Writing Old Sins, a Tale of Wild Justice in the Emerald Isle
According to the Book of Invasions (thought to be written by Christian monks), Ireland was originally settled by the descendants of Noah, who arrived some three hundred years after the Flood. Generations later, plague infested the land, killing most of the inhabitants. Those who survived migrated north to other lands, where they learned about divination, druidism, and philosophy. Returning to Ireland, they called themselves the Tuatha Dé Danann, or people of Danu, the great earth goddess, and lived in peace until the warlike Celts came. To prevent bloodshed, the Tuatha took up residence in grassy mounds and ancient hills, beneath thorn trees and circles. Their love for Ireland was so strong, they could not leave. (Old Ways, Old Secrets, Jo Kerrigan).
What a great setting for a mystery novel! In Old Sins, poet Maria Pell visits Ireland to research ancient Celts as source material for a book of poems. Since little exists in the form of written material, she relies on faerie trees, mysterious mounds, sacred stones, and artifacts for inspiration, and attempts to get inside the minds and hearts of ancient people, who walked the earth as extensions of the natural world, taking shelter where they could—under trees or in caves. Faith, perhaps, became synonymous with shelter. Trees gave cover, and in some cases, as with oaks and their acorns, also provided food.
Worship of trees, particularly the oak, was a natural outcome. The oak, and other trees were considered sacred with magical properties. Esteemed for longevity, the oak represented wisdom, stability, and sovereignty. Kings were consecrated under the oak. St. Bridgid built her cell under an oak. A deity directed St. Brendan to use oak boards to build the boat that may have transported him to North America over a thousand years before Columbus.
Could trees have a secret world? And could the ancients, with their affinity to nature, have known about it? In The Hidden Life of Trees, Peter Wohlleben claims trees are social beings that communicate through root systems, sending nutrients to each other when in need—particularly to old venerable stumps they wish to keep alive. Stumps may be parent trees, necessary to survival in ways not yet understood. Other studies have shown that trees communicate with each other through smell, and perhaps even sound. Have you ever heard the crackling of roots?
I wish I had read Wohlleben’s book before writing mine. It would have allowed me to provide a richer understanding of pagan thought and practice.
A Maria Pell Mystery, Book 3
Battered by her archeologist lover's betrayal, poet Maria Pell flees to an Irish village to study prehistoric people and write her next volume of poetry, but her sanctuary is invaded first by her moody cousin and then by her Togolese lover, who unexpectedly shows up on her doorstep. When the discovery of a girl's body on a nearby beach reawakens a devastating childhood memory, Maria's days become haunted. As teenage girls disappear, villagers are terrified that sex-traffickers are targeting their community. With crimes to be solved, both past and present, Maria risks her life to bring the perpetrators to justice.
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