Rescued foal makes a friend. [vid]
THANK YOU JENNI HERD
Fairy rings occupy a prominent place in European folklore as the location of gateways into elfin kingdoms, or places where elves gather and dance. According to the folklore, a fairy ring appears when a fairy, pixie, or elf appears. It will disappear without trace in less than five days, but if an observer waits for the elf to return to the ring, he or she may be able to capture it. They are soooooo beautiful!
fairy rings are usually caused by decaying organic matter, generally a tree stump. many types of fungi have symbiotic relationships with tree roots and mushrooms are the fruiting bodies of such fungus. So if a huge old tree was cut down, you’ll often find fairy rings. they can last for years and years as the earth reabsorbs all the nutrients left behind by the beautiful tree.
sorry, didn’t mean to crush dreams - but i have a degree in horticulture and i was really excited when i first learned this.
maybe fairies and fungi are joining together to mourn the loss of the tree
NO BUT FINDING OUT ABOUT WHY FAIRY RINGS EXIST IS ALSO REALLY COOL.
From a writer’s perspective, it’s even more interesting to find out why they exist on a horticultural level, because it opens up a whole realm of fictional possibilities. Science doesn’t have to invalidate mythology or fiction, no more than mythology or fiction invalidates science.
For example, doesn’t that just essentially make this a tree grave? And if folklore has taught us anything, it’s that “fairies” and other spirits usually occupy trees, or have them as their life force. And that’s to say nothing of the folklore of trees being spirits in and of themselves, or kitsunes that live in tree hollows, or dryads, etc., etc.. So, if it’s disrespectful or feels like a slight to step on human graves, wouldn’t that logic transfer to stepping inside the Fairy Circle, AKA, the tree’s grave? It’s essentially giving more fuel to the story, not detracting from it, in my humble opinion!Science doesn’t have to invalidate mythology or fiction, no more than mythology or fiction invalidates science.
We get them in our garden during spring/summer, my mum says when I was little I used to lje and watch them for hours, reading.my book, sometimes aloud because “ssh mummy theyre listening”
sorry sir, we don’t have the facilities for a cat scan, but we can certainly get you a lab report
Cause the smart one always wins
#Viktor was obviously deeply in love with her #just remember the fact that he took her to prom #even knowing that he could’ve choose any other girl #remember how he forgot about everyone and danced with her all night #remember how he looked at her while saying ‘write to me, please’ #remember how, a few years later #on Fleur’s wedding #he danced with her one more time #probably being conscient that her heart already belonged to Ron #this is why I love Viktor Krum so much #he just enjoyed being with Hermione #and didn’t care about the future #mostly, because she wasn’t going to be a part of his. (via piertotum-locomottor)
Saying Hello to the Dragon.
That is a fucking forest spirit and nobody will make me believe otherwise.
Full image here
"I found him.
I found my soulmate.
Behold my idiot as he spazzes into the sunset”
you don’t know how much i laugh at this every time i see it
Ellen did her research. [x]
I just need to get something out.
The thing that always shatters me about the night of 31 October 1981 is not just the fact that Lily and James were murdered. It is imagining the maybe thirty seconds…maybe less than thirty seconds…between the moment Voldemort entered the cottage in Godric’s Hollow to the time he finally faces down Lily Potter in the bedroom.
I try to imagine myself in that position. You know that your husband, your soul mate, the stag to your doe, the boy with the specs and the messy hair that you can’t imagine your life without, has just told you to run for it with your child, and he’s going to stare down the most evil wizard of all time without his wand.
You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you know this is it. He is going to die. And then there’s no doubt, not even the tiniest hope, because you hear it happening. You probably see it happening through the cracks in the bedroom door, because “the green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods.”
And it’s over. A thousand thoughts and feelings slam right into your chest at that moment. A love story that should’ve seen the two of you grow old together is done, and you’re standing there thinking that you’ll never see him again, never feel him again, never hear him say he loves you, never get to say it back one last time, and not only that, but he’s lying there dead, probably not twenty feet from where you’re standing, and you can’t even say good-bye.
Then you start screaming. Because you don’t have your wand either. And you know what’s going to happen next.
But what happens next is kind of stunning to me, because I’ve got to be honest with you, if I had just heard my husband murdered in my own home, and was then given next to no time to process that fact before an evil bastard burst into the room hellbent on murdering me and my child, I think the best I could’ve managed would have been grabbing my baby and sobbing in a corner incoherently, praying that it would be quick. (I hope I’m never put in a situation where I need to test this theory.)
Lily doesn’t do that. From some untapped power, from freaking Merlin only knows where, she has just gone through this and not only manages to keep somewhat of a grip on herself, but look the bastard in the eye, and speak to him. Not just babble, or wail, but speak actual coherent thoughts.
The best I could’ve managed (if I could’ve managed anything at all), might have been to scream “James, oh god why James,” or something similar.
But Lily is all about Harry in this moment, because yes, he’s her son, but more importantly, he’s their son, hers and James’, and he is the only living piece of James left, and she is going to put every last ounce of incredible strength she has left into making sure he stays alive. And she somehow can feel all this love even when her heart must have been broken into a million tiny shards.
I think that is the power of her love, and that is the power of her sacrifice.
Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to go cry in a huddle under my comforter.