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
Goats In Mourning
Sorry to write about dark stuff in this merry season, but today is the darkest day of the year, at least in our hemisphere, so here goes. Yesterday, the baby
The Snail
My five-year-old grandson spent several days in Vermont last June. He and his sister, who live in Philadelphia, rejoiced in their contacts with the local wild life: “Look, a butterfly!
Frozen Egg
Found a frozen egg in the nest last night. How did I know it was frozen? Because the contents had expanded and the shell had a beautiful thin crack running
J.S. Bach And Holiday Stress
I don\’t know about you, but a lot of Christmas music makes me nervous. I hear Jingle Bells and my breath begins to tighten, and the Rudolf song gives me
Belated Potpourri
I made my belated potpourri today. It\’s belated because, in order for the content of the pot to become properly pourri (which means rotten…but a lot of almost-rotten things are
Slow Down, Bisou!
I know you think you have wings, Bisou, but you don\’t, so please slow down. I have watched you a million times: no sooner does an idea hit you–there\’s a
A Matter Of Manners
Here are my shoes. Put them on for a minute and tell me what you would do. Several months ago, the daughter of dear friends of ours got married. Before
House Training Lament
Bisou, Bisou, what is going on with you? You will be five months old tomorrow, a well-grown pup in every way, lithe, well muscled, agile and coordinated. In just another
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Goats In Mourning
Sorry to write about dark stuff in this merry season, but today is the darkest day of the year, at least in our hemisphere, so here goes. Yesterday, the baby
The Snail
My five-year-old grandson spent several days in Vermont last June. He and his sister, who live in Philadelphia, rejoiced in their contacts with the local wild life: “Look, a butterfly!
Frozen Egg
Found a frozen egg in the nest last night. How did I know it was frozen? Because the contents had expanded and the shell had a beautiful thin crack running
J.S. Bach And Holiday Stress
I don\’t know about you, but a lot of Christmas music makes me nervous. I hear Jingle Bells and my breath begins to tighten, and the Rudolf song gives me
Belated Potpourri
I made my belated potpourri today. It\’s belated because, in order for the content of the pot to become properly pourri (which means rotten…but a lot of almost-rotten things are
Slow Down, Bisou!
I know you think you have wings, Bisou, but you don\’t, so please slow down. I have watched you a million times: no sooner does an idea hit you–there\’s a
A Matter Of Manners
Here are my shoes. Put them on for a minute and tell me what you would do. Several months ago, the daughter of dear friends of ours got married. Before
House Training Lament
Bisou, Bisou, what is going on with you? You will be five months old tomorrow, a well-grown pup in every way, lithe, well muscled, agile and coordinated. In just another