Penmon Priory

Old Stones, Wildness & Whispers

Yesterday. A Visit to Penmon Priory and St Seirol’s Well.

There’s something about this landscape that feels older than old, like time folds in on itself here.

As I wandered through the site, I kept having the feeling that this place predates Christianity, that it has always been sacred — long before chapels or monks or stone fonts. You can sense it in the land itself.

The well sits in what feels like an ancient grove. There’s a single Cockspur Hawthorn tree, wise-looking, growing in the cool shade of surrounding Alder trees. Ivy clings to the nearby rocks like it’s been there forever. Everything about the space invites stillness. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t shout — it waits quietly for you to listen.

Inside the church, a stone font drew my attention. It has these intriguing carved patterns on it — subtle, but strange enough to make me pause. They made me wonder: are these just decoration, or are they marking something deeper? Lines of energy, maybe. I know that sounds a bit out there, but this place really does make you feel like something is moving beneath the surface.

I spotted dragon carvings too over ancient doorways that often point to powerful, liminal places in older traditions. There was even what looked like a Sheena-na-gig. It was like the older, pagan stories of the land were still here, tucked just behind the newer layers.

At the edge of the site, there’s an outcrop of ancient stone — smooth, worn edges in places, as if countless hands have passed over it. I sat there for a while. It felt like a natural seat for stillness, for letting the wind move through your thoughts. There’s wildness here, but it’s gentle, like the land remembers how to hold you.

What struck me most about Penmon is how it holds both Christian and pre-Christian energy side by side, without conflict. It’s a sacred place, in every sense — not because someone said it is, but because the earth and trees and stones just are.