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
Recycling
Every fall, armies of mice invade people\’s basements in Vermont. These are not the rat-like city mice, but adorable little country mice with big ears, bright little eyes set wide
School For Mothers
The year I turned sixteen I could be found after school washing diapers, scrubbing bottles, and mixing formula. I wasn\’t a teenage mother. My parents, after sixteen years of vain
Goat Confessions
I\’ve been a bit of a hypocrite here lately, nattering on about paying attention, wanting what I have, doing more with less. The truth is, dear readers, I have been
Words That Stayed With Me
I was eleven years old and about to step on the stage to play a solo violin arrangement of Schubert\’s Overture to Rosamunde in a recital of my father\’s students.
Morning With Chickens
When the weather is really cold and the wind is blowing, I keep the door of the chicken coop closed and the light on. Poor Charlemagne\’s magnificent comb and wattles
Dog Salon
This morning, while a blizzard raged outside, I held one of my periodic dog salons. The beauty, not the intellectual kind. Grooming is not my favorite dog-related activity. I get
My Vow Of Celibacy
When I lived in Ecuador, the difference between the Spanish and the Ecuadorean school systems caused me to be advanced three grades, so that when I was twelve, my classmates
Paying Attention
As this long, cold winter stretches on, I am cultivating the art of paying attention. Here\’s my winter whine: with the extreme cold my sphere of activity has shrunk dramatically.
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Recycling
Every fall, armies of mice invade people\’s basements in Vermont. These are not the rat-like city mice, but adorable little country mice with big ears, bright little eyes set wide
School For Mothers
The year I turned sixteen I could be found after school washing diapers, scrubbing bottles, and mixing formula. I wasn\’t a teenage mother. My parents, after sixteen years of vain
Goat Confessions
I\’ve been a bit of a hypocrite here lately, nattering on about paying attention, wanting what I have, doing more with less. The truth is, dear readers, I have been
Words That Stayed With Me
I was eleven years old and about to step on the stage to play a solo violin arrangement of Schubert\’s Overture to Rosamunde in a recital of my father\’s students.
Morning With Chickens
When the weather is really cold and the wind is blowing, I keep the door of the chicken coop closed and the light on. Poor Charlemagne\’s magnificent comb and wattles
Dog Salon
This morning, while a blizzard raged outside, I held one of my periodic dog salons. The beauty, not the intellectual kind. Grooming is not my favorite dog-related activity. I get
My Vow Of Celibacy
When I lived in Ecuador, the difference between the Spanish and the Ecuadorean school systems caused me to be advanced three grades, so that when I was twelve, my classmates
Paying Attention
As this long, cold winter stretches on, I am cultivating the art of paying attention. Here\’s my winter whine: with the extreme cold my sphere of activity has shrunk dramatically.