isobelmtl

Writing under a Montreal sky

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about

Isobel Cunningham has published short fiction and poetry. Her book, Northern Compass is available on Amazon. She was born in Wales but Montreal is her adopted home. She speaks French, Modern Greek ( it’s a fun story) and a little Spanish…oh, English too, of course. She welcomes comments on her blog and looks forward to chatting with you over cyber-space.

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  • Lorca..on the way to the theatre

      Last night, just a few miles from the site of the real-life event that inspires the piece, we attended a performance of “Bodas de Sangre” (Blood Wedding) by Frederico Garcia Lorca. Thank goodness I had read the play in translation last year as, naturally, the performance was in Spanish. Lorca, famous for his collaboration…

  • Sunny Winter Sky

      This may not be your idea of a botanical garden but it is one of my favorites. It is a shot of a rather bare spot in the garden in Rodalquilar in the province of Andalucia in Southern Spain. This pomegranate tree had only a few fruits left and those had been ravaged by the…

  • Do I Have To?

      Spanish hunters buy these birds to use as live lures for wild partridge. We saw lots of them in clean, well-watered cages today. It seemed a kind of mean way to fool the birds. I know, we use duck decoys and moose calls to fool game into getting shot but this seems particularly gruesome to…

  • In the Subway

       In the University Metro Station an accordion player. The young feet hurrying back and forth in rapid rhythm. A few minutes before the hour a crescendo. The crush of crowds hurrying to class. No coin, no glance. With his strong left arm he opens the big instrument, black with mother of pearl, keys and…

  • Angels on the Tree

      Some of the angels like to come down and inhabit our strange doll-like images. They like hanging out on Christmas trees. These were glad to be gathered together in a group on this tree. They could chat when the house was quiet. “Next time I’d like to hang around a lighthouse like the one…

  • Fall in the woods, and in town

         City and country are different after all. The woods are full of caribou moss and brown oak leaves somehow soft and inviting. Although winter is surely coming there is a comfort in fall. The earth tones  the greys, creams, browns are kind to our eyes. The forest smells of earth and there is a…

  • Dying Away

            The year is dying off, failing, dropping to sleep. No one wants to swim in the waters of the bay any more. To take a canoe out has become an exercise in survival. It is no longer a summer jaunt where the major preoccupation was sweating too much as we navigated the little…

  • The Subtle Side of Fall

       We all glory in the brilliant fall colours but there is something subtle and beautiful in the fading away of vibrant summer. Like the profound and complex pleasures of age, they invite contemplation.    

  • Sweetening up the world

        Here are some friends of mine adding to the beauty and  sweetness of the world. Last weekend I went to see my friends Judith and Dick play Bluegrass music at the Verdun farmers’ markeDxt. It is held in summer beside the beautiful St. Lawrence River. The humidity was gone and it was relaxing…

  • A roof over my head!

      They did it! In one sunny day the roof that has sheltered me was ripped off and replaced. And no, they didn’t find a giant bee colony or termites or rotten wood. All went smoothly and well. Of course, it is traumatizing to hear the hammering, the crunch, the small bits of debris grumbling…