Saughton

Saughton. A name whispered on the wind, echoing the rustling of willow trees. Why willow trees? Because Saughton, my friends, gets its name from the Gaelic word for willow, ‘Saileach’. Imagine those willows, their branches dipping towards the flowing Water of Leith. They were more than just trees. They were a vital resource for the Highland Clans, the McNabs and McPhees who journeyed here for the spring cattle sales. Can you picture them, these rugged travelers setting up camp at ‘Willow tree farm’? The men haggled for cattle, while their wives and children wove the willow branches into baskets and creels, the air filled with their chatter and laughter. Saughton wasn’t always bustling with traders though. This place has deep roots, first mentioned in connection with Holyrood Abbey in 1128. Centuries passed, marked by the rhythmic flow of the Water of Leith and the changing seasons. Then, in the 19th century, a grand transformation took place. Saughton Hall, a modest country residence was leased and rebuilt into Saughton Hall Asylum. This wasn’t just any asylum. It catered to “patients of the higher ranks” and became known for its progressive approach to mental health care. Envision sprawling grounds, designed to soothe troubled minds. Imagine the elegant rooms, filled with the soft murmur of voices and the scent of roses from the beautiful gardens. But time, like a river, keeps flowing. The asylum closed. In 1952, the grand old building succumbed to the flames, its stones repurposed for Edinburgh’s roads. And so, Saughton carries on, a tapestry woven from whispers of willows, echoes of cattle sales, and the poignant stories of Saughton Hall Asylum.