4/10/2007
This is one of the current exhibitions at the Royal Academy at the moment. If you’re interested in the antiquarian investigation of Druidic (Neolithic, Bronze Age, Iron Age remains) it’s worth a visit. I went today and really enjoyed it – so much so that I bought the catalogue. There’s a whole section on Stonehenge including a picture from the 12th Century Roman de Brut by Wace showing Merlin casually lifting one of the sarsen stones to transport it from Ireland (Wace’s take on the origin of Stonehenge) to Wiltshire. There are portraits of famous antiquaries including Stukely and plans of Avebury. There are lots of interesting pictures of old buildings in London and grave goods of gold and amber. Not to mention a Roman cavalry helmet with the face of a god for a visor. I know we don’t like the Romans but this is breathtaking.
Highly recommended for the intelligent and aesthetically inclined Druid.
I arrived at Sydenham Hill railway station to find Greg, Cilla and the organisers, Lorraine and Daniel sitting on a bench under some impressive trees. We were joined by a new arrival, Moya, and while waiting for others we adjourned across the road to introduce ourselves to Moya and discuss our feelings about the autumn at this point in the year when the days and nights are momentarily in balance.
We had to wait a while as first Chris, then Hilde, and finally after an epic drive through South London, Jo and Mike joined us. But it was a beautiful day with golden berries and green leaves.
Then it was into the Dulwich Woods, past a pagan offering hanging from a bough. The trees quickly became dense and we had to clamber over a couple of fallen trees on the way to the glade that Lorraine and Daniel had selected for the ceremony.
It was a simple but thought provoking rite in which we were able to acknowledge the positive aspects of autumn as well as the sense of depression and loss that some of us felt as the darker days approached. I’d brought some hazel nuts from my parents’ garden and the ears of corn I had gathered at West Kennet earlier in the summer around Lughnasadh. These we put in the centre of the circle. We stood under an oak tree as we had done at Midsummer. As we celebrated the season together the squirrels scampered through the branches and a robin flitted restlessly from ground to holly bush. Clearly we had invaded its territory. At intervals, showers of acorns fell down around us though whether this was the oak celebrating or rejecting our presence was impossible to say. It felt to me like a blessing.
I had passed into that time outside of time which rituals induce when I heard the words “It is the hour of recall.” So soon ?
Afterwards we ate and drank (no mead alas) and Lorraine and I read a couple of poems. And then some of us went up the hill to the pub…
