January Stationery Kit Reveal!

Each month I curate a selection of stationery to send to my monthly kit subscribers. I loved creating January's block printed card! I carved the blocks in front of the fire sipping on hot toddies while with friends up in my little A-frame cabin in the woods in northern New Mexico. What a treat to welcome the New Year in this way!

Here's what was in January's kit: 3 greeting cards (one was hand block printed), 1 set of writing pages, glittery rose gold envelope seals, and 4 forever stamps.

Want to get a kit each month? Learn more & sign up here.

With each kit, I also include a longer form personal letter. Here's the letter from January.

January 2026, Volume 46

“The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.”

- Gayle Brandeis

Dear Friends,

There’s something about a blank page at the beginning of a new year that feels hopeful and daunting all at once. I get introspective this time of year. The short days combined with the rush and then halt of the holidays, and the time I have off from the hustle of my day job lead to lots of moments of reflection and of looking ahead. 

I am a bit of a goal oriented person, but I like to think about it this way - if I woke up a year from now, what would I want my life to look like? How would it be different from the way it is today, and how would it be the same? That last part is something I’ve realized is quite important - it’s easy to fall into the trap of the “new year, new you” mentality, but what about all of the things that are going well?

Here in Albuquerque, we’ve had an unseasonably warm winter, and I’m lamenting the lack of snow in our mountains. It feels as if we’ve skipped the bulk of winter altogether and it’s easy for my mind to jump ahead to the next season of warmth even when we are firmly in winter. I read a poem that embodied this push and pull idea of knowing that something good is coming right around the corner, but staying in the present all the same.

The Plum You’re Going To Eat Next Summer

by Gayle Brandeis

The plum you’re going to eat next summer
doesn’t exist yet; its potential
lives inside a tree you’ll never see
in an orchard you’ll never see, will be touched
by a certain number of water droplets
before it reaches you, by certain angles
of light, by a finite amount of bugs
and dust motes and hands
you’ll never know. The plum you are
going to eat next summer will gather
sugar, gather mass, will harden
at its center so it can soften toward
your mouth. The plum
you’re going to eat next
summer doesn’t know
you exist. The plum you are
going to eat next summer
is growing just for you.

I’ve been thinking about this poem for weeks and knowing it is growing somewhere just for me tickles my imagination! I hope this inspires you as much as it did me.

To our plums, out there growing just for us –

Jen

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