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
Mantillas
In Spain, when I was growing up in the 1950s, women wore mantillas to church. These were gorgeous embroidered affairs, white for unmarried girls and black for married women. Anchored
Swimming Lessons
My mother believed that for a girl to make her way in society she should, in addition to speaking a foreign language or two, know how to swim and play
The Mediocre Meditator\’s Prayer
Dear Goddess/God/Ground of Being/Universe, Here I am again, on my cushion, chair, or mat, with my breath, and bones, and heart. Oh, and my monkey mind, too. Already the macaques
Enlightenment at the Vet\’s
Spent half of Sunday last week at the emergency vet clinic with Bisou. As animals came in they were triaged, and since Bisou was not in dire straits (her problem
First Day of School
I started school when I was six, and until I entered that first-grade classroom I cannot remember having been in the presence of another child my age. The school was
Dilemma
Had three appointments with service providers this week, and they went something like this: The hairdresser parted my wet hair into sections, picked up the scissors and said, “And what
My Inner Snail
Donat pressa!my mother urged at the door of our apartment, as I searched everywhere for my chapel veil. We were on our way to Mass, and if we didn’t get
Telemann and the Spider Plant
He glares down at me like a gargoyle from the top of the six-foot bookcase, lashes his tail, blinks. “What!” he says, and goes back to administering the death by
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Mantillas
In Spain, when I was growing up in the 1950s, women wore mantillas to church. These were gorgeous embroidered affairs, white for unmarried girls and black for married women. Anchored
Swimming Lessons
My mother believed that for a girl to make her way in society she should, in addition to speaking a foreign language or two, know how to swim and play
The Mediocre Meditator\’s Prayer
Dear Goddess/God/Ground of Being/Universe, Here I am again, on my cushion, chair, or mat, with my breath, and bones, and heart. Oh, and my monkey mind, too. Already the macaques
Enlightenment at the Vet\’s
Spent half of Sunday last week at the emergency vet clinic with Bisou. As animals came in they were triaged, and since Bisou was not in dire straits (her problem
First Day of School
I started school when I was six, and until I entered that first-grade classroom I cannot remember having been in the presence of another child my age. The school was
Dilemma
Had three appointments with service providers this week, and they went something like this: The hairdresser parted my wet hair into sections, picked up the scissors and said, “And what
My Inner Snail
Donat pressa!my mother urged at the door of our apartment, as I searched everywhere for my chapel veil. We were on our way to Mass, and if we didn’t get
Telemann and the Spider Plant
He glares down at me like a gargoyle from the top of the six-foot bookcase, lashes his tail, blinks. “What!” he says, and goes back to administering the death by