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
The Maids, Part Two
When we arrived in Ecuador, my mother was warned by the local ladies that the maids would steal everything. In the 1950s, Ecuador had practically no middle class. Some twenty
The Maids, Part One
Until my parents and I came to the U.S., we always lived with a stranger in our midst: The Maid. The Maid lived with us in our Barcelona apartment, 24/7,
First Failure of the 2010 Gardening Season
Last month, I wrote here about planting spinach in the snow. I have believed unswervingly in this method since I read about it in The Mother Earth News, and have
April Haiku
Red flowers bloom in her wake,Wolfie follows closely:Bisou, in heat.
Shhh….
The quieter things get around here, the more I crave silence. Vermont is a pretty quiet state, and from our yard I can barely hear the cars going by at
In The Grip Of Venus
Bisou is in heat, and I\’ve been thinking about Racine\’s \”Phedre.\” In this 17th century version of the Greek myth, Phedre falls in love with her stepson Hippolyte. She can\’t
Rainy Day Anniversary
Yesterday, a rainy day, was the 42nd anniversary of my father\’s death. Today, another rainy day, I don\’t much feel like writing about what\’s going on outside, so I\’ll write
Can\’t Help Writing About The Weather
All things are relative, and one of the most relative things I know is the weather. Or rather, the perception of weather, specifically, the perception of temperature. In the middle
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
The Maids, Part Two
When we arrived in Ecuador, my mother was warned by the local ladies that the maids would steal everything. In the 1950s, Ecuador had practically no middle class. Some twenty
The Maids, Part One
Until my parents and I came to the U.S., we always lived with a stranger in our midst: The Maid. The Maid lived with us in our Barcelona apartment, 24/7,
First Failure of the 2010 Gardening Season
Last month, I wrote here about planting spinach in the snow. I have believed unswervingly in this method since I read about it in The Mother Earth News, and have
April Haiku
Red flowers bloom in her wake,Wolfie follows closely:Bisou, in heat.
Shhh….
The quieter things get around here, the more I crave silence. Vermont is a pretty quiet state, and from our yard I can barely hear the cars going by at
In The Grip Of Venus
Bisou is in heat, and I\’ve been thinking about Racine\’s \”Phedre.\” In this 17th century version of the Greek myth, Phedre falls in love with her stepson Hippolyte. She can\’t
Rainy Day Anniversary
Yesterday, a rainy day, was the 42nd anniversary of my father\’s death. Today, another rainy day, I don\’t much feel like writing about what\’s going on outside, so I\’ll write
Can\’t Help Writing About The Weather
All things are relative, and one of the most relative things I know is the weather. Or rather, the perception of weather, specifically, the perception of temperature. In the middle