auditorium, and it's run every year since — the 2025 production marked its 60th anniversary. It's danced entirely by UNCSA students, with the School of Music's own symphony orchestra playing Tchaikovsky's score live in the pit and the School of Design & Production building the sets and costumes, which makes it as much a showcase of the whole conservatory as it is a ballet. It traditionally plays at the Stevens Center downtown, the school's grand old performance hall on Fourth Street.
It's an easy one to build a December weekend around — dinner downtown, a show that's been a local fixture since before most of the houses we rent were built, and a reminder that this small Southern city has spent sixty straight years training the dancers, musicians, and set-builders putting it on.
who keeps showing up in our guestbook
Nurses between shifts. Contractors mid-project. Whole families in town for a wedding. If any of these sound like you, we saved you a page:
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notes people left us
A few pages folks mailed back to us after their stay.
Great place to stay. Scott is a great host! Place is as described.
— Corey
Very responsive host, great location, very clean, and well appointed home.
— Carrie
Scott is an excellent host, the place was as described, I would definitely stay again!
— Jordan
Would stay here again if needed.
— Chermene
Quiet residential neighborhood perfect for our needs visiting family nearby.
— John
Perfect place for our family to stay during our visit.
— Cynthia
Another 5 star stay. Thank you for letting me stay again.
— J J
I felt at home.
— Sheila
Close to Wake Forest. Comfortable place to stay. As advertised.
— Helen
Very comfortable residence. Easy to access town and many shops and restaurants close by.
— David
The house was exactly as described, perfect for our visit. Scott communicated early and often, with clarity and kindness.
— Jeffery
Scott was a great host! He was super accommodating and responsive if I had any questions. Home is beautiful and quiet.
— Jenna
Super nice guy! Very responsive and easy to work with. All hosts could take lessons from this one in how to treat guests.
— Terri
We enjoyed our stay here, and would return again!
— Alexander
Very nice home.. will be staying again..
— Timothy
Quiet street — I slept well.
— Bethany
Great landing spot for a W-S visit. Comfortable beds and character! Easy access and communication.
— Catherine
Scott is very responsive.
— Tiffany
Scott's Hibernation Station was a wonderful place to stay. It was peaceful and clean. Very classy! Just don't feed the bears. LOL!
— Akita
Had a great time here with my family. Scott is a great host and his wife decorated beautifully. Definitely recommend.
— Chris
Very nice, clean and pleasant.
— Debra
the hands behind the hammer (& the throw pillows)
a page about us, since you've made it this far
I'm Scott — a general contractor by trade, which means I've personally remodeled every single one of these houses, stud by stud. My wife Stephanie is the one who makes them actually feel like somewhere you'd want to stay: she does all the design and staging, and when she's not fluffing pillows she's a licensed real estate agent with Keller Williams Realty Elite.
Between the two of us, these homes get built right and dressed up right. Welcome to the family scrapbook — we're really glad you stopped by.
— Scott & Stephanie Robinson