$12 / month · ships every month

Art & stories from a quiet little town on Route 66 — delivered to your mailbox

Small-town stories. Original art. Real mail.

Cancel anytime. We’re bringing real mail back.

What’s in every package

Four small things, hand-packed, mailed once a month.

1

A personal letter from Beth

A public journal from her life as an artist on Route 66. Includes the story behind this month’s print: when, where, what was happening when she made it.

2

An original Route 66 art print

With a postcard form on the back. Frame it or mail it.

3

A DIY coloring project

High-detail image with a special phrase, words of encouragement, or a scripture snippet.

4

Two original funky art stickers

Stick them on something good. The cooler, the laptop, the back of a road sign you’d rather not name.

A word from Beth

Why I’m doing this.

I live in a town most people drive through without thinking about. The old highway runs straight down the middle of it. There’s a diner that opens at six, a hardware store that still sells things you actually need, and a sky that does something different every evening. I’ve been making art here for years, mostly for myself, sometimes for the people on this block.

I want to send some of that to your mailbox. Not as content. As mail. A print I made on a Tuesday, a letter about what the week was like, a coloring page I drew while the coffee got cold. Twelve dollars, twelve months, one envelope at a time. That’s the whole deal.

— Beth Co-founder & resident pen-pal
A peek at last month’s letter
Mailed the second week of April
Hi friend,

The dogwood out back finally gave up its last white petals this week. The wind got them, mostly. I swept some off the porch this morning and the rest are doing whatever petals do when nobody’s watching.

I made this month’s print sitting at the counter at Ruby’s. She let me stay long after my eggs went cold because she could tell I was on a roll. The little roadside chapel on the print is real. It’s about a mile past the old gas pumps, and almost nobody stops there anymore. I think about that building a lot.

The coloring page this month has a line from a hymn my grandmother used to hum when she was wringing out laundry. I won’t spoil it. Color slowly.

Love,
Beth
— Letter continues in your mailbox —

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$12 a month. Cancel whenever. First envelope goes out at the next mailing.

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