Vegetarian Haggis and Hawthornden [by Merle Bachman]

The flowers are fulsome now; the air, rinsed and rinsed again by rain, which has bucked across the sky all day.  I like a cold, wet spring.  That's probably one reason why I loved my time at Hawthornden, in Scotland, in a lushly chill and rainy season.  (The other reason is the shortbread--but I digress). 

Once, I woke in the black of my bedroom, fumbling for the bedside lamp--because I thought I'd felt someone's breath on my cheek.  Most nights, after the other writing fellows had also tucked themselves away into their pocket-sized chambers, I simply read till I got too tired to keep my eyes open, and let the calls of owls carry me into a different century of sleep.

,,,The owlet's cry
Came loud--and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings...

Since I got back, I've worked very little on the writing project that took me to that place.  (You know:  teaching trumps everything... )  But the place itself burbles up, wells up at moments when the smell or taste seems right.

Things you should know about Hawthornden ("International Retreat for Writers"):

--It really is a castle.  (At least, from the outside.)

--There are Pictish caves under the castle, and you may visit them.

--William Drummond, a handsome man (judging from his portrait on the staircase landing), composed copious volumes of verse during his tenure as Hawthornden's owner and keeper.  (Drummond died in 1649).

Of all his work, I have but two lines to share with you:

The world is full of horrors, falsehoods, slights:
Wood's silent shades have only true delights.

--The surrounding forested grounds seem filled with tree-spirits.

--The river Esk rushes beneath the lip of land on which the castle rests; sometimes you can hear it from the third floor, where the writers' studio-bedrooms are.

--Haggis is served at least twice (but a vegetarian version is available).

--Hawthornden is not far from Edinburgh, where bagpipers placate tourists on the street (but still sound otherworldly) and where you can take a City of the Dead tour that will tell you all about the city's rich history of grave-robbing, plague deaths, and other befitting grotesqueries.

Last but not least:  You will be both cared-for and left alone to write. 

So:  you need to know that the deadline for application for sessions in 2010 is June 30th. 

There is no email (why should there be?).  For an application, you will need to write to The Administrator, at International Retreat for Writers, Hawthornden Castle, Lasswade, Midlothian, EH18 1EG, Scotland.  (Or you could call:  0131 440 2180).

Lasswade.  Midlothian.  The names themselves are poetry.... 

--And back to Coleridge, from "Frost at Midnight":

'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness.  Sea, and hill, and wood,
This populous village!  Sea, and hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams!

*
Thanks so much to those who commented on my post from last night.  I'm really glad to make Aleda Shirley's work more known.  --And I have a few more poets up my sleeve (as it were), to introduce to you (or simply share admiration with you, for their work--). 

Anon.  --Meanwhile, dream with me of Hawthornden....

Comments

[DL]

Very nice post. I especially liked the way Coleridge's beautiful lines visited you (and now us your readers). How long did you spend at Hawthornden? What does vegetarian haggis taste like?

[Laura Orem]

I agree - what an evocative post. (And vegetarian haggis has to taste better than traditional haggis. It has to.)

[E. Podet]

Umm...what IS vegetarian haggis?