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 Karen’s Carriage.
Buddy, Karen and the Victorian, also known as Karen’s Carriage.
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Alan Easley’s recycled pickup bed liner and tire feeder works great in the pasture.
Alan Easley’s recycled pickup bed liner and tire feeder works great in the pasture.

My good life  

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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