On Growing Clarity and New Directions
I haven’t posted for over two years. For those of you who’ve stuck around, it’s good to connect again. A lot has happened since August 2023. I’m sure that’s true for you all, as well. I hope you’ll drop me a note in the comments and give me a brief update.
I’m currently enrolled in the Publishing Institute at Denver University, a four week intensive graduate course on the industry of book making. I am in my happy place. They have done an incredible job developing this immersive program that is a safe space for students to fully engage and take risks. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced an environment that is so completely supportive. The faculty, all of my classmates – without exception – are cheering each other on and lifting each other up.
The motto their faculty espouses is, “Be kind, and work hard.” It’s a beautiful thing. And also smart. This is the next generation of genuine book lovers to move into the publishing industry. Students who are not afraid to make mistakes or share their creative ideas are students who will bring innovation to an industry that is always transforming.
Being kind and working hard is good business and, I think, a good motto for living life. It may be a little out of vogue at the present, but I believe it’s a principle that will stand the test of time. I find myself now evaluating my relationships and the ways I spend my time with growing clarity. And I’m excited about life’s new directions.
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.
I intend to get back to regular posts here to keep you all apprised of developments. Please share them with your writer friends and let’s build this community of nature-loving writers. Together, we changed lives with Writing for Peace. Panhandle Creek Press will be a new beginning, a way to cultivate kindness and celebrate hard work.
Copyright © 2025 Carmel Mawle. All rights reserved.
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.
