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
Art, In This Economy
This is Open Studio weekend around here, when painters, sculptors, glass workers, furniture makers and other servants of Art and Beauty clean their brushes, sweep out the stone chips, mow
My Not-So-Green Life
The juxtaposition of the ever-worsening news about the Gulf oil spill and our almost-two-day-long power outage has got me into a dither about the environment. Gaia knows, we try to
Powerless
We had a huge storm two nights ago. The wind came screaming up out of nowhere and the lightning was all around. Poor old Lexi, who never comes upstairs if
Culling
Despite the supposed scarcity of honey bees, the majority of blooms on my two little apple trees managed to get fertilized. When the petals fell off, each former flower cluster
What\’s With This Weather?
Tomorrow will be the third day in a row of temperatures in the high 80s/low 90s. The plant life around here is revved up to max: the irises have shot
Other Indians
In the 1950s, Santo Domingo de los Colorados* was a village ( it\’s a city now) in the western part of Ecuador, between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean. It
First Indians
We saw them right away, walking by the side of the highway between the airport and Quito. He was trotting along on a donkey, wearing calf-length pants, a poncho, a
First Flight
It was 1954, and we were leaving. We were taking off. We were going to America.* The America we were going to was in the South–Ecuador. I was only ten
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Art, In This Economy
This is Open Studio weekend around here, when painters, sculptors, glass workers, furniture makers and other servants of Art and Beauty clean their brushes, sweep out the stone chips, mow
My Not-So-Green Life
The juxtaposition of the ever-worsening news about the Gulf oil spill and our almost-two-day-long power outage has got me into a dither about the environment. Gaia knows, we try to
Powerless
We had a huge storm two nights ago. The wind came screaming up out of nowhere and the lightning was all around. Poor old Lexi, who never comes upstairs if
Culling
Despite the supposed scarcity of honey bees, the majority of blooms on my two little apple trees managed to get fertilized. When the petals fell off, each former flower cluster
What\’s With This Weather?
Tomorrow will be the third day in a row of temperatures in the high 80s/low 90s. The plant life around here is revved up to max: the irises have shot
Other Indians
In the 1950s, Santo Domingo de los Colorados* was a village ( it\’s a city now) in the western part of Ecuador, between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean. It
First Indians
We saw them right away, walking by the side of the highway between the airport and Quito. He was trotting along on a donkey, wearing calf-length pants, a poncho, a
First Flight
It was 1954, and we were leaving. We were taking off. We were going to America.* The America we were going to was in the South–Ecuador. I was only ten