A magical tree and home to the Fairies
The Hawthorn Tree—Ireland’s Fairy Tree
The Hawthorn, also known as the Whitethorn, is Ireland’s fairy tree. It guards the entrances to the Sídhe, the Otherworld home of the fair folk. The hawthorn bursts into white blooms in spring or Maytime, and is associated with Bealtaine, the Celtic festival on May first that celebrates the coming of summer.
If you’ve read my series, you know that Tommy Kennedy has a hawthorn in his back yard. Friends from his home in the Otherworld live beneath its roots. They provide him guidance and support. Another bit of fiction I’ve created connects the root systems of every hawthorn in Ireland, forming a safe mode of travel for those from the Otherworld.
Trees have always mattered in Ireland. In ancient times, the land was covered with forest, and the Druids believed trees had spirits of their own. Trees were so revered that the creators of Ogam, the first alphabet of Ireland, named the letters after trees. (Ireland’s Trees: Myths, Legends and Folklore, by Niall Mac Coitir.) Four hundred years of deforestation have turned the ancient woodland into the patchwork of green fields and hedgerows Ireland is known for today.
Today, the hedgerows are often hawthorn bushes. These hedges run along properties, their thorny branches crowding close to narrow country lanes, making driving a tricky business. Hawthorns are also found in fields and in yards, and some claim they keep homes safe. But be careful of interfering with a hawthorn. Stories abound of harm befalling anyone who harms or uproots a Hawthorn bushes. It’s best not to take down a hawthorn tree or hurt it in any way lest you provoke the wrath of the fairies. Consider yourself warned.
Below is an excerpt from The Dreammasters where Tommy introduces Aisling to the hawthorn tree in his back yard. I hope you enjoy it.
Aisling turned to look at the large tree, the autumn leaves still clinging to many of its abundant branches while those that had fallen created a spreading red blanket on the ground. “Yes. It’s beautiful.” She stared at the tree longer, and her voice was hushed when she spoke again. “Glowing, even.”
“Aye, that it is.” Tommy matched her tone, his being vibrating in time with the light filling and spilling from within the tree. That she could see the light told him more about Aisling than any report from Emer about training ever could. “It’s a hawthorn tree, also called a fairy tree.” He bent lower, pointing. “If you look closely, you’ll see small dwellings under the tree.”
Aisling squinted, leaning over the arm of her chair. “Yes, I see something,” she said with a rushed exhalation. She sat back, her eyes wide, and looked at him. “What’s there, Tommy?”
He touched her hand. “Follow me and see.” Tommy stood. Aisling waited a beat, then did as well.
They walked side by side to the tree overhanging the back corner of his garden, stopping where the farthest branches came close to the ground. Molten light seeped from under the branches, emitting a gentle warmth that flowed into his pores. The feeling of home. The thing he missed the most. He glanced at Aisling standing motionless yet relaxed next to him. Her cheeks had taken on a pink flush, and he knew she felt the warmth as well.
“Peek under, lass,” he whispered.
Aisling squatted, resting her elbows on her knees, and watched, her breathing shallow. A minute later, she spoke softly. “I see houses and little doors in the tree’s trunk. There are paths between each of the dwellings.” She paused a moment. “It’s like a tiny town.”
“Yes,” he whispered, kneeling on one knee next to her. “Do you see anything else?” He paused. “Don’t doubt your eyes, Aisling. Believe what they show you.”
She focused, silent for several minutes, and then started and almost fell backward. “Tommy.” She reached over and grabbed his arm to steady herself. “Something’s moving.” She dropped to her knees, creeping closer to the base of the trunk. “No way,” she said, transfixed. Aisling sat back on her heels and looked up at him, her mouth agape, too overcome to speak. Finally, she found her words. “It looks like the small creatures I saw in the mist. They flew with me.” Her eyes shone at the memory. “Do they live here?”
Tommy nodded, meeting her smile with his own. “They’d be what you’d call pixies, and some of them do live here. Although many visit and go back.” He rested his elbows on his raised knee. “I awoke a few mornings after I moved into the house and discovered the village. The hawthorn was one reason I bought this house, being from the fairy realm myself, but I hadn’t expected some of my fairy friends to join me and offer their help and support.” He placed a hand on her back. “They only allow a select few to see them, you know.”
A depiction of Aisling and Tommy at the hawthorn tree in Tommy’s garden.
I hope you’ve enjoyed learning a bit more about the hawthorn tree and its connection to Irish fairy lore. If you want to see how the hawthorn shows up in my stories, make sure to grab the books.
Until next time,
Kelley
