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  Welcome/back friends & family & other loved ones, hope you are doing okay! This feels like an absurd time to try reviving the blog I established and abandoned at Valentine season last year, because what is even happening right now. But really what else should I be doing? It’s possible that this tenuous and chaotic national moment is as good a time as any to make another attempt at sharing these things.

  One of many useful concepts we’ve picked up while helping an ADHD kid navigate childhood and education in a neurotypical world (and in the process learning a *lot* about our own uniquely built minds) is that of accommodations. The term exists mainly to describe the ways schools and workplaces support people with ADHD in meeting the demands of their environment and making use of their gifts, but we use it to mean any tool we develop to get what we need and create what we’re capable of making. It’s been gratifying to read up on the history and science of neurodivergence and come across experts recommending accommodations that we adopted way before we had kids or knew the jargon, like inviting a bunch of people over so we have to knuckle down and get the house presentably clean, or turning one entire kitchen wall into a chalkboard and making that our shared all-purpose calendar, which we’ve done ever since we first moved in together. Also all our doorless cabinets and open closets and wall unit cubbies and clothing shelves are ADHD friendly — turns out a certain kind of brain needs to see an item to remember that it exists.

  In recent years I’ve realized that the whole valentine ritual is a huge annual accommodation for me, with several essential functions. It reminds me of all the people I love, nearby and scattered around the country and globe, in a part of the year that often finds me hunkered down doomscrolling and/or phyically unwell and/or unsustainably busy. It gives a lift to my spirit (and I hope to some of yours) in a season that can get existentially gloomy even for people who don’t have Valentine’s day adjacent birthdays, and it redirects my attention to the unique joys of knowing each of you. It also pushes me to reflect on and make meaning of the year that has been, and every year there are extra stories I want to tell and recommendations I want to make and dumb jokes and articles and pictures I want to share — so I will be doing my best to put those here for you to find over the next couple of days. Look around if you have a minute, call or text or come through if you’d rather. In any case I hope you stay safe and sane and connected and grounded through whatever 2025 brings us, and know that you are loved ❤️

What’s going on here? For the first time ever, an explanation of the photo grid.

Row 2: Eclipse viewers in the driveway, a snail Eliot became friends with, E blowing out candles at his big 10th (!) birthday party, J & E at the Long Beach aquarium during their June trip to California, rose campion going nuts in the jackhammer garden, E taking me for a spin around the pond.

Row 3: Jeremiah turning 13 (!!?!), the garage bedazzled for the midsummer party we had celebrating his 13th & our buddy Isaiah’s 6th, J rope swinging into the Connecticut River, orange turkey tail mushroom, rainbow after a summer storm, Eliot eating cherry tomatoes in the jhg in August.

 💚

Row 4: guys tubing in the river on a camping trip, the family selfie we took for the bulletin board at E’s school at the last possible moment, wetlands off the rail trail in perfect fall weather, Jeremiah in an XC race — he went out for the team for the first time this year and it turns out he’s fast! My slightly unhinged appreciation of running and Jordan’s mostly-legs build are a powerful combination. Two dancing vegetable guys I made when our farmshare included irresistible carrot-pants, spooky super/harvest moon.

Row 5: me working in the autumn 2024 extension of the jhg, a barrel of apples at a cider-pressing party, Eliot’s snail Halloween costume (I made it to meet his *very* specific vision & I think it came out great honestly), maroon leaves & November sky, walking through New Salem when Jordan took me on a stick-season date to this unlikely museum in a hill town near here, E holding one of the intricate fishing lures he’s gotten really into making — they are awesome, kind of like jewelry or tiny sculptures but built to move in the water in interesting ways.

Row 6: Jordan at the edge of the woods just before the first snow, Jeremiah doing homework (for the first time this year his English teacher has assigned a few of the texts I used to teach and he’s asked for my help making sense of them 🤯⏳) Eliot in Forest Park on the first of two very close together holiday roadtrips to Richmond for Thanksgiving & Christmas, solstice light/Christmas tree, painting Jordan made of the kitchen, J & E in RVA on the morning of the 25th.

Row 7: Jordan & Eliot skating on the pond behind our house — consistently below-freezing temps this winter have made it very skateable, New Years Day good luck plate (we had people over for black eyed peas and cornbread and collard greens and stewed tomatoes, but as soon as everyone left the four of us got floored by norovirus that we’d apparently picked up in the last days of December — no one else got sick but it made for a weird kickoff to 2025 for us). E & me in the woods in the snow, cranberry tarts that came out pretty, J & E walking west across our neighbor’s yard, winter sunset over the cornfield next to us & the Holyoke range.

The last few weeks have been gentled and brightened in the valley by vintage snowfalls, with cold enough days between to let the layers collect sled tracks and paw prints and the debris of forts and snowball fights before another few inches come down to smooth it all over. The way the snow amplifies and multiplies the returning daylight feels especially medicinal — inside the house bright objects sparkle and even the laundry pile glows, and all the plants reach wildly toward the windows in a way that’s hard not to anthropomorphize. I’m grateful, as national news gets darker and stranger and the season presents its myriad smaller, more personal challenges, for the lift it gives.