A Spring Day\’s Thoughts About Death
Today I accompanied my spouse to have one of those tests that, according to the medical establishment, ensures that adults of a certain age will stave off death until…whenever. In
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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. Got bored with teaching, took up running, and went into higher ed administration. 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.
Today I accompanied my spouse to have one of those tests that, according to the medical establishment, ensures that adults of a certain age will stave off death until…whenever. In
Coming back from dinner with friends, I went straight to the chicken house to shut the hens in for the night. As I changed from my dressy clogs (in Vermont
Tonight, for the first time since last fall, we\’re having a fresh salad: lettuce from the transplants I put in a mere two weeks ago, augmented by a bunch of
Do you know the Honey In The Rock rendition of the spiritual: \”Wade in the water,Wade in the water,Wade in the water, childrenMy God\’s gonna trouble the water…\”? Today, sunny
When I looked outside this morning, it was evident that the porcupine had been about. Carefully skirting the pieces of salted apple leading up to the trap, he had walked
Two nights ago, I saw him. I was driving the truck up the driveway after dinner out with a friend, and there he was, glued to the post between the
Came back from Rutland with what looked like a Happy Meals box containing eight hen chicks, all of them small enough to fit inside an egg carton. Like everything else
I blinked and the season changed from deep winter to 84F in the north side of the house. Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I planted peas this morning–these
Today I accompanied my spouse to have one of those tests that, according to the medical establishment, ensures that adults of a certain age will stave off death until…whenever. In
Coming back from dinner with friends, I went straight to the chicken house to shut the hens in for the night. As I changed from my dressy clogs (in Vermont
Tonight, for the first time since last fall, we\’re having a fresh salad: lettuce from the transplants I put in a mere two weeks ago, augmented by a bunch of
Do you know the Honey In The Rock rendition of the spiritual: \”Wade in the water,Wade in the water,Wade in the water, childrenMy God\’s gonna trouble the water…\”? Today, sunny
When I looked outside this morning, it was evident that the porcupine had been about. Carefully skirting the pieces of salted apple leading up to the trap, he had walked
Two nights ago, I saw him. I was driving the truck up the driveway after dinner out with a friend, and there he was, glued to the post between the
Came back from Rutland with what looked like a Happy Meals box containing eight hen chicks, all of them small enough to fit inside an egg carton. Like everything else
I blinked and the season changed from deep winter to 84F in the north side of the house. Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I planted peas this morning–these