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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. Got bored with teaching, took up running, and went into higher ed administration. 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.
It’s a sunny weekday morning, and there are four of us at the checkout counter in the otherwise empty neighborhood market. There is a young, Rubenesque register clerk with ivory
The children who, like me, were born shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War, embodied the hope for a life free from the horrors of the recent past.
This is not a self portrait, and not just because of the hair: I would no more trap a spider under a glass in order to release it outside
We took down the bird feeders the other day, and now I’m in withdrawal. Gone are my gray winter friends, the titmice, nuthatches, and chickadees that used to fly to
When the cellist Pau Casals was a child, he played for Queen Victoria. When he was an old man, and considered the finest musical interpreter of the 20th
I have sock issues. Living as I do in Vermont, I wear socks during most of the year, and they’re fine under boots. On not-so-frigid days I wear socks with
In my earliest memories, I am the center of a planetary system, a small but potent sun orbited by much larger satellites—parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I got off to
When the war was over, my father, no longer having to hide from the “Reds,” was able to play the violin again. By 1941 he had resumed life as a
It’s a sunny weekday morning, and there are four of us at the checkout counter in the otherwise empty neighborhood market. There is a young, Rubenesque register clerk with ivory
The children who, like me, were born shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War, embodied the hope for a life free from the horrors of the recent past.
This is not a self portrait, and not just because of the hair: I would no more trap a spider under a glass in order to release it outside
We took down the bird feeders the other day, and now I’m in withdrawal. Gone are my gray winter friends, the titmice, nuthatches, and chickadees that used to fly to
When the cellist Pau Casals was a child, he played for Queen Victoria. When he was an old man, and considered the finest musical interpreter of the 20th
I have sock issues. Living as I do in Vermont, I wear socks during most of the year, and they’re fine under boots. On not-so-frigid days I wear socks with
In my earliest memories, I am the center of a planetary system, a small but potent sun orbited by much larger satellites—parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I got off to
When the war was over, my father, no longer having to hide from the “Reds,” was able to play the violin again. By 1941 he had resumed life as a