by Wendy Hawkin | Sep 11, 2017 | history, Ireland, journal, nature, wildcrafting
Trees are powerful sentient beings who help mankind and ask for no reward, which is why this garden of trees is so fitting a memorial. Each tree in the Ringfinnan Garden of Remembrance grows for and bears the name of one firefighter or first responder lost during 9/11. There are 343 trees.
We visited the garden before we left Kinsale, Co Cork, Ireland in late July. Its creator, Kathleen Cait Murphy, was born in Kinsale but worked as a nurse for forty years in New York City at Lennox Hill Hospital. After 9/11, she decided to create the garden on her family land. It is dedicated to Father Mychal Judge, Chaplain in the New York Fire Department and personal friend of Kathleen. Though she lost her life to cancer on 29 March, 2011, the garden is still tended and is, in many ways, a tribute to the woman herself.
Wandering through the lines of trees, I read the names, ranks, and positions of those who perished. It is a sad and sombre place on a soft rise that reaches out over the countryside. Some trees cradle weatherworn shirts in their branches. Faded ballcaps adorn the monument. Over the past sixteen years, many families and friends have made a pilgrimage to this sacred place where memories live through the power of the trees.
You can follow a map to the garden via Trip Advisor.
by Wendy Hawkin | Sep 9, 2017 | journal, literature, nature, writing and publishing
What if one moon has come and gone with its world of poetry, its weird teachings, its oracular suggestions? So divine a creature, freighted with hints for me, and I not use her! One moon gone by unnoticed! Suppose you attend to the hints, to the suggestions, which the moon makes for one month,–commonly in vain,–will they not be very different from anything in literature or religion or philosophy?
Henry David Thoreau
7 Sept 1851
by Wendy Hawkin | Sep 7, 2017 | history, journal, mythology
via Photoshop Animation Reconstructs The Face Of Egyptian Queen Nefertiti
This is a fascinating post from Realm of History that offers us the faces of King Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti via facial reconstruction and photoshop animation. There are actually two videos. Click the link and scroll down to see a facial reconstruction of both the king and queen and read their story.
In this image (a reconstruction by Sven Geruschkat) Nefertiti is wearing a gold broad collar decorated with faience beads similar to the one the archaeologist discovers in my urban fantasy mystery, To Sleep with Stones. The writer also explains the political turmoil and chaos that Akhenaten created when he attempted to change the religious views of the people. My story concerns their daughter, Meritaten.
During the chaos, Meritaten flees Egypt and ends up in Scotland where she loses her gold broad collar. Twenty-five hundred years later, archaeologist Sorcha O’Hallorhan discovers it at the bottom of a well in Kilmartin Glen, a landscape rife with megaliths. Her discovery sets off a chain of events that ends in murder.
SORCHA FOUND IT IN THE MUD. Pried it from beneath a thin flat stone with tenderness and a trowel—a mud-encrusted, green-tinged, tangled mess. Dylan watched, so entranced he couldn’t breathe.
When she popped the trowel back in the faded caddy, she wore tied around her waist, he inhaled at last. Peeling off one glove, and then the other, she let them fall. As she cradled the object in her palm, her green eyes flickered as if it was speaking to her, and his mind flared again. Did she share his gift? Perhaps, have a talent for psychometry? Imagine holding a golden torque in your hand and seeing its tale unfold in cinematic brilliance. Imagine knowing whose head it adorned, where all it had travelled, and how many lives it had saved, or snuffed out.
She squatted, dipped her treasure reverently in a bucket of water; then cleansed it with her bare fingers. Sorcha was a renegade archaeologist who didn’t always follow procedure or stick to the grid. He usually admired that, but today it gave him shivers.
Kai stamped his foot like a nervous horse, and shone the torch. “Gold,” he murmured, with sly elation, and Dylan cringed, knowing he was considering the cash that could be made from the sale of such an artifact on the black market.
“Thank you, god,” she whispered, cupping it to her breast. It was just an expression—the only god she worshipped was fame. Sorcha O’Hallorhan was searching for archaeological connections between the Inner Hebrides of Scotland, where they currently stood, and a land twenty-five hundred miles southeast. Egypt. This artifact was quite possibly the connecting cord; the evidence she needed to prove a legend real and grasp that fame.
“Is it—?” asked Dylan.
“Aye lads.” She fondled the turquoise beads. Faience. Just like the beads that adorned the golden collar of King Tut. “I knew we’d find her.” She was Meritaten, eldest daughter of Egyptian King Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti. It was the stuff of story, and to prove it true would change the way the world viewed prehistory.
Kai reached out his large rough hand. He wanted to hold it.
But Sorcha drew back, slipped it in her vest pocket and began climbing the rope ladder.
They’d dug down nearly eighteen feet into a pre-Celtic holy well because Sorcha had a theory. People offered gifts to the guardians of holy wells; and sometimes too, they used them to hide things. At this depth, the team had already travelled back in time three millenniums, and unearthed a scattering of bronze axe heads, obsidian arrowheads, jet beads and pottery shards; the skull of an extinct great auk with its long curved bill still intact; the shed antlers of a stag; and sadly, a malformed infant. But that was nothing compared to this.
by Wendy Hawkin | Aug 25, 2017 | journal, mythology
sacred-texts.com
I can’t wait to experience Damh’s (pronounced Dave’s) musical retelling of the Mabinogion tales. These eleven tales were composed in the eleventh century or earlier and form the basis of Celtic mythological lore in Britain. The stories were preserved in two Welsh manuscript collections: the White Book of Rhydderch (1300-25AD) and the Red Book of Hergest (1375-1425AD) but their tales are old as time…Celtic time. And now Damh brings them to life once again with his musical genius.
via Y Mabinogi – Staying Faithful to the Tales – Damh the Bard