Summer Solstice Character Walks In

A year ago I was wondering about the date of Summer Solstice, since it varies from year to year. I checked online and as often happens other related sites popped up. One was the story of an Irish goddess named Áine associated with midsummer and the sun. And as if I had called for her a child by the name of Ainne just walked onto my screen. I tweaked the spelling to give it the sound I heard.

Ainne of Éire has now become the protagonist in the third book of my trilogy set in the eighth century B.C. On this Summer Solstice I celebrate her because I’m now in the process of writing her story. An exciting time when inspiration flowers and a story takes life.

The many stone circles along the Atlantic seaboard, including Ireland and Britain, appear to be situated to mark the passage of the seasons, including the solstices and the equinoxes. Above is the sacred stone circle of Ainne’s clan in the south of Éire, the Golden Eagle Clan, the circle called today the Bohonagh Stone Circle. It’s set on a rise in ground in the middle of a cow pasture. Looking westward you can see through the two portal stones to the aligning recumbent stone opposite.

Ainne’s clan circle in its entirety, shown above as I approached it from the other direction, climbing up the hill, looking eastward, the recumbent stone in the foreground, the portals on the far side.

And here I am at the better known Stonehenge on Britain’s Salisbury Plain, shown above. Stonehenge also aligns to mark the solstices. This famous stone circle plays a part in a related series that will follow my trilogy.

And these, above, in the fine stone circle near Ainne’s, home of the neighboring Red Deer Clan, known today as the Drombeg Stone Circle. I’m here with the wonderful host of the nearby Rosalithir B&B, Catherine O’Sullivan, who drove my friend and I there. This circle is protected under Ireland’s National Monument Act. Near the highway R 597 it is easily accessed and well maintained.

And probably the oldest I’ve seen, above, the Cromlech Almendres in Portugal, perhaps as much as 7,000 years old. This fine circle in a cork oak forest also appears in one of my stories.

And, above, the Castlerigg Stone Circle, my Red Fox Clan circle, beautifully set in a wider ring of mountains in England’s Lake District, probably the oldest in Britain, roughly 5,000 years old, though recent discoveries at Stonehenge suggest activity around that site that may go back as much as 5,000 years.

One might think the past would be static, but no. Archaeologists keep digging, and the stories change.

Happy solstice! Enjoy the extended light on this longest day of the year. Cheers!

Going There: Postscript

We flew out of Shannon airport on our homeward-bound journey. Lynn and I had bought our tickets separately so we weren’t seated together. For the Shannon-Philadelphia leg of the trip I took my seat by the window and a couple of young Irishmen sat beside me. They were on their way to San Francisco, a place where I had lived for eight years. So as the plane lifted off I left their world as they looked forward to visiting mine. They had both just turned 21. Their boisterous excitement was infectious and I laughed with them, caught in their delight.

Me with Irish Travelers Stephen Kelliher (center) and David Harnett (right)

My trip wasn’t quite over. Setbacks awaited me in Los Angeles when our Philadelphia-LA plane landed late in LAX, where we had a short connection. Seated in the very last row, I had trouble getting past the other passengers, and we had long lines and two slow buses across the tarmac to reach my gate. Lynn was well ahead of me.

By the time I found my gate, panting from my run, there were no passengers left, just an attendant standing alone at the gate. She asked me if I was Janet Fisher. Hopeful they were waiting for me, I answered yes in a gasping voice. She phoned the plane and shook her head at me. “They’ve already left. You’re too late.”  No! That couldn’t be. “My friend is already on the plane,” I told her. “I have to be on that plane.”

The phone rang. The pilot had agreed to open the door for me. The plane hadn’t actually pulled away. I broke into tears. The attendant led me to the plane’s door. Once inside, I stumbled down the aisle as passengers applauded with smiling faces. Lynn was beaming and gave me a big hug when I sat down, still crying softly. She had begged them to wait, certain I was coming.

Exhausted, I settled back in the seat for the last leg of our journey, slowly recovering from that arduous finale to a long and wonderful trip—37 days of exploring the world of my ancient series.

Port of Tiryns (Nafplio, Greece)

Outlaw Hideout (Buttermere, Lake District, England)

During those 37 days I became steeped in the past, as I sought the places that define these stories.

Alabaster Chair, Knossos (Crete)

Golden Eagle Circle (Bohonagh, near Rosscarbery, Ireland)

I had the good fortune of meeting several archeologists whose work takes them into the ancient times. And others who simply love their history.

Fábio and Sónia, Archeologists at Zambujal, Unexpected Guides (Portugal)

Mário, Archeologist, Guide on Megalithic Tour at Almendres Cromlech (Portugal)

I felt the raw edge of cultures different from my own and the universal embrace of friendly people.

Streets of Fira, Santorini (Greece)

Catherine and Me at Drombeg Circle (near Rosscarbery, Ireland), photo by Lynn

I immersed myself in the book settings and felt my characters walking along these places. As I walked with them I remembered their tears and joys. My own tears came, and my joy.

Headland at Fodhele Beach (Crete, Greece)

Santorini Evening (Greece)

The novels will be richer for the experience.