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
Some Moral Reflections On Needlepoint
I just this minute finished a needlepoint pillow I\’ve been working on for almost a year. And by \”finished,\” I mean finished–backing attached, stuffing stuffed, the last seam sewn and
Winter Fauna
I\’ve long been under the impression that wild creatures hibernate, or at least slow down, during winter. But around here the cold weather seems to have raised activity levels by
Into Deep Silence
After the Christmas hullabaloo and brouhaha are done, a deep silence sets in. It helps if, as happened this year, a good thick snowfall comes to muffle the sounds and
Lap Dog, Wild Dog
Sorrow for the families of the slaughtered in Connecticut and anger at the political factions that enable such outrages have left me feeling that perpetual mourning might be the sole appropriate undertaking for these
The Prodigal Hen
In the context of my darn near idyllic existence in this blessed place, Thursday was a bad day. It was the day after the great chicken house cleanout and, not
The Biggest Gardening Day Of The Year
…or at least, that\’s what I call it as I shovel out the hen house and dump the contents on the vegetable beds. In case you\’re not familiar with my
Kittens Vs. Biscuits
\”Just because your cat has kittens in the oven,\” the old-timers around here say, \”you don\’t call them biscuits.\” Meaning that it takes more than just living here to be a
My First Buck
A Novemberish day. Gray sky, gray woods, and the kind of chill that makes you fall in love with your woodstove. I\’m perfectly aware that this exact temperature will, in early
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Some Moral Reflections On Needlepoint
I just this minute finished a needlepoint pillow I\’ve been working on for almost a year. And by \”finished,\” I mean finished–backing attached, stuffing stuffed, the last seam sewn and
Winter Fauna
I\’ve long been under the impression that wild creatures hibernate, or at least slow down, during winter. But around here the cold weather seems to have raised activity levels by
Into Deep Silence
After the Christmas hullabaloo and brouhaha are done, a deep silence sets in. It helps if, as happened this year, a good thick snowfall comes to muffle the sounds and
Lap Dog, Wild Dog
Sorrow for the families of the slaughtered in Connecticut and anger at the political factions that enable such outrages have left me feeling that perpetual mourning might be the sole appropriate undertaking for these
The Prodigal Hen
In the context of my darn near idyllic existence in this blessed place, Thursday was a bad day. It was the day after the great chicken house cleanout and, not
The Biggest Gardening Day Of The Year
…or at least, that\’s what I call it as I shovel out the hen house and dump the contents on the vegetable beds. In case you\’re not familiar with my
Kittens Vs. Biscuits
\”Just because your cat has kittens in the oven,\” the old-timers around here say, \”you don\’t call them biscuits.\” Meaning that it takes more than just living here to be a
My First Buck
A Novemberish day. Gray sky, gray woods, and the kind of chill that makes you fall in love with your woodstove. I\’m perfectly aware that this exact temperature will, in early