MarvHen was the last of our original chickens. And while the chickens we’ve added alongside her received names from our kids, I don’t remember them. I’m not sure anyone does at this point.
I’ve come to learn that our animals aren’t pets; they are a responsibility. I love them, but it’s different than loving our dog Jersey The Pitbull (who would totally love to kill all of the chickens). Jersey is a member of our family; MarvHen provided our family delicious eggs for three years. Jersey’s death will be a sad day at our family. MarvHen’s death is like hearing the news that some not-too-close friends are moving away. A bummer, but time and people and chickens and life and…
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The Rings
My friends Dave and Sara Ring own and operate an organic grocery store in my hometown of Muncie, Indiana.
I wrote about them in my book Where Am I Eating?”:
“The Downtown Farm Stand is located in the heart of Muncie. Like our food moving overseas, like farmers moving to the burbs, life in Muncie has moved to McGalliard Road, a long strip of middle America strip malls and every chain restaurant a binge eater could want. The Farm Stand is the only place downtown where Munsonians can buy groceries these days.”
Recently Dave and Sara announced that for a variety of reasons, including declining grocery and deli sales, their store…
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(Cliff playing a song for Enemias)
When I was in Colombia learning from the Arhuaco about their relationship with nature, my friend Cliff accompanied me. Cliff is a talented musician and photographer. (And he is exhibiting his work on Saturday December 10th at 201 E. Charles St. Muncie, IN 47305, starting at 2 pm and ending with some words and music from Cliff at 7 pm.)
The Arhuaco are an Indigenous People who live in the Sierra Nevada mountains of northern Colombia. Like most Indigenous People around the world, they’ve had less than favorable interactions with the outsiders. They were hesitant to have us visit and much of our first day was spent sitting with one of their spiritual leaders, who had…
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Winter is almost here and the field beyond the auction sign looks like a desert. Corn stalks as tumbleweeds. Lifeless soil, dusty as sand. Vultures feasting on mammals that couldn’t outrun the reaping.
It’s a windy day in Indiana, and if you picked up a handful of dirt and threw it into the air, it would blow to the highway? The next county? The Sahel?
Yesterday a mammal lifted a bidding number and bid $15,000 per acre for the land. To be clear, the animal was a human. Although the mental image of a raccoon lifting up a number with its five, long, tapered raccoon hands, little nails scratching on the paper, is one I’d like to sit…
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