Patrick Holloway: Aurora borealis brought magic to an ordinary night

Witnessing the marvel brought me beyond my garden, and back to a place where magic exists, where other worlds and parallels are not fantasy

The Northern Lights at Crosshaven, Co Cork, on  January 19, 2026. Pictures: Joleen Cronin

For anyone in Cork, or Ireland for that matter, Monday, January 19, 2026, was a special evening. 

I was just in the door from yoga after a class where I felt I might finally be moving my body in ways that were incomprehensible a few short months ago. 

I took over from my wife at brushing Aurora and Luna Faye’s teeth, while she filled their water bottles. 

I struggled to get Luna to stand still to get her pyjamas over her head  — a very normal Monday evening. 

Once the girls were asleep I showered, went downstairs and sat next to my wife, who was working on her laptop. 

I took mine out, remembering I had to fill a bank form to get the first part of my advance on novel 2, and it made me slightly giddy. 

I checked my phone and a friend had sent me a picture she'd just received — a view of Crosshaven, with the sky lit a lunatic of colour.

Me and my wife ran to our back garden and in the distance saw the first hue of fandango purple, flamingoing at the horizon. 

Through the camera lens of my phone it popped, scattered across the sky in a flurry.

‘We have to wake the girls!’ I said.

Aurora, who is 7, and obviously named after the phenomenon we were witnessing, has been obsessed with the Aurora Borealis since she knew her name came from exactly that. 

Aurora, who is 7, and obviously named after the phenomenon we were witnessing, has been obsessed with the aurora borealis since she knew her name came from exactly that. 

She even came up with a story for a book, called Borealis the Dragon— I won’t say what it’s about because it’s actually quite brilliant, and we are writing it together, with her working on the drawings and me helping her with a simple storyline. 

Their cousin was also asleep in the room, and we tried to wake the three of them but they wouldn’t budge. 

Back downstairs we went and the sky was truly alive.

"I’m going back up," I said.

I shook Aurora awake again, this time showing a photo from my phone. 

Her eyes widened and her mouth took the shape of the most beautiful O. 

She jumped and started shouting her cousin and younger sister awake. 

Luna Faye, the youngest, woke and decided not to come down — later she would emerge, take one look up at the sky, and decide that sleep and whatever dream she was immersed in was much more worth her time.

Aurora and her cousin Olivia, who was staying with us for the week, visiting from Brazil, were in awe. 

They hugged, said "wow" a hundred times. 

Aurora came to me and jumped into my arms and I held her up so she could get a better view. 

The sky was now shifting to green, one sleek snake shedding its luminous skin. 

The Aurora Borealis occurs when charged particles from the sun collide with gases in Earth's upper atmosphere. 

We stayed in the garden, in the cold. I felt very present, very small but very complete.

My obsession with the northern lights started when I read His Dark Materials and for most of my life, I have reread the trilogy every December. 

The aurora borealis occurs when charged particles from the sun collide with gases in Earth's upper atmosphere. 

Of course, for a long time I thought this was located only in places far north, but because of, and thanks to, increasing solar activity, they're now appearing farther south and more frequently than usual. 

Which is why we were all so lucky to experience the phenomenon so vividly.

But witnessing the marvel brought me further, brought me beyond my garden, and back to a place where magic exists, where other worlds and parallels are not fantasy. 

I felt quite vividly the 12-year-old boy, who sat on the sofa, lost in Lyra and Will’s worlds, I felt the wonder of him, and felt like I was after crossing over some hidden line and found myself as a 37-year-old man, with two brilliant daughters, looking up at the majestic, expansive, unfathomable sky, alive and electric, I felt the currents of a past life merge with a present and I was outside of time.

When we went inside, Aurora asked if she could sleep with me. 

In bed I felt her fade into the dreamworld and I could only imagine what she was seeing. 

It took me much longer to fall asleep, for I felt like I was already sleeping, already dreaming.

Patrick Holloway is the author of The Language of Remembering. He lives in Cork.