Category Archives: Ann Arbor
There isn’t much I’ve enjoyed more recently than watching Clive—Clive Snails Lewis, to give him his full title—wrap his slimy self around a carrot.
But I will say that—for me—being confined to my home has sometimes felt liberating in a small and quiet way.
Out of the corner of my eye, a grey bolt of lightning shot out from behind the gothic-style church on the corner across from North Quad.
Why would I give up my dog?
Some ground rules: I’ve committed to collecting every piece of trashable, recyclable, or compostable waste I generate for a full week.
Two important facts: first, there are two doors leading into this bathroom, one from the hallway and one from my housemate’s bedroom. Second, a deadbolt on the bathroom-hallway door allows it to be locked from the inside.
I decided to put my money where my mouth has been since I started touting the importance of small-scale local agriculture six years ago.
Reaching through the grated door, I run a fingertip along the tiny white foreleg of a tiny white lamb curled on the straw inside. He slid into the world less than a week ago beside his glossy black sister.
Since moving to Ann Arbor, I’ve encountered more panhandlers in two years than I’d seen in the preceding twenty-three. And every time, no matter how bedraggled or desperate they appear, I always truck right past.