Bye. Bye, Blackbird.

On the fourth day of Christmas . . .

I was not fishing the Tweed.

My “expert” guide called with news of a rising river and sentiments such as “well we could try” and “I don’t know I haven’t been in weeks.”  I let it go - unimpressed by his EXPERTise.  So after that, and a shakedown at the hotel restaurant that is also known as “a single croissant and french pressed coffee,” I could have been in a snit.  But I wasn’t.  I was in EDINBURGH!  Nobody was going to ruin that for me.

I was in Edinburgh on the fourth day of Christmas, the day of Colly Birds.

Colly, in english dialect, means coal dust. Fitting in that the smoke and soot of the past give Eddie his artist’s-chalk-colored charm.

Around every daylight corner, it’s as if a somewhat tormented soul has etched the city by hand with broad strokes of bottle green and marine blue onto sandstone and slate colored paper, adding a surrealistic depth with black from his thumbs.

It has been on some of life's most rocky paths, that I've discovered its sweetest perspectives.

I left the hotel, eager to leap into his masterpiece!

By day, I made the most of every moment. I visited the Castle, the Grassmarket, and the Mile. I time-traveled through Armstrong’s, skipped the entree at David Bann, climbed Arthur’s seat, celebrated with a nip & traveler at WM Cadenhead, and had a darling literary chat at Old Town Bookshop.

 I took the long way home.  I took a bubble bath.  And then I went back out for more!

If, by day, Eddie is colored with chalk . . . then by night, he is illustrated with light.  Light that appears to be more stars, fallen from the sky, than anything attached to a garish cord. Buildings seem to be held up by beams of starlight, rising from cracks in the ground. And the streets & trees sparkle with it's dust.

By night, I took my time, savoring the moments.  I crossed the bridge and made my way up through the Market Street Fair.  I stopped to hold my heart from leaping out of my chest as I swooned over the Bank of Scotland.  And I settled in at The Bee Hive for a Steak & Ale Pie and a pint, where I was treated to a love scene that played out like a wonderful movie in front of me - as if there were a projector bathing the wall with their amorous glow.  I walked home, reluctant, and had that nightcap with Ry & Liz: a rhubarb, lemon & ginger concoction.

Blackbirds . . . "A commitment to higher knowing (flight) and an acceptance of the void (infinite vastness that eludes the ego and rational mind)" one source explains.  And "represents those who are tempted by carnal pleasures" says another.  Or "brings the lessons learned in meditation" according to a third source.  To me, they put the lyric "pack up all my care and woe" on repeat.

"Sugar's sweet.  So is he."

"Tomorrow" the daylight would bring the melancholy of farewell.  The most romantic of them all - a train station farewell!  One where I would leave behind the part of my heart and soul that was meant to be there all along.

"Bye. Bye, Blackbird."


All aboard. Next stop? London!