Friday, 21 June 2013

Solstice



Summer solstice stirred the old pagan soul and drove me from sleep at 4 a.m. to the beach to see the sunrise.

The Knowe

There is a mound at the south end that noses into the North Sea. 
 I know it is a fluvio-glacial deposit pushed up by ancient snows and melt-water when the world was a lot younger but it does have a symmetry that suggests the hand of man.
It is at the end of a winding right-of-way that starts at the site of our 14th century priory, itself built on earlier religious foundations. 
The priory site was probably a pagan sacred place standing, as it does, on the high ground between two streams.
 In post-Roman Britain, the legendary king., Lucius was reported by Geoffrey of Monmouth, the Christian chronicler, to have deliberately converted all the old temples to churches. This is supported as historical fact by the discussion in the famous letter from Pope Gregory to Augustine preaching among the Anglo-Saxons ,advising him not to destroy the pagan sites but to convert them to Christian churches. 
 There are Anglo-Saxon graves near the Priory.
 The Angles of Northumbria probably took over the site from their Brythonic predecessors and they from earlier peoples.



The sunrise

The processional way from the old shrine to the beach and the knowe is still there.
Not proof but I like to think so.

The brightening sky

 
Today was a bit disappointing as it was for the hordes that descended on Stonehenge.  The skies were overcast and no sun could be seen at the eastern horizon.    Still the beach was deserted apart from the cries of the terns fishing and the chorus of birdsong.  The fluting of the whaups* and the piping of the sea pyats* gave an eerie cadence to the air, an atmosphere that wouldn’t have been found in the bustle around the stones at the world heritage site. 
I left to return home wondering if I was right and folk had once processed down to the hill to see the sunrise.  If not then it should have happened.

Daybreak


Back in the prosaic, everyday world of the Lowland Scot, the thoughts will be typically downbeat… “ Aye, the nights’ll be drawing in now”.
As P.G. Wodehouse put it … It’s never hard to distinguish a Scotsman from a ray of sunshine.
*  A whaup is a curlew and a sea-pyat is an oystercatcher.

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