The Green Man's Toast

It was dark still and Ed’s eyes were beginning to droop. He looked at his watch again, trying to make out the position of the hands in what little moonlight there was. 4.20 am. Five minutes since the last time he looked. With a sigh he let his arms drop by his sides then wrapped them around his knees as he sat. Despite the warm summer night, the grass was cold under him. He didn’t think to bring something to sit on. Most of the people around him weren’t sitting anymore, they chatted excitedly in their small groups. Ed could see some of the Morris dancers were getting set up ready for the sunrise, the rhythmical chiming of their bells grating against the largely white noise of the chatter around him. At least it was helping to keep him awake, he thought. 

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He came here for a reason, although in this moment, having been sitting here since the previous evening, that reason escaped him. He hoped the thousands of people around him, all of which had come here to the Stones for the summer solstice, would give him a sense of togetherness or maybe some vague sense of belonging that he couldn’t quite articulate. Now he was here, he couldn’t feel it. As they waited for the sun to rise, each group around him may as well have been on their own planets, all orbiting together but distinctly and irrevocable separate from his own. 

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He looked at his watch again. 4.24am. Twenty-five minutes or so to go. Then he could finally walk back to his car and get back to his life. He’d lived close to Stonehenge for a number of years now, and like most people locally, had only really seen the site as he’d driven past it, being forced to slow to a snails pace as everyone else slowed to look at a sight they must’ve already seen a thousand times in images or on TV. During previous solstices, Ed had made sure to stay away as the hordes descended but even so, he’s always noticed the uptick in visitors. The large campervans parked up, the odd person walking around in long robes and the groups of tourists trying to work out the best form of public transport to the stones. Every year, the same comments came from his friends and family. 

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 “You should go, you live so close!”  and every year he’d inwardly roll his eyes and respond something like:  “ Yes, maybe I will one year.”

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Perhaps it was a misguided attempt to silence the constant prodding, or maybe he'd simply succumbed to years of peer pressure. Whatever the reason, Ed now found himself here, cold, tired, and thoroughly regretting his decision. Stifling yet another yawn, he couldn't help but think that this whole endeavour had been a colossal waste of time. The novelty of being at Stonehenge for the solstice had worn off hours ago, leaving behind only boredom and a growing desire to be anywhere else but here. 

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Ed shifted uncomfortably, the dew damp grass now seeping through his jeans. Through the crowds who were mostly now on their feet, he glanced up at the ancient stones. They were impressive in size but like all other stones, looked lifeless and cold to him. Around him, he could hear parts of conversations about ley lines and earth energy as people talked excitedly about their experiences.  

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He pulled out his phone in an attempt to block them out, his eyes squinting in the harsh blue light. No signal. Of course. He pulled up his to-do list for tomorrow… no, today. It was a workday, he had several client meetings later, a call with his boss, some invoices to prepare, the usual. A moth fluttered past his face. Ed swatted it away with an irritated grunt. As he did so, a deep gentle voice beside him chuckled softly. 

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“They’re drawn to the light, you know. They’ve lived so long with just the moon and the stars, they’re not familiar with these new lights. They’re curious, I think.” 

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Ed turned to find a man sitting next to him. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. The stranger was older. His face was weathered and with a wild, almost unkept beard. He looked at Ed with a soft, gentle smile, his eyes a bright, vibrant green which seemed to almost glow in the pre-dawn light.  

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“First time at the Stones for the solstice?” he asked. 

 

Ed nodded, surprised to find himself answering. 

 

“Yeah. I live nearby but never bothered before. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m here now.” 

 

The old man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

 

“Sometimes, we’re called to places without knowing why. The stones have a way of doing that.” 

 

Ed glanced down as the man took a sip of something from a small cup. Noticing Ed’s look, the man smiled again. 

 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I shouldn’t be drinking here. I don’t want to be thrown out tonight of all nights!” he said following it with a loud bellowing laugh. 

 

Reaching into a satchel at his side, he pulled out a thermos and another cup. The cup was unlike anything Ed had seen before. Carved from a single piece of rich, dark wood, it sat comfortably in the old man’s hand. Ed noticed the intricate leaf and vine carvings which seemed almost alive, twining around the cup’s outer circumference. Like the old man himself, that cup seemed to belonged here. 

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“Care to join me? It’s a natural brew I make myself. It helps me appreciate the moment. Works even better when it’s shared.” 

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Normally, Ed would have declined, but something about the old man was comforting. He accepted the cup, inhaling the rich, slightly earthy aroma of the liquid inside. 

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“Cheers!” the old man offered before raising his cup towards Ed and taking a sip. 

 

Ed raised his with nod and took a careful sip of his own. It tasted sweet. Of herbs and sunshine.  

 

“I come here every solstice,” the old man said, his eyes now fixed on the stones. 

 

“To celebrate the rebirth of spring, the fullness of summer. To offer a toast to a job well done for another year”.  

Ed didn’t quite understand that last part but took another sip of the sweet drink, nonetheless.  

 

“Have you been coming here long?” Ed asked, not quite knowing what else to say. 

 

The man chuckled softly.  

 

“Yes” he said simply. His smile wide and warm as he stared at the stones.  

 

“Every year things are a little different though. There are more of those now than there used to be.” He said, gesturing to the phone in Ed’s hand with his cup”.  

 

“It always amazed me how so many people come here each year, stay up all night through the dark, sometime in the rain and cold and then when the moment of sunrise finally comes, they watch it through one of those tiny screens”  

 

Ed nodded, realising he was probably going to do exactly that. Sheepishly, he slipped his phone back into his own pocket. The sky was lightening now, transforming from inky black to a softer blue on the horizon. The crowd around them began to stir with anticipation as Ed noticed several TV crews at the periphery, meticulously setting up their equipment. They were rehearsing their shots, preparing to capture the perfect moment when the sun would rise, ready to broadcast to viewers around the world. 

 

People began to jostle slightly for position as the sky lightened further, their exited chatter growing louder by the minute. Phones began to rise, their artificial glow competing with the approaching dawn.  

 

The old man sat quietly next to Ed, his weathered face serene, eyes fixed on the Eastern horizon.  

 

“Look, it’s beginning”, he murmured softly, gesturing with his cup. 

 

As the first sliver of sun peeked over the horizon, the old man stood, raising his cup.  

 

“To the sun, to the earth, to life renewed” he said softly before draining his cup.  

 

Ed found himself standing too, raising his own cup in a toast he didn’t fully understand. As he drained the liquid, the sun appeared now fully above the Heel stone, it’s sudden warmth connecting the earth beneath his feet and the now sapphire blue sky above his head.  

 

For a moment, both Ed and the old man stood in silence, taking in the scene before them.  

 

“Keep the cup” the old man said, as he turned to Ed, shaking his hand, his grip warm and strong.  

 

“Maybe I’ll see you next year.” 

 

With a final wide smile, the man turned and strode away. As Ed turned back towards the Stones, He looked down at the cup, his fingers tracing the carved wooden leaves.  

 

“Yes.”  Ed thought. “Maybe you will”.