Thus far Edinburgh's been a real treat. We're in an outstanding bed and breakfast (more about that later) and we've mapped out this cosy city, thus far having hit most of the major sites before our drive north starts on Thursday. You'll be happy to know I have explored a few of this city's bookstores and tonight, just across the street from the restaurant where we wanted to dine, I found a little gem. The selection of used books were fair, but right in the middle of the shelf was Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses. I bought it.
Published in 1915 this little hardback is full of some snappy poems. So over mint chocolate chip and one scoop of chocolate ice cream by the candlelight of our table I read a few to my beloved. And here's one for you, a little taste of a season we suffering through winter may be dreaming about.
BED IN SUMMER
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me on the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Here's a photo for you: