06 - Stone Circles and Rhubarb Fools

When band camp ended, it was summer’s end, too. The girls returned to school and shared stories of summer vacation with their long lost friends. They also settled in for the wet white winter yet to come.

As autumn arrived, the great wild way of County Kerry turned from summertime’s emerald isle to autumn’s sun burnt coast.

September unfurled and the girls took yet another trip to the Donaldson’s farm. There was only room for three girls in the front seat with Grandpa, so Meg and Sallie rode in the back. Wind whipped across their faces, but they held on tight and enjoyed the scenery as the truck led them along that same county road to the farm. Even with that familiar feeling, there was a sense of excitement. Grandpa Jack was always full of surprises.

Trees flashed by. Leaves in bright red, green, and gold, painted the landscape and filled the girls imaginations. When the pickup rose over a bluff, Korrit pointed out the window. A collection of rocks stood alone in the clearing.

“What’s that, Grandpa?”

“It’s called a stone henge.”

“I thought Stonehenge was in England.”

“Stonehenge is in England, but all stone circles are called henges. They’re ancient monuments built thousands of years ago. They’re all over Ireland as well as England.”

“Let’s go see it!” exclaimed Chelsea.

Grandpa Jack turned onto a side road and went directly away from the farm. It took both Meg and Sallie by surprise. Sallie popped her head through the rear view window.

“Grandpa, you’re going the wrong way!”

“I bet I’m not,” he replied, “just sit back and relax. We’ll get to where we’re going, wherever that may be.”

As the pickup truck neared the standing stones, it became obvious to Sallie that Grandpa Jack was not going the wrong way at all.

 “Wow!” said Chelsea, “they must be fifty meters tall.”

“Quit exaggerating,” scolded Sallie.

Grandpa chuckled.

“I’d say they’re less than ten meters high.”

Grandpa was just about right, too. The pickup truck parked at the edge of the field and the group of five hiked towards the standing stones. They were arranged like Stonehenge, only there were no lentils laying across the top of the upright stones.

“Why do you think these were put here?” asked Chelsea as she stood next to one of the stones and reached as high as she could. The monolith dwarfed her.

“There are several ideas about that,” said Grandpa, “but I suppose two ring the most true.”

Grandpa stood between two stones and peered across the horizon at the setting sun. He squinted his eyes.

“First, if you stand over here and look through the circle, you can see the sun sitting between two of the stones. As the year progresses and the earth rotates, the sun sets at a different point on the horizon. Ancient people used the standing stones as a calendar. The sun’s position helped them plant and harvest crops.”

Chelsea walked through the circle, crossing the circular ditch before hiking up the small slope to the mound at the circle’s center. That is where she sat herself down.

“What’s this mound in the middle?”

“Ah!” said Grandpa Jack, “it could be a burial mound. Skeletons have been found below many of these sites.”

“Eek!” Chelsea jumped up and immediately ran out of the circle.

“They’re not going to hurt you,” chuckled Grandpa, “those skeletons have probably turned to dust by now.”

“Turned to dust?”

“Just like autumn leaves that fall to the ground, everything that dies decays. It turns to dust and the nutrients feed the soil.”

Chelsea rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“They’re part of the soil?”

“We’re all connected,” said Grandpa, “the ancient druids who lived in the Stone Age depended on the earth for everything they did. They didn’t have metals like we do today. Their tools were made of stone and they relied on their farming skills for food.”

“Weren’t these the druids?” asked Meg.

“Of course they were. Little is known about the druids, but they were an Irish farming culture that lived in ancient times. They also believed in magic, like the healing powers of herbs and spell casting.”

“Our father doesn’t like those sorts of things.”

“He has a right to feel that way, but the druids will always be an important part of Ireland’s past. We carry on many of their traditions to this very day.”

Sallie gave a little cough. Meg did, too. Without realizing it, the cold weather had chilled each and every one of them to the bone. When Grandpa Jack realized it, he offered a solution.

“Maybe we should go home and try some of Grandma’s Georgina’s bergamot tea and some wild onion soup.”

The girls were ready to go and the idea of warming themselves by the fire was a welcome thought. Arms and legs developed cramps as everyone squished into the front seat with Grandpa. Luckily, it wasn’t a very long trip at all.

Everyone was excited when the pickup turned onto the long narrow drive, passing by Connor and the other livestock in the pasture. Chelsea called out to him. He just lowered his head and nibbled on the wilted springs of purple clover.

“Alright girls,” Grandpa Jack said, “let’s all get inside and see if we can get warm.”

Everyone hurried inside, where Grandma Georgina was hard at work.

“Where have you been?”

“We took a little side trip,” Grandpa replied.

Sallie’s cough, loud and sharp, cut through the quietness of the room.

“Did you take them outside in this weather?”

“Grandma,” said Chelsea, “we visited Stonehenge.”

“It wasn’t Stonehenge,” Meg corrected, “it was the old stone henge just over the hill.”

“Jack, you could’ve chosen a better day to go tromping outdoors.”

“But the girls wanted to see it and if you just fix some Bergamot tea…”

Grandma glanced at Grandpa for a split second. Then, she pulled the bottle of dried mint leaves marked ‘Bergamot’ from the cupboard and tossed a pinch of leaves into the teakettle. The smell of fresh mint filled the air, as if the teakettle had been waiting for a pinch of mint all morning long.

“You’ll all be feeling better in no time.”

Grandma Georgina had also been working on another of her delicious stews. This time, it was a traditional Irish stew with lamb chops, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and onions.

“Since you’ve dilly-dallied at the henge, you’ve given my stew time to become fully finished.”

She dumped full ladles of her Irish stew into large bowls and served them to the girls and Grandpa Jack, too. As they sat near the hearth, everyone warmed from the outside in and from the inside out, too. Meanwhile, Grandpa Jack couldn’t resist the opportunity to spin a yarn. He’d take the children to Narnia, just as the Irish authror Cliff Lewis had taken him when he was just a child.

“And so it was,” said Grandpa Jack, “that Lucy and Edmund were sleeping in the guest bedroom of their cousin Eustace and above them hung this old, worn out and ignored painting. Within the painting, the ocean stirred a Brigadoon, a great exploring vessel named the Dawn Treader. As the two were joined by their cousin, the three of them were drawn…no…compelled back into the magic land of Narnia, where they’d been once before…”

Grandpa Jack, who had always taken a particular fancy to Irish magic and folklore, also found himself quite amused with C.S. Lewis, the author of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as well as all the Chronicles of Narnia. His grandchildren loved when he told tales, especially those of the mighty lion Aslan, the wicked White witch, and the wardrobe – an extra-ordinary closet that teleported the story’s children (as well as its readers) to far away places.

After quite some while, Grandma Georgina had finished the dessert she’d been making in the kitchen. Anyway, now was as good a time as any – so she interrupted Grandpa Jack just this one time.

“Alright,” she said, “who wants Rhubarb Fool with fresh ice cream?”

Everyone rushed to the sink and quickly rinsed their dishes. Grandma Georgina filled their bowls with vanilla ice cream and added the Rhubarb Fool.

Rhubarb Fool was constructed by simmering cubes of fresh Rhubarb in a saucepan with sugar. After it came to a boil, she set it in the freezer to cool. Meanwhile, she whipped fresh Kerry cream and mixed it with yogurt. She folded the cream and yogurt mixture into the rhubarb. It made a sweet and yummy dish that looked like a mix of creamy frozen fruit. As Grandpa Jack and the girls ate the Rhubarb Fool, it tasted about as good as creamy frozen fruit, too.

“Alright,” said Grandma Georgina as the girls finished their dessert, “it’s off to bed with you.”

“But Grandpa’s not finished telling his story,” groaned Chelsea.

“Do you know how long that story is? There will be plenty of chances to finish it some other time.”

The girls jumped into their pajamas and hurried off to the trundle beds upstairs.

“Codladh sámh,” said Grandma as she tucked the girls into their beds. Sleep peaceful is what she said.

“Codladh sámh,” said Korrit as she kissed Grandma lightly on the cheek. Grandma Georgina placed a gentle hand upon the side of Korrit’s face and planted a kiss right on the end of her grand-daughter’s nose. Korrit, like all the Cahill girls, closed her eyes and dreamt peaceful dreams.

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