Moving Within
As many of you know, we have been living in a small cabin for over a year while we complete the addition to our cabin over Panhandle Creek. It’s taken much longer than we expected, but that’s the nature of most renovations (especially at 8725′). We had hoped to be in by the holidays, but yesterday we learned it will most likely be January or February before we can move back home. Disappointing, but we’re grateful to have a roof over head and plenty of firewood for the stove. My books will stay in boxes for a couple more months. In the grand scheme of things, this is a small setback. Do I sound convinced? I’m getting there!
Completing Denver Publishing Institute was the catalyst for tremendous movement within. I’ve known since Writing for Peace what kinds of books I wanted to publish. DPI gave me new tools and greater clarity of vision. To that end, we’ve added two new imprints:
Ardea Herodias Books which aims to cultivate unique voices in children’s literature and develop beautiful books that challenge young readers to grow their capacity for empathy.
North Fork Publishing will serve as the hybrid press, providing support from initial book concept to developmental, copy, and line editing, from book design and page layout to publishing and distribution. North Fork Publishing provides authors with the flexibility to design a program that best meets their publishing needs, and replaces our previous hybrid press, “Panhandle Creek Publishing.”
Both Panhandle Creek Press and Ardea Herodias Books will operate as a traditional press.
When Craig bought me watercolors last Christmas, they opened up a whole new world of possibilities. I began painting the natural world—my home in the Rocky Mountains, childhood memories of the Alaskan wilderness where I grew up.
With the increased hostility toward immigrants and cultures from around the world, the books being purged from schools and libraries, and the political move to remove empathy and compassion from faith, I knew I wanted to create a children’s book about “the golden rule.” My time at DPI also helped clarify my vision for the book and a “Collected Wisdom” series of children’s books written by authors from within many cultures—children’s stories that pass knowledge through the generations. I’ll be honest, the illustrations are a stretch for me. It’s taken much longer than I had planned!
The first book in the series, The Golden Rule, shares simple quotes from various faiths, cultures, and traditions. The illustrations tell a story of how one small kindness spreads on a wintry night. The book will release on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, November 25th.
And on Tuesday, December 2nd, we’ll celebrate another launch for author Nancy Johnson’s book, Essence of Our Humanity: Portraits of My Beloved Psychiatric Patients. It’s a small, beautiful, and very unique book. I’ll tell you about it next time!
Back to Rumi’s poem. Though so much is at stake now, and so many of the sign posts along the way are darkly foreboding, Rumi’s wisdom still holds true. Genuine strength is found in empathy and compassion. Without knowing the future, we resist fear and walk on, acknowledging kindnesses and adding our own where we can.
As a quick update, our cabin addition is nearing completion. It’s taken longer than we hoped, but that’s the nature of construction at 8750′ elevation. The two small cabins we’re renovating are also near completion, and we hope to get those on the market this year. Craig is returning to engineering, his core strength, and I’m excited to open Panhandle Creek Press for general submissions as soon as I graduate from the Publishing Institute. We’ve applied to the county for a hosted short-term rental. If that goes through, we look forward to welcoming writers for some quiet mountain inspiration time, complete with beautiful views, hiking trails, wildlife and bird viewing, propane fire pit, and a hot tub overlooking the Panhandle Creek.
The lovely Winslow Writers, above, have been preparing for a very special event. The Spring Equinox Reading will be an evening of stories, poetry, and music, featuring Royston Hunget on the fiddle.
When the kids were young, no matter how many times I told myself I wouldn’t do it, I succumbed to those heightened, commercialized, expectations. Craig reminded me the other day that one year we had six Christmas trees of various sizes and themes scattered throughout our home. They were beautiful but, in retrospect, a grasp at that shiny perfection we see on every magazine cover this time of year. If I weighed, now, the effort and expense in putting those trees up with the pleasure they provided, the effort would grossly outweigh the pleasure. And the sparkly dressing never really changed the reality of day-to-day life. Despite the splendor, we had family conflict (even more so because we were all exhausted), we experienced sadness and loss. I remember one year when a loved one overdosed and tried to avoid the paramedics by hiding behind the decorated tree in the dining room. The tree came crashing down onto the table, destroying glass ornaments and the centerpiece. In the end, none of that mattered. The only thing that any of us cared about was that a precious life was saved. We had more time together to learn and grow.
This Christmas will be bittersweet. If all goes according to plan, it will be the last year we enjoy Craig’s stonework. When we moved here five years ago, the previous owners had placed an old woodstove on tiles nearly in the middle of the floor. One of our first improvements was to purchase a stove that could be placed closer to the wall. Craig researched the codes and built the beautiful stone hearth and surround, and the pine mantle above it. I love those rocks, and I hope we can keep at least some of them, but next year the stove will move to new living quarters over the garage.
In the spring, we hope to break ground on our bed and breakfast. A longtime dream, the addition will dramatically change the configuration of our livingroom, while adding two gorgeous guest spaces with views of the creek and the valley. In this room, we’ll add a new stone fireplace, along with room for my piano.
In our family, we have always appreciated the extra goodness that comes with building, or baking, or creating with our own hands. When the grandkids ask for my carrot cake for their birthdays, or Craig’s homemade bread for sandwiches, it’s because these things taste a little better when they’re made with love. We’re excited about the changes, and look forward to being able to share our mountain B&B with friends and family. Like everything we apply ourselves to, these changes will be made with love. But now, working at the table while snow falls on the forest around us, I am looking through the white lights of our tree to the woodstove on Craig’s beautiful hearth. I’m grateful for him and the many ways he shows his love.
With snow in the forecast for Thursday, we took a long lunch on Tuesday and headed out. There were 8 or 9 trees down that Craig cut with his chainsaw. Together we rolled them aside and pulled the slash off the trail to redirect hikers. It was a beautiful day – the kind that reminds you what’s important. I’m grateful for my co-chair, Rachel’s, sage advice, and the reminder that life is always changing.