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

Curls vs. Waves
I went on YouTube for advice on my pandemic hair, which was last cut on February 5, 2020, and found dozens of sites that help women to deal with curly
Organ Recitals
“Then the podiatrist looked at my little toe and said, ‘Lady, what you have is a…’” But just as things are about to get interesting my friend claps her

Ant Jihad (with apologies to E. O. Wilson)
At first, only a few scouts showed up in the mudroom. They ran discreetly along the base of the walls, and I was not alarmed. \”It\’s a sign of spring\”

Smells
My mother has just rung the bell of my paternal grandparents’ apartment in Barcelona when she spots a smudge of chocolate on my chin. She whips a handkerchief out of

Not Yet
It may be my Catholic upbringing–suffer first on this earth, then get your reward in heaven–but I believe that only those who have endured a northern winter can truly enjoy

Little Phobias
The pandemic is abating, the world is slowly opening up, and for almost everyone this is great news. But for hermits, introverts, highly sensitive persons, and molluscoid types like me,

Chicken Nostalgia
I dashed into the hardware store the other day, looking for niger seeds for my finches, and, this being Vermont and almost spring, I walked by a display of sugaring

Love and Work
“If I died tomorrow,” my mother used to say, “your father would mourn for the rest of his life. But if they took away his violin, he’d be dead within
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts

Curls vs. Waves
I went on YouTube for advice on my pandemic hair, which was last cut on February 5, 2020, and found dozens of sites that help women to deal with curly
Organ Recitals
“Then the podiatrist looked at my little toe and said, ‘Lady, what you have is a…’” But just as things are about to get interesting my friend claps her

Ant Jihad (with apologies to E. O. Wilson)
At first, only a few scouts showed up in the mudroom. They ran discreetly along the base of the walls, and I was not alarmed. \”It\’s a sign of spring\”

Smells
My mother has just rung the bell of my paternal grandparents’ apartment in Barcelona when she spots a smudge of chocolate on my chin. She whips a handkerchief out of

Not Yet
It may be my Catholic upbringing–suffer first on this earth, then get your reward in heaven–but I believe that only those who have endured a northern winter can truly enjoy

Little Phobias
The pandemic is abating, the world is slowly opening up, and for almost everyone this is great news. But for hermits, introverts, highly sensitive persons, and molluscoid types like me,

Chicken Nostalgia
I dashed into the hardware store the other day, looking for niger seeds for my finches, and, this being Vermont and almost spring, I walked by a display of sugaring

Love and Work
“If I died tomorrow,” my mother used to say, “your father would mourn for the rest of his life. But if they took away his violin, he’d be dead within