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
Bulletin From The Well
Ever since I got back from the trip down South to see my mother, I\’ve been at the bottom of a CFS well. Whenever I try to scramble up its
Greens, Endless Greens
We\’re deep into stick season here–you know, the weeks after the maples and the sumac and the Virginia creeper drop their leaves (sic transit gloria mundi) and all you see
Wolfie Makes A Statement
Here is a confession: none of the three male dogs I\’ve had in my life–two German Shepherds and one Shitzy-Poo–has ever cocked his leg to pee. The trainers to whom
My Mother, My Hair, And I
I was sitting next to my 92-year-old mother while she ate lunch in the dining room of her assisted living facility. She sat in her wheelchair smiling, pleased that I
Rummage
Tomorrow I\’m leaving for Mobile to see my mother (who was seriously ill a few months ago but is now recovering) and will not be posting for a couple of
My Mother And The Shrunken Head
The head-shrinking (or tzantza) tradition among the Jivaro tribes of the Amazon was alive and well when my parents and I arrived in Ecuador in the 1950s. We first saw
First Fire
Is there anything messier than a wood stove, or a fireplace? Wet, dirt-bearing wood gets carted in from outside, ashes are carted out from inside. There are newspapers, spent matches,
The Power And The Glory, Or, Bzzzt!
For my birthday, my daughter decided to bring my kitchen up to modern standards, and gave me a food processor.Having on my conscience the bread machine and the juicer that
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Bulletin From The Well
Ever since I got back from the trip down South to see my mother, I\’ve been at the bottom of a CFS well. Whenever I try to scramble up its
Greens, Endless Greens
We\’re deep into stick season here–you know, the weeks after the maples and the sumac and the Virginia creeper drop their leaves (sic transit gloria mundi) and all you see
Wolfie Makes A Statement
Here is a confession: none of the three male dogs I\’ve had in my life–two German Shepherds and one Shitzy-Poo–has ever cocked his leg to pee. The trainers to whom
My Mother, My Hair, And I
I was sitting next to my 92-year-old mother while she ate lunch in the dining room of her assisted living facility. She sat in her wheelchair smiling, pleased that I
Rummage
Tomorrow I\’m leaving for Mobile to see my mother (who was seriously ill a few months ago but is now recovering) and will not be posting for a couple of
My Mother And The Shrunken Head
The head-shrinking (or tzantza) tradition among the Jivaro tribes of the Amazon was alive and well when my parents and I arrived in Ecuador in the 1950s. We first saw
First Fire
Is there anything messier than a wood stove, or a fireplace? Wet, dirt-bearing wood gets carted in from outside, ashes are carted out from inside. There are newspapers, spent matches,
The Power And The Glory, Or, Bzzzt!
For my birthday, my daughter decided to bring my kitchen up to modern standards, and gave me a food processor.Having on my conscience the bread machine and the juicer that