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
Easter Tizzy
Found myself in some existential turmoil on Easter, of all days,so drew a cat to calm down. It worked.
Spring Babies
Every year at this time I am overwhelmed with desire for animal babies. I miss the goat kids that used to make the place come alive with their hopping and
Saving The Ivories
Just got back from an hour\’s communion with the spider plant in my dentist\’s office. Since I find nothing more boring than talk about teeth–even my own–I will write instead
Two Dogs In Mud Time
(My apologies for the title to Robert Frost, who used to live around here.) Last summer, to keep our dirt driveway from washing away, we had our \”driveway guy\” cover
After Steubenville: Defensive Driving For Girls
I really don\’t want to write about the Steubenville horror, but I won\’t be able to think of anything else until I do, so here goes. Lest I be accused
Reading, Writing
My mother\’s sister says that she taught me to read when I was three years old. \”That can\’t be right!\” I interrupt–she is, after all, 92–but she persists, \”Don\’t you
Dogged By Dog Guilt
I know I\’m not the only one suffering from this, but sometimes it feels that way. Are there really other people out there who, watching their canine companion snoring peacefully
Dear Pope Francis…
I had not held out much hope for the election results, but for about five minutes after the announcement that you would be the new pope I felt a surge
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Easter Tizzy
Found myself in some existential turmoil on Easter, of all days,so drew a cat to calm down. It worked.
Spring Babies
Every year at this time I am overwhelmed with desire for animal babies. I miss the goat kids that used to make the place come alive with their hopping and
Saving The Ivories
Just got back from an hour\’s communion with the spider plant in my dentist\’s office. Since I find nothing more boring than talk about teeth–even my own–I will write instead
Two Dogs In Mud Time
(My apologies for the title to Robert Frost, who used to live around here.) Last summer, to keep our dirt driveway from washing away, we had our \”driveway guy\” cover
After Steubenville: Defensive Driving For Girls
I really don\’t want to write about the Steubenville horror, but I won\’t be able to think of anything else until I do, so here goes. Lest I be accused
Reading, Writing
My mother\’s sister says that she taught me to read when I was three years old. \”That can\’t be right!\” I interrupt–she is, after all, 92–but she persists, \”Don\’t you
Dogged By Dog Guilt
I know I\’m not the only one suffering from this, but sometimes it feels that way. Are there really other people out there who, watching their canine companion snoring peacefully
Dear Pope Francis…
I had not held out much hope for the election results, but for about five minutes after the announcement that you would be the new pope I felt a surge