mapping my muse: the dykelands’ girl in words & photographs

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Writing 101: Day 17

I’ve often written of living in a tiny house next to an apple orchard. Those halcyon days when seasons, sunshine, ancient dykelands, Suzy (the wonder dog), planting, tending, harvesting, learning spun my tales. Eagles perched on trees outside the door; downhill cross-country skiing across the creek. Walks on the dykelands; rippling, undulating sea-grass. Multiple-bloom mutant sunflowers; berry-stained fingers and chins. Acres of reds, golds, oranges; apple pies and scalloped potatoes.

Of course, my memory is more select than most. But the years on the farm represent the stillness before the transitions. The last of innocent hopes and dreams. Dip pen and ink to calligraphize. Love unconditional.

I am not the same woman who lived and played there. She is one of my former lives. But, I think of her fondly. She wasn’t to know the cartography of decisions made, dreams ignited. She couldn’t foretell pain, passion, and passings. She believed in elves, magic charms, laughter. She was not yet consumed by the darkness. I miss her.

I created several Google Earth maps of the same area to share, with running commentary of the memories and the todays.

Now a winery, vines replace the apple orchard; the little house is gone. Barns replaced by large winery building. Only a few of the eagle trees remain.

But the shape of the marsh dykelands still change with each tide. The tamed still are tilled and act as pasture. Roads still wind along the dyke tops. The copse of trees where Suzy (the wonder dog) lies buried continue to guard her grave. Birds still migrate with the seasons. Strange to come home to half memories.

Embedded, notated, ready to move from draft to published post. Then a strange notion: what if my dykelands name is also embedded in my guided walking tour? I froze. This blog has been my fictional autobiography. Keeping a distance between who I am and who I write.

And, then I thought: don’t zoom in too close. Don’t name names.

I can only be your tour guide to my past.

PS: First attempt at a gallery/slide-show! It’s redundant but . . .

All photographs (c) copyright phylor (tale weaver/ing) 2015

(c) phylor (tale weaver/ing) 2015


7 thoughts on “mapping my muse: the dykelands’ girl in words & photographs

    • phylor December 1, 2015 / 7:36 pm

      Thank you.
      The mapping was an amazing experience. Maybe someday I’ll either become less shy, and reveal the maps, or retire this blog and reveal all.


  1. Suzanne November 26, 2015 / 5:59 pm

    I think this freezing before publishing happens a lot. At the very end we are suddenly full of doubt – have I said enough? – have I said too much ? – have I told it right? It is interesting – after our last brief chat I found my mind returning to my stories. Maybe I need to finish them, tidy them up and publish them. Maybe it is necessary in order to move forward.
    You write beautifully and weave a magical spell. Maybe publishing is part of your healing. Being a tour guide to your own past – what a wonderful description. Maybe in so doing you will illuminate a path for others.


    • phylor December 1, 2015 / 7:55 pm

      With low energy reserves, I let the dustbunnies pile up.
      Good luck with whatever endeavours you undertake. Energy is a precious commodity. I wish you a never-ending source of energy for your mind, your body, your spirit, your soul, your heart.


      • Suzanne December 1, 2015 / 10:30 pm

        My energy is all over the place right now. All the best with your projects too. :)


  2. Colline November 26, 2015 / 8:12 am

    What a beautiful place to spend some time Phylor. I know I would miss it.
    Your gallery is beautiful and I enjoyed looking through it :)


    • tale weaver/ing December 1, 2015 / 7:34 pm

      Thanks, Colline, for the nice comment. It was a beautiful place to live.


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