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
No More Spanish, por favor!
I was in a state of dread watching the second Democratic debate last night, fearing that the candidates would feel obliged to follow in the steps of Beto O\’Rourke and
My Corsetiere
When I was around twelve years old, my brain was still firmly anchored in the clear waters of childhood, but the winds of puberty were blowing my body towards
Pearls
I’m pretty much o.k. with looking my age, whatever that means. I don’t dye my hair or have bits of my anatomy surgically lifted, but I do try, whenever possible,
Ten Thousand Steps
For years we have heard that taking ten thousand steps every day will make you healthier. And you don\’t need special clothing, footwear, or equipment. You can do your walking
My Fox Fantasy
This spring I\’ve been running a fox restaurant in the backyard. I feed the birds, who drop the seeds that feed the squirrels, who are then eaten by my fox.
Only A Woman
When she was seven, the future Saint Teresa ran away with her brother to seek martyrdom among the Moors in Africa. An uncle found them outside the city walls of
Of Birds And Lilies
\”Look at the birds of the air,\” Father Molloy intoned in his Irish brogue. \”They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet the Lord God feeds them.\” Then
Not Forest.Trees!
I am married to a man who pays attention to trees. Me, I\’m a forest gazer. I stand on a mountain and take in acres of green, stretching all the
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
No More Spanish, por favor!
I was in a state of dread watching the second Democratic debate last night, fearing that the candidates would feel obliged to follow in the steps of Beto O\’Rourke and
My Corsetiere
When I was around twelve years old, my brain was still firmly anchored in the clear waters of childhood, but the winds of puberty were blowing my body towards
Pearls
I’m pretty much o.k. with looking my age, whatever that means. I don’t dye my hair or have bits of my anatomy surgically lifted, but I do try, whenever possible,
Ten Thousand Steps
For years we have heard that taking ten thousand steps every day will make you healthier. And you don\’t need special clothing, footwear, or equipment. You can do your walking
My Fox Fantasy
This spring I\’ve been running a fox restaurant in the backyard. I feed the birds, who drop the seeds that feed the squirrels, who are then eaten by my fox.
Only A Woman
When she was seven, the future Saint Teresa ran away with her brother to seek martyrdom among the Moors in Africa. An uncle found them outside the city walls of
Of Birds And Lilies
\”Look at the birds of the air,\” Father Molloy intoned in his Irish brogue. \”They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet the Lord God feeds them.\” Then
Not Forest.Trees!
I am married to a man who pays attention to trees. Me, I\’m a forest gazer. I stand on a mountain and take in acres of green, stretching all the