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"Simple living, sensible choices. It is not about living in poverty or self-inflicted deprivation. Rather, it is about living an examined life--one in which you have determined what is important, or enough, for you, discarding the rest."
-- author unknownMy name is Karen, aka CayceQuilter. I am a transplanted city girl who has always had a very country heart. I moved to rural MS from California, and they couldn't pay me to go back. (Sorry, Californians.) I have 3 children, Jason (25) who lives on the west coast, & E. Dawson (22) who lives up north, plus Jesse who is 9. And I am grandmother to Jason's children, Kailee and Sarra Lilien.
When I moved into this little bit of heaven 15 years ago, I was so excited. I read every issue of Backwoods Magazine and Countryside Stock Journal, and anything else I could get my hands on. I eagerly visited the local extension office, but they were not very helpful. I left with a pile of flyers and the advice that "there really isn't anything you can do to make money at home." Honestly. That is what the extension agent told me.
My home came with 2 dogs that had been born and raised here. The trouble was they chased and killed every living thing, except people. When I brought home my first chickens one got out as I was taking the cage out of the car and the dogs killed it in 2 seconds. Well, I had gotten bantams because I was told they'd not let a dog catch them. Ha! After a week I let the other 2 out and they didn't last 5 mintues before the dogs killed them both, even with me screaming and hollering and throwing things at the dogs. Well, I can't blame the dogs, it's just their nature, but I cried anyway.
Undaunted (well, only slightly daunted), I found someone selling baby pigs and went to bring some home. Getting the little guys home was an adventure in itself. I had an ancient pickup truck and I showed up at the farm, in the rain, all ready to put the pigs in the back the way the dogs ride. The farmer laughed his head off and said I could use this nasty, dirty, tiny wooden dog house to get them home. He wrestled it, all muddy and filthy, onto the truck. I tried to help without touching anything dirty. The farmer, laughing again, squeezed the pigs inside since I was afraid of them. I felt so bad because they were squashed and couldn't move, so I raced home as fast as I could. Then the real fun began.
I put the pigs in their small pasture and gave them lots of food and water. But as soon as I turned around there went the little pigs trotting through the trees and the dogs in hot pursuit. I tied up the dogs temporarily while we checked the fence. I put in a few stakes and put the pigs, who I had named Tupelo and Cayce, into the pen again. As soon as I turned around they were out again. We played this little game for 2 days. I felt too awful keeping the dogs tied up and I was frustrated that the pigs wouldn't stay in, so I finally called the farmer and he came to take them home. At least he gave me half my money back. Guess you could say I just rented the pigs.
There's been a lot of water under the bridge since those early days. Now I have herb gardens, flower gardens, rose gardens, the beginnings of an orchard, and also, on and off, vegetable gardens. I had chickens for a few years in between also, but working full time in Memphis didn't leave me time to take care of them as well as I would have liked. But now that I'm semi-retired, we're up to 18 hens and 3 roosters. We also are making preparations for 2 goats we hope to have by the end of the year.
You can read more about me and my tiny farm in my blog: barberms.blogspot.com
Here are some links for Country Women like me: