A morning of mists

Chilly in Edinburgh this morning, cold enough in the early morning and after sunset to see your breath; I can taste the winter on the air. Cold, but beautiful - the mist which often falls in Edinburgh, especially in autumn, lay over the city. By the time I was on Princes Street the sun was just barely above Castle Ridge; the Castle and buildings of the Old Town were faint through the mist, like fading dreams evaporating in the light of morning, or perhaps the reverse, perhaps the daytime city was dreaming itself into being as I watched. The copper-red sun struggled above Ridge, fuzzy and indistinct through the mist, making it glow like a living thing as it curled around old buildings, battlements and the peaks of Arthur's Seat. An hour later it was a clear, blue sky, crisp, sharp, as if the mist had never been, the world solid and defined, but I saw it change from dreamstate to waking world and know that both are, in their own ways, real and imaginary at the same time.

On the way home tonight the sun had just set, staining the sky red in the west; a darkening sky in the east and a huge, full moon rising in the sky even by 6 o'clock. The mist was rising once more, following the line of the setting sun, like a great, soft blanket being pulled over the city from east to west. The city changes again, slips herself into another form, another reality, another dream. All cities are both real and dream places, their ever-changing faces as much how we see them as any subjective view, presenting perspectives to those who will look and appreciate her special gifts.

Happy solstice!

The longest day of the year today, with the old druids out around Stonehenge - not sure they are druids really, since the druids didn't leave written records so I'm not certain they have much in the way of authentic information to base their 'traditions' on, but hey, they enjoy it and they don't cause anyone any harm so why not. Anyone wishing to greet the rising sun in Edinburgh this morning would have been a little disappointed though, not to mention soggy, since a fine mist lay over the whole city - one of those mists that wrapped itself around the Castle until it almost vanished; look down from the bridge and you could see tendrils of it curling around the low-lying streets, like something from a 19th century Gothic novel. Somehow I always feel I should have a cloak and top hat on when the city is like this.