Welcome to My Green Vermont
I was born in Barcelona, where I went to a school run by German nuns, studied solfeggio, and played the violin. When I was ten, my parents and I moved to Ecuador, where I had a number of exotic pets and strange adventures. Four years later, we landed in Birmingham, Alabama. None of us spoke English, and the strange adventures continued. (Many of these appear in My Green Vermont.)
Survived high school. Got B.A. in French and Biology, Ph.D. in Romance Languages (French and Spanish). Gave up the Church and the violin, got married, had two daughters, taught at a liberal arts college in Maryland. Also grew veggies, made bread, kept chickens, milked goats, and wrote for newspapers and magazines. I got bored with teaching, took up running, and went into higher ed administration. I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS), and learned to live in a totally different way.
I started My Green Vermont when we moved to that state. For ten years I lived with my spouse, three dogs, twelve hens, two goats, and assorted passing wildlife in a house on a hill, surrounded by fields and woods. In 2014, we moved to a cottage in a continuing care residential community near Lake Champlain. Gave up livestock and vegetable gardening in favor of wild birds, honeybees, a little red dog, and a gray cat.
My Green Vermont is a fertile compost pile made up of stories about the weirdness of growing up in three countries and three languages; portraits of beloved animals, both wild and domestic; and reflections on aging, being kind to the earth, and staying as calm as possible. I hope you will visit often, and add your own stories and reactions.
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Of Birds And Bears
It’s hard to get anything right these days. Take the feeding of backyard birds. What more innocent pastime can there be? And it’s more than simply entertaining. It is—or at
The Boy Who Cleared the Dishes
The boy who cleared the dishes for his mother at my first Thanksgiving in America was not particularly handsome. His name was Tom, and I don’t think he said a
My First Thanksgiving
The time: the late 1950s The place: Birmingham, Alabama My mother, my father, and I are driving home after Thanksgiving dinner with an American family. “What a meal!” my mother
The New, Improved Dog Walk
Old dog training books were all about dominance, and one of the best ways to show your dog who was boss was by training her to heel. Whenever my dog
A Glimpse of Stocking
As a person of venerable age, I have lived through the evolution of countless objects and materials, from dip pens to word processors, rotary phones to mobiles, and paper, leather,
A Bruising Stick Season
We’re heading into what Vermonters call “stick season,” the time of year after the last crimson leaf has dropped from the last maple tree and before the first snow covers
The Little Donkeys of Palestine
For millennia, the semi-arid lands around the Mediterranean bore the imprint of donkeys’ hooves. From Gibraltar to Galilee, donkeys carried burdens, tilled the fields, and endured whatever humans imposed on
The Introvert’s Complaint
(Written during this past weekend) There is a block party in my neighborhood this afternoon, and I’m not going. I have not made this decision lightly. But it is causing
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Of Birds And Bears
It’s hard to get anything right these days. Take the feeding of backyard birds. What more innocent pastime can there be? And it’s more than simply entertaining. It is—or at
The Boy Who Cleared the Dishes
The boy who cleared the dishes for his mother at my first Thanksgiving in America was not particularly handsome. His name was Tom, and I don’t think he said a
My First Thanksgiving
The time: the late 1950s The place: Birmingham, Alabama My mother, my father, and I are driving home after Thanksgiving dinner with an American family. “What a meal!” my mother
The New, Improved Dog Walk
Old dog training books were all about dominance, and one of the best ways to show your dog who was boss was by training her to heel. Whenever my dog
A Glimpse of Stocking
As a person of venerable age, I have lived through the evolution of countless objects and materials, from dip pens to word processors, rotary phones to mobiles, and paper, leather,
A Bruising Stick Season
We’re heading into what Vermonters call “stick season,” the time of year after the last crimson leaf has dropped from the last maple tree and before the first snow covers
The Little Donkeys of Palestine
For millennia, the semi-arid lands around the Mediterranean bore the imprint of donkeys’ hooves. From Gibraltar to Galilee, donkeys carried burdens, tilled the fields, and endured whatever humans imposed on
The Introvert’s Complaint
(Written during this past weekend) There is a block party in my neighborhood this afternoon, and I’m not going. I have not made this decision lightly. But it is causing