1904, Montreal, Canada
A little boy walks down the streets of Montreal with his father. The child’s name is Eric and he is 8 years old. His father, Thomas holds onto his hand tightly saying little to him along the way, but Eric will remember this walk for the rest of his life…
The post is online with accompanying images at https://elliekennard.ca/reality-check/
Summer nights in Lapland have a peaceful, still quality lent to them by the magic of the midnight sun. The light, so bright at such a late hour alters your sense of time and place. Is it 10 am? 10 pm? It’s hard to tell.
It was 1970 and I was staying with a Lapp family in a remote cottage near the village of Ivalo, in Finnish Lapland…
The post is online with accompanying images at https://elliekennard.ca/lemmings-midnight-sun/
I leaned on the fence feeling utterly defeated. The factory hum of bees in the Linden blossoms, the loudest interruption of the peaceful afternoon, went completely unnoticed. I wasn’t taking in any of the pastoral beauty spread out before me, as I watched my little flock of hens in the yard, lying in the shade of the walnut trees, or under the hydrangeas. Occasionally one would stagger to her feet, and peck half-heartedly at the grain on the ground, before sinking unsteadily back onto her breast.
View the full text and images on the original post: www.elliekennard.ca/chicken-pepie/
Now, how do you read the title of this story? Where are you to put the emphasis? Is it telling stories (in the sense of revealing) or telling stories? A little bit of both? Well I will let you, dear reader judge for yourself.
First of all, how did I start my story telling? And when? Listen to the story …
View the full text and images on the original post: Telling Stories
