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
Women On Stage
Went with friends to hear the Philadelphia Orchestra some days ago, in its summer residence in nearby Saratoga. The guest conductor was Marin Alsop, on loan from the Baltimore Symphony.
Carnelian
Years ago, in a Hecht\’s department store in a Maryland mall, I came across a silver ring with a carnelian cabochon that I couldn\’t resist. I bought it and wore
On The Lake Of Guinea Pigs
It\’s August, 1955, so despite their formal attire these people cannot possibly be survivors of the Titanic. You can tell by the look on their faces that they\’re not worried
Summer\’s Subsiding
Did a couple of garden jobs today that I should have done long ago: pruning the lilacs and planting beans. I told myself even as I pushed the seeds into
Mozarts Of Maternity
Back from a long string of days wandering in the deserts of CFS, I read an article in last week\’s New Yorker about the French intellectual and feminist, Elisabeth Badinter.
Phoebe Mishap
Every summer for the last three years, the phoebes have raised two batches of babies in their nest inside the eaves of our front porch. They make a mess on
My Gay Hens
Before I plunge into a narrative of what I saw today, I should set the scene. My current flock consists of, in descending order of age: A. Three Buff Orpingtons,
A Fragile Balance
Yesterday two friends and a baby Belgian Sheepdog came to visit. We sat outside drinking wine and periodically fishing the puppy out of the pond into which she kept falling.
My Green Vermont
Latest Posts
Women On Stage
Went with friends to hear the Philadelphia Orchestra some days ago, in its summer residence in nearby Saratoga. The guest conductor was Marin Alsop, on loan from the Baltimore Symphony.
Carnelian
Years ago, in a Hecht\’s department store in a Maryland mall, I came across a silver ring with a carnelian cabochon that I couldn\’t resist. I bought it and wore
On The Lake Of Guinea Pigs
It\’s August, 1955, so despite their formal attire these people cannot possibly be survivors of the Titanic. You can tell by the look on their faces that they\’re not worried
Summer\’s Subsiding
Did a couple of garden jobs today that I should have done long ago: pruning the lilacs and planting beans. I told myself even as I pushed the seeds into
Mozarts Of Maternity
Back from a long string of days wandering in the deserts of CFS, I read an article in last week\’s New Yorker about the French intellectual and feminist, Elisabeth Badinter.
Phoebe Mishap
Every summer for the last three years, the phoebes have raised two batches of babies in their nest inside the eaves of our front porch. They make a mess on
My Gay Hens
Before I plunge into a narrative of what I saw today, I should set the scene. My current flock consists of, in descending order of age: A. Three Buff Orpingtons,
A Fragile Balance
Yesterday two friends and a baby Belgian Sheepdog came to visit. We sat outside drinking wine and periodically fishing the puppy out of the pond into which she kept falling.