Some of you may recall the first part of this tale, told a few times here in passing over the years. But now the tale has a 2nd, more bizarre part.
Back about 1998 or so, the Mrs. and I rented out the old farmhouse (built circa 1850) on our property to a couple in their late 40’s. Let’s call them Mr. and Mrs. Frerint. They were religiously very conservative, suspicious of government, and active in the anti-abortion movement to the extreme. Yet they brought many good qualities as renters. They paid in cash, he was a handyman who could fix anything, and when we told them we were pro-choice they shut up about their ideas, and we got along quite well for the next few years. He did excellent work keeping up and even improving the rental property, and doing services and repairs elsewhere for me, speedily and economically. He was a good man with some odd (and to me unpalatable) ideas.
But as Y2K approached, Mr. Frerint expressed his belief that world society would collapse, based both on man’s overweening pride, sins against god, and technological stupidity. He wasn’t overbearing in his viewpoint about this, but he let me know he was preparing. And that I should come to him after the apocalypse for help. I didn’t inquire as to the extent of his preparations, but I knew he’d gotten a generator and laid in some supplies. And had made plans. Lots of them.
Well, Y2K came and went with nary a twitch, and Mr. Frerint was in public apparently only somewhat chagrined, and seemed to pick up and carry on with his life. Sadly, two years later he was killed in a traffic accident, and eventually his widow decided to move out. In helping her move, we found HUUUUUUGE supplies of food stores in the basement, including 55 gallon drums of dried beans, shelves and shelves of canned foods and preserves, etc. etc. But we got her loaded up and out, and the rest of the place was immaculate. She and her family disposed of their basement food stores, but where I do not know. Other renters moved in and out over the subsequent years, no troubles.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. My new renter has moved a lot of his equipment into the farmhouse, and my barn. he notices a damp spot in one corner of the barn, and digs deep enough to find a shaft filled with a couple of buckets, with water at the bottom. We think we’ve found an old, previously unknown (to me at least) well. We rent a digger, and while I’m away at work today, the renter and his fiancee and Mrs. Mercotan dig it out.
They find: 58 three gallon plastic buckets set on wood pallets, in a deep hole, with a rubber mat floor, and covered over with rubber. It’s a huuuge hole, filled with water in which some of the buckets are floating.
They are laboriously and muddily hauled out one by one, and found to have writing on them, labelling their contents: White rice, brown rice, hard white berries; hard red beans, dehydrated eggs, sugar, brown sugar, spelt, dehydrated milk, wheat, oats, salt, vanilla, pectin, baby lima beans, and 5 single gallon jugs of either molasses or maple syrup. Also one huge bucket of chocolate chips. (I tried one, it as mediocre.) In addition, there were a LOT of old coffee cans, which had rusted out and spilled their contents. Also a few illegibly marked buckets to be examined later.
Now I’ve got a huge mudhole in the corner of my barn (slowly drying out, thankfully) and a sh**load of buckets of mixed foodstuffs to dispose of. And the suspicion that perhaps I should search thru the content of the buckets to see if he’s squirreled away gold bullion or other valuables in all this crap.
We did contact his widow, and she denies recalling anything about a secret cache in the barn. She told us to keep whatever we found and not worry about it.
Well, Saturday is Dump Day (excuse me, Town recycling center day) and I have an ambitious renter who will haul all the stuff away for me, and fill in the hole with gravel once it’s dried out. Still, it’s a PITA to deal with.
But even with that I had to laugh. That is so just like my old tenant. And I do wonder what else Mr. Frerint cached away on my property that’s still awaiting discovery.
And if anyone wants some nearly 16 year old chocolate chips (3 gallons worth), speak up quick!
(Assuming that doesn’t take too long, because pretty evidently you have a water infiltration issue there.)