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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  • Pictures for Irrigation dyke

    wordpress annoyed me so much that I had to print the pictures apart

  • Drainage Dyke

        Suthern Ontario is superb farming country.  I am staying a little North of the farm belt just on the Canadian Shield.  There are still large swaths of farmland too.  I got something of an object lesson in how land is claimed from nature.  It is all very well for me to rapturize about…

  • Treasure at the Side of the Road

        Walking today through a shady trail and then along  the side of a country road to return home I was struck by the variety and beauty of what was growing in the strip between the asphalt and the ditch.  Cornflowers blue and white daisies, a tiny sort of snapdragon of acid yellow and…

  • A Church

      Going to church is a strange thing when you consider it. What makes it holy, special, the sort of place that brings me to the spirit world?  This morning I gave a tour at the Museum of the Tiffany windows in the concert hall.  That used to be a church but it was ”…

  • At the Heart of Things

      That searching for the heart of things. What does it mean, after all and where does it spring from? And what is it, exactly, or even vaguely? Too perplexing or taxing to examine?  Too frightening? Well, there’s always shopping or cleaning the house. Important things to tick tick the clock – like a career…

  • Garden Angels

      Guardian angels?  This is Blackie, whom I have known from a kitten.  I know him by his crooked tail, stumpy and blunt.  He is a feral cat who has lived down our jungly lane for about four years.  I used to have quite a following among the strays around here.  Ah, I put out…

  • Imperfection and Persistence

      With the generosity of nature, my pink rose bush is putting forth new buds every day.  It doesn’t hold back, doesn’t judge if the weather is too hot or too cold. Doesn’t sulk if petals fall in drifts as soon as a sweet smelling bloom has matured.  This flower caught my eye because a…

  • Mortality

      which is, I have been recently reminded, for me and not just all those other people.  I want to be like the bronze statue of the dancer I bought when I was feeling a bit flush.  There she is with her leg perpetually raised in a dance, her hands ready to clash the cymbals,…

  • Sidewalk sale

      Today Mont Royal Boulevard  was closed to traffic and open to what felt like half the pedestrians  of Montreal.  I went with three friends to stroll along the long street that runs through an old, and now gentrified part of the city.  Hipsterfied, modified, moneyfied, chic’d up fixed up, pulled up, like most of…

  • June coming in

    Yesterday these irises were closed.  There was only a hint of blue petal at the tip of the tightly twisted cone sitting on the long sturdy stem.  It was a humid day, a waiting sort of day.  Late in the evening it began to rain and I think it rained all night.  At some time…