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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.
Four labs and lab-mixes, and three terriers—or is it three labs and four terriers?—are in the dog park, a canine whirlwind. But where is Truffle? At six pounds, zero ounces
I’m sitting on the porch, bathing in green: green grass, green bushes, green trees, green air. Then, in the dark green crown of an oak—or is it a maple, or
For years, I used my toes as an auxiliary set of fingers. Seated at my desk, doing homework, if my pencil rolled to the floor I would reach out a
“You’re just in la edad del pavo (the turkey age),” my mother would say when I complained about my acne, hairy legs, and general adolescent unattractiveness. “But don’t worry. It
Pound per pound, tiny Truffle has used up a lot of space in this blog since I adopted him in January. By comparison the cat Telemann, like many a firstborn
A few days ago I discovered a trove of dog training videos on YouTube, and my life has been enriched, and Truffle’s life transformed, by the abundance of available advice.
These days I often think about my grandmothers. I scrutinize my memories of them, trying to discern how they dealt with the problem of growing old. Although the age-defying technologies—cataract
Not a day goes by when I don’t ask myself, having read/watched/heard the news, what right do I have to be happy? Or, even putting happiness aside, what right do
Four labs and lab-mixes, and three terriers—or is it three labs and four terriers?—are in the dog park, a canine whirlwind. But where is Truffle? At six pounds, zero ounces
I’m sitting on the porch, bathing in green: green grass, green bushes, green trees, green air. Then, in the dark green crown of an oak—or is it a maple, or
For years, I used my toes as an auxiliary set of fingers. Seated at my desk, doing homework, if my pencil rolled to the floor I would reach out a
“You’re just in la edad del pavo (the turkey age),” my mother would say when I complained about my acne, hairy legs, and general adolescent unattractiveness. “But don’t worry. It
Pound per pound, tiny Truffle has used up a lot of space in this blog since I adopted him in January. By comparison the cat Telemann, like many a firstborn
A few days ago I discovered a trove of dog training videos on YouTube, and my life has been enriched, and Truffle’s life transformed, by the abundance of available advice.
These days I often think about my grandmothers. I scrutinize my memories of them, trying to discern how they dealt with the problem of growing old. Although the age-defying technologies—cataract
Not a day goes by when I don’t ask myself, having read/watched/heard the news, what right do I have to be happy? Or, even putting happiness aside, what right do