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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.
There\’s a limit to the amount of narrative suspense I\’m willing to inflict on my readers, so I\’ll say right now that we\’re fine: spouse, self, and the three dogs.
Went to a meeting of women of a certain age yesterday to talk about mothers and daughters. The room was crowded, and I couldn\’t help wondering what an equivalent meeting
In these days when violins small enough to fit into a diaper bag are thrust into the hands of toddlers, my granddaughter Violette started taking lessons at the relatively late
It was the only item on my Christmas list, and it was underlined three times, and Santa, bless his heart, got the message. I have my own Kindle now, in
This is another post about CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). You should know that it is a good sign when I write about this illness, since when I am in relapse
But I\’ll be back in the new year.
I grew up on the Mediterranean diet–the real thing, not the kinder, gentler version popularized in the U.S. by a culinary and nutritional establishment compensating for decades of over-consumption of
There\’s a limit to the amount of narrative suspense I\’m willing to inflict on my readers, so I\’ll say right now that we\’re fine: spouse, self, and the three dogs.
Went to a meeting of women of a certain age yesterday to talk about mothers and daughters. The room was crowded, and I couldn\’t help wondering what an equivalent meeting
In these days when violins small enough to fit into a diaper bag are thrust into the hands of toddlers, my granddaughter Violette started taking lessons at the relatively late
It was the only item on my Christmas list, and it was underlined three times, and Santa, bless his heart, got the message. I have my own Kindle now, in
This is another post about CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). You should know that it is a good sign when I write about this illness, since when I am in relapse
But I\’ll be back in the new year.
I grew up on the Mediterranean diet–the real thing, not the kinder, gentler version popularized in the U.S. by a culinary and nutritional establishment compensating for decades of over-consumption of