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| "Harbor Seal" Photograph by Terry Wood (my talented brother!) |
'Tis the month we celebrate all things Irish, and having a husband with Irish ancestry, I'm happily wearin' a lot of the green and baking up the Soda Bread. Ireland is a country aglow with wondrous legend and lore so I am happy to share an excerpt from my novel, Sea Snow--the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse, in which a young Irish lad relates his story of the Selkie his family claims as part of its ancestry. Selkies are also known as Seal People, Silkies, and Kelpies-- those mysterious beings who are people in seal's clothing.
Excerpt from Sea Snow-- the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse:
July 29, 1898
…“Now,” I said,
settling myself in front of him at the table, “just what is a selkie?”
“Well,” he began, wiping his milk
mustache away with his blue cotton sleeve, “some folks say my
great-great-great-grandma was a selkie and that’s why we have this color hair,”
he said, running a hand through his shock of thick, black hair.
“Your great-great-great-grandma was a
seal?”
“No, no,” he said, laughing and shaking
his head at my ignorance, “a selkie—there’s a big difference, you know.”
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| "Seals on Ice" Photograph by Terry Wood |
“Nope, I don’t know. Please explain,
Danny.”
“This is what Auntie Kate told me—it
seems my great-great-great-grandpa was comin’ home late one night after a long
day fishin’. He’d just pulled his boat up on the beach behind a pile of rocks
when he heard them.”
Danny paused to dip his cookie into his
milk and bite off the dripping half. He sat there contemplatively chewing
awhile. I waited.
“He crawled up over the rocks and saw a
big group of seals squirmin’ their way onto the beach—except they weren’t seals
at all, ‘cause, one by one, their black skins split clear down the back and out
stepped a man or a woman. The men were big and well muscled and the women were
the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen, with long, black hair hangin’ down
their bare backs. The moon was full that night and he could see everything,
nearly plain as day. As each selkie left its skin, it ran and joined the
others—laughin’ and dancin’ in the sand.
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| "The Selkie" Photograph by Kathryn Louise Wood |
“He saw one step out of her seal skin
that took his breath away—her skin was the color of moonlight and her eyes were
as dark as the night sea. As soon as she danced off with the rest of the
selkies, Grandpa dashed over to the empty skin and snatched it. He hid it in a
sack in the bottom of his boat beneath his fishin’ net. Then, he went back and
peeked over the rocks at the selkies. He stayed there all night, watchin’ and
waitin’.
“Just before dawn,
when the air grew stiff and cold, the selkies made their way back to the sea’s
edge to find their skins. They slipped back into them and launched themselves
into the tide—lookin’ for all the world like an ordinary bunch of seals…all
except for one. She searched and searched, racin’, wild-like, around the beach
as her friends quietly departed. When they’d all left and she stood there
alone, tremblin’ with fright, Grandpa walked from behind the rocks with his
coat in his hand.
“ ‘Don’t be
afraid,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of you, now.’
“She stared at him with those shiny,
black eyes, the sun just beginnin’ to lighten the sky. He saw her heave a great
sigh and her white shoulders lower. She knew what had happened and, like all
selkies, she resigned herself to her fate. Grandpa placed his coat over her
bare skin and led her to his house. They were wed the very next day and she
became a quiet and obedient wife, blessin’ him with five children.
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| "By the Sea" Photograph by Kathryn Louise Wood |
“One day, many years later, she was
diggin’ in her vegetable garden when her hoe struck somethin’ hard. She
scratched all the dirt away and found an iron chest beneath the ground. She
pulled it up and pried it open to find her seal skin, her husband buried there
so long ago. She dropped her hoe and ran down to the beach, clutchin’ the skin
tightly to her breast. Her youngest child, a girl about ten years old at the
time, saw her and chased after her. When the selkie reached the water’s edge,
she threw off her clothes and wrapped the skin about her. By the time her
daughter reached her, all that was left was her mother’s empty dress lyin’
there on the sand. Her seal mother dove into the sea before her eyes.
“ ‘Ma!’ she cried.
“The selkie raised
her seal head above the waves and stared at the little girl a long time, then
rolled into the sea. From then on a seal could be seen, from time to time,
driftin’ just off shore, watchin’ the beach closely, especially when Grandpa or
any of his children were down there. They say it was the selkie, keepin’ watch
over her human family.”
Danny stopped and took a big gulp of
milk.
“Oh, my,” I said, feeling a lump rise in
my throat despite my rationality telling me it was just a fairy tale.
I went to the window and looked at the
seal, still lolling on the rocks with Noah.
“If your seal’s a selkie, it would
explain what I saw the other night,” Danny said through a mouthful of cookie
crumbs.
“What do you mean,” I asked, turning back
to him.
“Uncle Samuel and I were out moonlight
fishin’, when I saw a woman standin’ out there on
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| Front Cover of Sea Snow by Kathryn Louise Wood |
those rocks,” Danny said,
rising and pointing toward the rocks near the dock.
“She had long, black hair and bare arms.
I couldn’t tell if she had any clothes on ‘cause of the moon shadows. I pointed
her out to Uncle Samuel and asked if it was the lady who lives at the
lighthouse. He turned around and looked at her. First, he squinted his eyes and
then they got real big, and his mouth dropped open.
“ ‘What is it,
Uncle?’ I asked. ‘Who is she?’
“ ‘It’s nothin’,
Danny,’ he said, ‘just shadows and moonlight, shadows and moonlight.’
“And he turned us around and headed home
even though we hadn’t caught any fish yet. I know there was a lady there and I
know, now, it wasn’t you—so it must have been a selkie.”
Danny planted his elbows on the
windowsill, chin resting in his hands.
“Perhaps you’re right, Danny,” I said,
fighting hard to control my voice, “a selkie.”
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| "My Irish Soda Bread" Baked and Photographed by Kathryn Louise Wood |
Have a good couple weeks, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...y'all come back now! And Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Kate
(You can read more about my novel,
Sea Snow, the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse, at
http://seasnowhauntedlighthouse.com/)
by Lilly Higgins
