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
Crowing Hen Mystery Continues
I mentioned a while back that I thought one of my six hens was crowing, but I wasn\’t sure. With roosters, there is never a question of whether or not
Hens In Summer
About this time every year I let a few zucchini grow to a hefty size. Some of these I cut up and freeze to make into zucchini bread later, when
The End Of Thyme
I just came in from spending three hours weeding the front walk. This is a stone walk that goes from the driveway to the front door but which, because of
Growing Into His Name
Wolfie\’s real name is Wolfgang, but we call him \”Wolfie,\” pronounced the way Constanze says it to her husband in Amadeus: Voool-fie. Like Constanze\’s husband, our Wolfie in his early
Highly Sensitive Global Nomads
I cannot listen to music while I write. I cannot listen to music while I read. Too much beauty does me in: after two hours in a museum I have
Step By Step
…I am getting used to the idea that my mother will die soon. She\’s like a tree that\’s been hit by two storms in a row. Just as it\’s getting
Itchy Fingers Again
Got another case of itchy fingers a couple of days ago, the specific urge to mold with my thumbs, to hold something in my hands. A palm-sized, three-dimensional object. A
The Blogger\’s Complaint, Or, Why I Write About My Bob
I think I\’m running out of stuff to write about. You may have experienced this yourself–as friends and family turn in increasing numbers to the web, one\’s supply of possible
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Crowing Hen Mystery Continues
I mentioned a while back that I thought one of my six hens was crowing, but I wasn\’t sure. With roosters, there is never a question of whether or not
Hens In Summer
About this time every year I let a few zucchini grow to a hefty size. Some of these I cut up and freeze to make into zucchini bread later, when
The End Of Thyme
I just came in from spending three hours weeding the front walk. This is a stone walk that goes from the driveway to the front door but which, because of
Growing Into His Name
Wolfie\’s real name is Wolfgang, but we call him \”Wolfie,\” pronounced the way Constanze says it to her husband in Amadeus: Voool-fie. Like Constanze\’s husband, our Wolfie in his early
Highly Sensitive Global Nomads
I cannot listen to music while I write. I cannot listen to music while I read. Too much beauty does me in: after two hours in a museum I have
Step By Step
…I am getting used to the idea that my mother will die soon. She\’s like a tree that\’s been hit by two storms in a row. Just as it\’s getting
Itchy Fingers Again
Got another case of itchy fingers a couple of days ago, the specific urge to mold with my thumbs, to hold something in my hands. A palm-sized, three-dimensional object. A
The Blogger\’s Complaint, Or, Why I Write About My Bob
I think I\’m running out of stuff to write about. You may have experienced this yourself–as friends and family turn in increasing numbers to the web, one\’s supply of possible