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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  • Just a marketing ploy

      Now that all the Christmas stuff has been banished from the grocery store ( you know, it’s a big store that sells clothes and dishes and toys as well as actual food) it’s time to move on.  There were a few straggling artificial branches of firs with cones or holly-looking things I couldn’t clearly…

  • Sparkle town

          The snow so soft, how many flakes tiny and insignificant yet muffling the city’s roar to a kindly purr. The flakes sparkling by some trick of chemistry, bonding together or sitting at an angle one from another and reflecting the light on the hood of the little car. But everywhere the glistening…

  • A little knowledge is a dangerous thing

          That’s what they used to say  to us in school.  What a useful phrase!  Awkward questions, objections, arguments against nonsense were quickly silenced with this phrase.  It had the added virtue of reinforcing our image as possessers of “little”knowledge.  Those who spoke to us in that way, naturally held much knowledge, and…

  • Cold bronze

                          It is is a little hard to stand witness over the follies of the city. Season after season they come to admire us or to joke at our grave gaze. Oh, we are revered and shown off by the guides. Outside the city museum.…

  • The Beautiful Street

          Although not not blessed with beauty yet the street is beautiful. humble, work-a-day, utilitarian. small homes with their steps to the upper floors, the tiny front enclosures standing straight to face The other side of the beautiful street. Although not blessed with beauty, there are trees planted by the city under the…

  • When it’s like this. . . . You eat this!

        So here we go – sidewalks like skating rinks, car doors frozen ( no worries, I am used to getting in by the hatchback which thank heavens has never frozen on me yet).  What did I see on my wandering in the city yesterday?  People slithering around in running shoes, people braving 60…

  • What is this water, really?

        Being thirsty, the good feel of water drunk from a bottle in gulps, thoughtlessly. A little later urinating, washing with scented soap and rinsing.  Damp hands rubbing a moist eye. The sharp taste of lemon, the flow of saliva A kiss, the taste of that mouth, the misty breath mingled with mine. The…

  • Water blog

        How odd that I decided to write about water as a theme this month and, here we are, freezing rain!  I went out to break into my dear little red car.  It was encased in ice.  Surprisingly the doors opened.  In my day I have clambered in by the hatch back.  There was…

  • Neighbourhood graffiti

        Ah, here people will start to turn up their noses.  This little piece is 2 blocs from  my home.  I always feel happy and safe when I see that orange glow and the little spaceship and the child? Hero? below.  Some of the work which is as long as the house it is painted…

  • An old fashioned look

          My father used that phrase to describe the look of a person who didn’t quite believe what he was being told. It struck me that this elk as a rather old fashioned look. Today I went with two friends to Park Omega, a sort of wildlife park in Gatineau. One pays to…