I was so hungry.

I am in Elliott, IN and wanted to go to our place in Spencer County.  It is right next to where Abraham Lincoln grew up and I have always felt a connection to it.  My Dad says it is because the Spencer County farm is where I was conceived.

In any case, I wanted to go up there and so got a ride.  It is about 45 minutes away on highway 162.  On the way, I bought a bag of ice and a bottle of Port.  One can’t have a nice evening at one’s country place without a nice Port, you know… I did not, however, buy any food because I know that my Dad and his friends hunt deer up there and there is always lots of canned goods.

So I get to the farm after a comedy of errors and realize I didn’t bring the right key.  No problem.  I took the door off the hinges by removing the pins.

Once I get inside I realize that no one has been here for at least 7 years.  SEVEN YEARS.

The inside is a mess of mouse nests and snakes have shed their skins in every tight crevice possible. Also: Raccoons.  Turns out I will have guests with my Port for my country evening.  No problem.

I start clearing away the fire-pit that had been overgrown by Sassafras trees and got my firewood together for the night.  I looked at the cupboard and saw two shelves of canned goods. 

Jackpot.

I got a fire going and opened a can of potato soup.  As it plopped into the pan I thought it looked odd.  I chalked it up to the freeze-thaw cycles that have happened over the seasons, but then hesitated and thought it was a good idea that I should look at the expiration dates. Oh, my.  My potato soup had a best if used by date of 2002.

I was so hungry I thought about taking the chance – the nearest grocery or gas station is miles away. But then I thought better of it and started looking through the cans…

I didn’t get a chance to eat much tonight.  All of the food is expired by at least 6 years and the only thing viable in the past five is the coffee.  Instead, I cracked open the Port and went out into the treeline to gather a local wild green: Lambsquarter. I boiled it up and had a couple of cups of it. If you have never eaten it, let me tell you it is quite good – milder than spinach with just the slightest pecan-ish nutty flavor.

As soon as I ate my wild-man dinner I started making really bad decisions.

As it turns out, if you haven’t been on an abandoned farm that has two unmarked and overgrown cisterns, four dilapidated outbuildings, and enough wildlife to stock four counties in more than seven years, you should probably not go wandering around in the dark looking for big dead trees to knock down and burn after having had a little more than half a bottle of Port.  At the very least take a flashlight.

Also: Once you find the cistern that hasn’t been used in 40+ years, best practice is that you should 1. Not try to draw water when drunk and 2. Not drink or use said water before boiling.

Breaking all the rules!

(I am lucky I didn’t 1. fall in and 2. Get Typhoid.)