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
Frida Y Yo
On bad days I think of Frida, nailed to her bed by pain, staring up at the ceiling, wondering when her husband, the painter Diego Rivera, a man as round
What Wisdom, Where?
When eating organic/vegetarian/gluten free, working out at the gym, and drinking eight glasses of water a day cease to delay the inevitable, baby boomers console themselves by thinking that, although
Zen and the Recorder
Now that I have entered my eighth decade, I am learning to play the recorder. There is no time to lose, so I practice daily, much to Bisou\’s dismay. The
Leaving The House
Lake Champlain is frozen over, and for all I know, frozen solid as well. But in these sub-zero mornings, if there is no wind and the sun is out, the
Bedroom Marmalade
After forty-six years and nine months of daily meal preparations, when we arrived in Wake Robin last June I turned my back on cooking without a second thought. Good bye,
Neurons Firing Overtime
I could have danced all night… Well, not really. After an hour or so of trying to remember long-forgotten steps–twinkles and grapevines and promenades–I was pretty well done in. It
Bulletin From Sabbatical
As the winter solstice came and went I found my resistance to posting on this blog, which had been growing through the summer and fall, impossible to overcome. I\’d been
Of Mites And Mange
This is the story of how Bisou, Wolfie and I got mange. It began in the golden month of September, when the skies were blue for days on end and
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Frida Y Yo
On bad days I think of Frida, nailed to her bed by pain, staring up at the ceiling, wondering when her husband, the painter Diego Rivera, a man as round
What Wisdom, Where?
When eating organic/vegetarian/gluten free, working out at the gym, and drinking eight glasses of water a day cease to delay the inevitable, baby boomers console themselves by thinking that, although
Zen and the Recorder
Now that I have entered my eighth decade, I am learning to play the recorder. There is no time to lose, so I practice daily, much to Bisou\’s dismay. The
Leaving The House
Lake Champlain is frozen over, and for all I know, frozen solid as well. But in these sub-zero mornings, if there is no wind and the sun is out, the
Bedroom Marmalade
After forty-six years and nine months of daily meal preparations, when we arrived in Wake Robin last June I turned my back on cooking without a second thought. Good bye,
Neurons Firing Overtime
I could have danced all night… Well, not really. After an hour or so of trying to remember long-forgotten steps–twinkles and grapevines and promenades–I was pretty well done in. It
Bulletin From Sabbatical
As the winter solstice came and went I found my resistance to posting on this blog, which had been growing through the summer and fall, impossible to overcome. I\’d been
Of Mites And Mange
This is the story of how Bisou, Wolfie and I got mange. It began in the golden month of September, when the skies were blue for days on end and