Mail Call: March/April 2012

By Grit Staff
Published on January 25, 2012
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Alan Easley, Columbia, Missouri, made a feeder by recycling an old pickup bed liner and a tire.
Alan Easley, Columbia, Missouri, made a feeder by recycling an old pickup bed liner and a tire.
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Buddy, Karen and the Victorian, also known as Karenā€™s Carriage.
Buddy, Karen and the Victorian, also known as Karenā€™s Carriage.
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Alan Easleyā€™s recycled pickup bed liner and tire feeder works great in the pasture.
Alan Easleyā€™s recycled pickup bed liner and tire feeder works great in the pasture.

My good lifeĀ Ā 

I have been a subscriber for several years now, and I always look forward to my new copy of GRIT. I have been living a natural life since 1982 when I picked up my first copy of Mother Earth News. I started with quail in a large cage under my apartment window. I had enough fresh eggs to enjoy on weekends — the only time I had to enjoy breakfast. As time passed, I raised a family on a private three-quarter-acre lot in southwestern Ohio. We had a large garden, and I would can up to 300 quarts of produce a season. My husband hunted and fished, and I raised rabbits and chickens. I put in all kinds of fruit trees, and we always had plenty of food.

Here it is years later, and I’m off on a new venture. I now have six acres, and I still garden, can, and raise our own food. However, realizing I would probably not get to retire as one would normally conceptualize retirement (I’m 54 and plan to retire at 62), I have started a new business for supplemental income now and in the future.

I have always dreamed of driving a carriage, and I have owned horses for the last 15 years, so keeping one more equine would be no problem. So, when a neighbor had a runabout cart and harness for sale, I bought them and let everyone know I was looking for a horse to drive. The same neighbor called me two years ago and told me about a horse.

When I went to look at the horse, there was a fellow riding it. Well, I didn’t want a horse to ride, and I had brought long reins with me, so I took the reins off the horse’s bridle, ran my long reins through the stirrups and hooked them to the bit. I drove him around enough to know that he would drive, and away I went with a Haflinger.

The horse, Buddy, had been trained by the Amish, but was afraid of a lot of things – mailboxes, bicycles, manhole covers and street markings to name a few. I drove him with the cart for more than a year, getting him used to a not-so-rural life.

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