Winter’s coming, and the crisp chill in the air, the freaky snowstorm that hit New York in October, and the resurgence of pumpkin-flavored coffees/cookies/cakes etc (is this just an American thing, I wonder?) made me nostalgic for warmer times.

Bonfire, Inishmore, Aran Islands

Or rather, HOTTER times.

The Bonfire night on St. John’s Eve, which occurred the same week as the Summer Solstice, was a beautiful celebration on Inishmore that I was lucky enough to attend this past summer. We gathered with friends around the bonfires, first in Mainistir then in Iarairne, being warmed by the heat emanating from the flames. It was a total, full-body kind of warmth, comforting and energizing.

Bonfire, Inishmore, Aran Islands

I watched the fire grow over the course of the night. What began as a few crackling embers fast became an inferno. Sparks flew up into the deep blue sky, like falling stars in reverse.

Sparks flying! Inishmore, Aran Islands

As dusk fell and the sky turned dark, the fire really started roaring, eating up every piece of wood in its way.

Bonfire, Inishmore, Aran Islands

The fires burned late into the night, with crowds coming and going, people bringing food and drinks, singing in Irish, or in English, or sometimes being quiet and reflective. A group of young men and women came by the Iarairne fire with a small guitar and serenaded the group with “Hallelujah.” I was asked to sing a song, and so I sang an old ballad I remembered from my high school chorus days. The song ends with the verse: “And I will come again my love, though it were ten thousand miles.” Fitting, since I was leaving Inishmore the very next day.

Over the summer, the weather on the Aran Islands may not have reached what I consider a warm climate (NYC can be over 100 degrees F during the summer) but I could always count on being warmed somewhere, somehow, by the light of a fire.