Hey friends,

As I write this, I’m tucked into my favorite spot at our rented ski cabin—a cozy chair facing a wall of windows framed by frosted glass and dangling icicles. Yesterday, I had the chance to experience "first tracks": that rare moment when the snow is a perfect, unmarked canvas stretching out before my skis. There is a profound beauty in the clean slate before the first track is ever made.

The start of a new year offers a similar feeling—a chance to groom over the bumps of the previous year and start again, inspired and hopeful.

Looking back on 2025—a year that, for me, was a mosaic of film, digital, and instant frames—I realize my most meaningful moments didn't come from a "perfect" path. They came from the simple act of showing up, even when the snow felt heavy, the air too cold, or the light too dim.

This past year reminded me that the creative journey isn't a single line we must get right; it’s a wide-open trail with twists, icy patches, and fallen limbs. The value isn’t in the perfection of our tracks, but in the courage to head out and listen to what the world is saying. The magic happens when you stop worrying about the "right" photo and start honoring the impulse to simply look.

What does 2026 hold for you? Are you tackling a list of goals, or are you considering what you can leave behind as the calendar flips? Hit reply and let me know what your fresh tracks will look like.

A New Chapter: The 2026 P52

As you look toward the upcoming year, I invite you to join me in the 2026 Click Community P52. I am so honored to be leading this project for the coming year!

Our very first prompt is "A New Beginning." It’s an inspiring, low-pressure way to keep your creative light burning within an intimate community that will cheer you on every single week.

Join the P52 Community Here

Thank you for being part of my journey. I am constantly inspired by our connection and look forward to strengthening that friendship in the year ahead.

With warmth and light,

Jenny

A few things I’m leaning into:

• Micro-Goals: Rather than a daunting list of resolutions, I’m focusing on small, actionable items. In January, my first micro-goal is immersing myself in a nature writing workshop, exploring the bridge between the words I write and the images I make.

• Translating Sensation into Words: I’m practicing the art of "noticing" beyond the visual. What does the winter air smell like? How does the dry grass sound underfoot? I’m leaning into the challenge of finding words for the sensations I usually try to describe with a lens.

A few things I’m loving:

• Theo of Golden by Allen Levi: This story is such a beautiful reminder of the power of quiet generosity and intentional connection. It follows a man who finds himself with an unexpected fortune and chooses to weave a tapestry of kindness in a small town. It’s a book that makes you want to look at your community—and your own resources—with a more open and loving heart.

• The Photography of Minor White: I’ve been considering his spiritual approach to the landscape lately. He believed that a photograph could be a reflection of the inner self, and his close-up studies of ice, frost, and snow feel like intimate meditations on the season. His work is a beautiful reminder that when we look closely enough at the small details of the natural world, we are often catching a glimpse of something much deeper.

• On Repeat: "Free Fallin" by Joshua Hyslop: A classic favorite, this is a fresh take on Tom Petty’s familiar tune. 

I’m always looking for new inspiration. If you’ve read a book or heard a song lately that felt like a quiet meditation, would you hit reply and share it with me? I’d love to add it to my winter list.

The Art of the Analog Connection

After nearly 2 months away, I dejectedly flipped through a stack of mail. Every single piece was garbage—junk mail, pieces addressed to previous residents, the errant notice of an HOA meeting for our rental property in Virginia. I picked up the entire stack and dropped it in the recycling bin.

A few days before, I had been introduced to the idea of a postcard club. An invitation to step away from viewing images on the screen and into a simpler, analog experience of connection. Imagine opening the mailbox to find a quiet moment of beauty captured on paper for you to hold in your hands. Imagine something more than a pile of recycling.

I invite you to join my postcard club and enjoy a new (old) way of appreciating connection.

Join the Postcard Club