Chuck Arning
@arning.com
Since 2017, I’ve made it a daily ritual to take photos, capturing small moments that might otherwise go unnoticed. Each day, I select one image to share as a postcard—a way to pause, reflect, and mark time.
For the last few years, we have hiked the volcanoes west of the city on Christmas Day. My 12/25/25 postcard is from the top of Vulcan, with the city stretched thin below, and the Sandias holding the horizon. #Albuquerque
December 25, 2025 at 10:03 PM
For the last few years, we have hiked the volcanoes west of the city on Christmas Day. My 12/25/25 postcard is from the top of Vulcan, with the city stretched thin below, and the Sandias holding the horizon. #Albuquerque
Every Christmas Eve, my family journeys to Albuquerque’s Old Town, where the subject of my 12/24/25 postcard rises from the center of Old Town, wrapped in light and framed by strings of bulbs overhead, a towering Christmas tree.
December 25, 2025 at 4:08 AM
Every Christmas Eve, my family journeys to Albuquerque’s Old Town, where the subject of my 12/24/25 postcard rises from the center of Old Town, wrapped in light and framed by strings of bulbs overhead, a towering Christmas tree.
The subject of my 12/23/25 postcard surprised me in the VA landscaping: a ladybug clinging to the center of a dried flower, its bright shell standing out against petals that have already given up. The season has moved on, but something living remains, steady and unbothered. #Albuquerque
December 23, 2025 at 8:57 PM
The subject of my 12/23/25 postcard surprised me in the VA landscaping: a ladybug clinging to the center of a dried flower, its bright shell standing out against petals that have already given up. The season has moved on, but something living remains, steady and unbothered. #Albuquerque
My 12/22/25 postcard features a single dried seed hanging from a bare branch, holding in place long after its season has passed. Lit by winter light, it feels suspended between release and persistence, a small, quiet reminder of both the end and a new beginning. #Albuquerque
December 22, 2025 at 10:04 PM
My 12/22/25 postcard features a single dried seed hanging from a bare branch, holding in place long after its season has passed. Lit by winter light, it feels suspended between release and persistence, a small, quiet reminder of both the end and a new beginning. #Albuquerque
My 12-21-25 postcard is a faceless figure standing frozen in a movie prop studio during a sale in the South Valley. Dressed for a role it will never fully play, a reminder that every movie is filled with quiet, constructed stand-ins, waiting for meaning to be assigned. #Albuquerque
December 22, 2025 at 12:13 AM
My 12-21-25 postcard is a faceless figure standing frozen in a movie prop studio during a sale in the South Valley. Dressed for a role it will never fully play, a reminder that every movie is filled with quiet, constructed stand-ins, waiting for meaning to be assigned. #Albuquerque
My 12/20/25 postcard comes from the Pueblo Gingerbread House Contest, where a small, handmade figure cradles two children. In black and white, the image sheds its holiday context, becoming a quiet scene of care, vulnerability, and the instinct to hold on. #Albuquerque
December 20, 2025 at 11:42 PM
My 12/20/25 postcard comes from the Pueblo Gingerbread House Contest, where a small, handmade figure cradles two children. In black and white, the image sheds its holiday context, becoming a quiet scene of care, vulnerability, and the instinct to hold on. #Albuquerque
My 12/19/25 postcard is a pomegranate hanging empty by time and birds, its interior exposed to winter light. What’s left isn’t ruin so much as a record, a small, honest accounting of use, survival, and the passage of a season. #Albuquerque
December 20, 2025 at 2:19 AM
My 12/19/25 postcard is a pomegranate hanging empty by time and birds, its interior exposed to winter light. What’s left isn’t ruin so much as a record, a small, honest accounting of use, survival, and the passage of a season. #Albuquerque
My 12/18/25 postcard comes from Bullhead Park, where a dry leaf hangs improbably in a chain-link fence, caught not by intention but by circumstance. It’s a small, ordinary moment, where wind, gravity, and timing froze it. Nothing dramatic happened here, yet everything necessary did. #Albuquerque
December 18, 2025 at 8:32 PM
My 12/18/25 postcard comes from Bullhead Park, where a dry leaf hangs improbably in a chain-link fence, caught not by intention but by circumstance. It’s a small, ordinary moment, where wind, gravity, and timing froze it. Nothing dramatic happened here, yet everything necessary did. #Albuquerque
My 12/17/25 postcard is a close view of fractured ice scattered across the gutter of Sunningdale Ave, each shard catching the light differently. What looks chaotic at first resolves into a delicate pattern, thin, temporary, already on its way to disappearing, held together only by cold and timing.
December 17, 2025 at 9:53 PM
My 12/17/25 postcard is a close view of fractured ice scattered across the gutter of Sunningdale Ave, each shard catching the light differently. What looks chaotic at first resolves into a delicate pattern, thin, temporary, already on its way to disappearing, held together only by cold and timing.
My 12/16/25 postcard is a sunflower long past its peak, drooping under its own weight, yellow petals thinning and curling as the head dries and darkens. What was once a common color in the neighborhood is now rare and fleeting, an honest record of time having done its work.
December 16, 2025 at 10:37 PM
My 12/16/25 postcard is a sunflower long past its peak, drooping under its own weight, yellow petals thinning and curling as the head dries and darkens. What was once a common color in the neighborhood is now rare and fleeting, an honest record of time having done its work.
My 12/15/25 postcard is a roadrunner pausing inside a clay pot, feathers puffed to catch the sun, eyes alert, caught between movement and stillness. It’s a wild thing, that’s adapting to human space, and has made Albuquerque its home.
December 15, 2025 at 10:16 PM
My 12/15/25 postcard is a roadrunner pausing inside a clay pot, feathers puffed to catch the sun, eyes alert, caught between movement and stillness. It’s a wild thing, that’s adapting to human space, and has made Albuquerque its home.
My 12/14/25 postcard is a lone figure sitting on a bench in Hyder Park on a Sunday morning, framed by bare trees and winter grass. Nothing is happening, and that’s the point: a public space claimed by stillness, where time slows enough for thought to catch up. #Albuquerque
December 14, 2025 at 9:30 PM
My 12/14/25 postcard is a lone figure sitting on a bench in Hyder Park on a Sunday morning, framed by bare trees and winter grass. Nothing is happening, and that’s the point: a public space claimed by stillness, where time slows enough for thought to catch up. #Albuquerque
My 12/13/25 postcard is a single red ornament hanging from a bare winter branch along Quincy Street, catching the light against a clear blue sky: a small, deliberate celebration held in place by nothing more than balance and a small wire. #Albuquerque
December 14, 2025 at 12:14 AM
My 12/13/25 postcard is a single red ornament hanging from a bare winter branch along Quincy Street, catching the light against a clear blue sky: a small, deliberate celebration held in place by nothing more than balance and a small wire. #Albuquerque
My 12/12/25 postcard is a towering Godzilla figure in a yard on Southern, frozen mid-gesture, rendered in black and white except for the Santa hat, which sits on his head like a joke he doesn’t quite understand. It’s as if the king of monsters has agreed to inspect the naughty list. #Albuquerque
December 13, 2025 at 12:18 AM
My 12/12/25 postcard is a towering Godzilla figure in a yard on Southern, frozen mid-gesture, rendered in black and white except for the Santa hat, which sits on his head like a joke he doesn’t quite understand. It’s as if the king of monsters has agreed to inspect the naughty list. #Albuquerque
My 12/11/25 postcard is a rose hip standing in winter light, its surface burnished in reds and golds. The dried sepals curl back like a weathered crown, exposing the fruit beneath. Even in decay, it glows with quiet intensity, a last ember of the previous season holding out against the cold.
December 11, 2025 at 6:25 PM
My 12/11/25 postcard is a rose hip standing in winter light, its surface burnished in reds and golds. The dried sepals curl back like a weathered crown, exposing the fruit beneath. Even in decay, it glows with quiet intensity, a last ember of the previous season holding out against the cold.
My 12/10/25 postcard is my wife’s cat, part animal, part ornament, as it peers out from beneath a red Santa hat trimmed in white fluff, presented as a portrait. It has a storybook quality, like a character in a strange holiday tale, the kind of image that says the season has personality.
December 11, 2025 at 2:39 AM
My 12/10/25 postcard is my wife’s cat, part animal, part ornament, as it peers out from beneath a red Santa hat trimmed in white fluff, presented as a portrait. It has a storybook quality, like a character in a strange holiday tale, the kind of image that says the season has personality.
My 12/09/25 is a single oak leaf hanging suspended in late light, its surface a mosaic of color. Veins glow like thin stained glass, mapping where the season has burned through. Fragile, weathered, but stubbornly vivid, it carries autumn’s last spark. #Albuquerque
December 10, 2025 at 2:59 AM
My 12/09/25 is a single oak leaf hanging suspended in late light, its surface a mosaic of color. Veins glow like thin stained glass, mapping where the season has burned through. Fragile, weathered, but stubbornly vivid, it carries autumn’s last spark. #Albuquerque
My 12/08/25 postcard is a spent flower head clinging to its stem, petals bleached into parchment by cold air and passing days. The leaves sag, textured and worn, yet still hanging on. Processed as a painting, it’s a reminder that beauty doesn’t vanish when the blossom is past its prime.
December 9, 2025 at 2:17 AM
My 12/08/25 postcard is a spent flower head clinging to its stem, petals bleached into parchment by cold air and passing days. The leaves sag, textured and worn, yet still hanging on. Processed as a painting, it’s a reminder that beauty doesn’t vanish when the blossom is past its prime.
My 12/07/25 postcard is a Red Hesperaloe seed pod, its split shell revealing pale interior walls. The outer skin, once a bloom, now shows reds turned to rust and wrinkles like aged parchment. #Albuquerque
December 7, 2025 at 7:45 PM
My 12/07/25 postcard is a Red Hesperaloe seed pod, its split shell revealing pale interior walls. The outer skin, once a bloom, now shows reds turned to rust and wrinkles like aged parchment. #Albuquerque
My 12/06/25 postcard is a small rabbit sitting in the cracked soil of a dry irrigation ditch, its fur blending perfectly with the earth around it. It looks alert but unafraid, as if the ground itself shaped it and set it there to breathe for a moment. #Albuquerque
December 6, 2025 at 11:22 PM
My 12/06/25 postcard is a small rabbit sitting in the cracked soil of a dry irrigation ditch, its fur blending perfectly with the earth around it. It looks alert but unafraid, as if the ground itself shaped it and set it there to breathe for a moment. #Albuquerque
My 12/05/25 postcard is a roadrunner standing on a sunlit sidewalk in Siesta Hills, feathers catching the light in layers. The crest lifts just enough to show attitude, part alert sentry, part outlaw mascot. Its long tail trails behind like a banner. #Albuquerque
December 5, 2025 at 11:59 PM
My 12/05/25 postcard is a roadrunner standing on a sunlit sidewalk in Siesta Hills, feathers catching the light in layers. The crest lifts just enough to show attitude, part alert sentry, part outlaw mascot. Its long tail trails behind like a banner. #Albuquerque
My 12/04/25 postcard is the six-hole at Puerto del Sol, covered in a clean, unbroken layer of snow, turning the fairway into a bright white plain under a crisp blue sky. The usually busy course feels hushed, no golfers, no footprints, just a rare stillness settling over familiar ground. #Albuquerque
December 4, 2025 at 8:12 PM
My 12/04/25 postcard is the six-hole at Puerto del Sol, covered in a clean, unbroken layer of snow, turning the fairway into a bright white plain under a crisp blue sky. The usually busy course feels hushed, no golfers, no footprints, just a rare stillness settling over familiar ground. #Albuquerque
My 12/03/25 postcard is a cluster of empty drink cans hanging from the bare branches of a tree near Zuni, each one wired on like an ornament. It feels accidental and intentional at the same time, a tiny gallery of what people leave behind, caught in the limbs of a tree that didn’t ask for any of it
December 3, 2025 at 6:45 PM
My 12/03/25 postcard is a cluster of empty drink cans hanging from the bare branches of a tree near Zuni, each one wired on like an ornament. It feels accidental and intentional at the same time, a tiny gallery of what people leave behind, caught in the limbs of a tree that didn’t ask for any of it
The last two cold nights finally shook the trees loose, and the leaves came down in a rush. My 12/02/25 postcard shows a rust-red metal dog sitting in a yard on Natalie Avenue, surrounded by a fresh bed of fallen leaves. #Albuquerque
December 2, 2025 at 10:01 PM
The last two cold nights finally shook the trees loose, and the leaves came down in a rush. My 12/02/25 postcard shows a rust-red metal dog sitting in a yard on Natalie Avenue, surrounded by a fresh bed of fallen leaves. #Albuquerque
My 12/01/25 postcard is a flower past its bloom, still holding onto threads of purple and gold. The petals hang like old parchment, curling inward as the season pulls it toward its end. Even so, it stands with a quiet kind of pride, a final flare of color before winter takes the stage. #Albuquerque
December 1, 2025 at 9:00 PM
My 12/01/25 postcard is a flower past its bloom, still holding onto threads of purple and gold. The petals hang like old parchment, curling inward as the season pulls it toward its end. Even so, it stands with a quiet kind of pride, a final flare of color before winter takes the stage. #Albuquerque