I guess the few people who occasional drop by understand enough German that a translation is not needed. The little story I found in another forum is supposed to be based on Christian beliefs and customs, but I can't see anything in it that doesn't apply to Pagan concepts as well. So this is for my friends and yes, as always it means more to me than a bit of German Gemutlichkeit.


Vier Kerzen brannten am Adventskranz. Es war ganz still. So still, dass
man hören konnte, wie die Kerzen zu reden begannen.

Die erste Kerze seufzte und sagte: "Ich heiße Frieden. Mein Licht
leuchtet, aber die Menschen halten keinen Frieden. Sie wollen mich nicht." Ihr
Licht wurde immer kleiner und erlosch schließlich.

Die zweite Kerze flackerte und sagte: "Ich heiße Glauben. Aber ich bin
überflüssig. Die Menschen wollen von Gott nichts wissen. Es hat keinen Sinn
mehr, dass ich brenne". Ein Luftzug wehte durch den Raum und die zweite Kerze
war aus.

Leise und traurig meldete sich die dritte Kerze zu Wort: "Ich heiße Liebe.
Ich habe keine Kraft mehr zu brennen. Die Menschen stellen mich zur Seite.
Sie sehen nur sich selbst und nicht die anderen, die sie lieb haben
sollen." Und mit einem letzten Aufflackern war auch dieses Licht ausgelöscht.

Da kam ein Kind in das Zimmer. Es schaute die Kerzen an und sagte: "Aber
aber ihr sollt doch brennen und nicht aus sein!" Fast fing es zu weinen an.

Da meldete sich die vierte Kerze zu Wort. Sie sagte: "Hab keine Angst!
Solange ich brenne, können wir auch die anderen Kerzen wieder anzünden. Ich
heiße Hoffnung."

Mit einem Streichholz nahm das Kind Licht von dieser und zündete die
anderen Kerzen wieder an.Vier Kerzen brannten am Adventskranz. Es war ganz still. So still, dass
man hören konnte, wie die Kerzen zu reden begannen.

Die erste Kerze seufzte und sagte: "Ich heiße Frieden. Mein Licht
leuchtet, aber die Menschen halten keinen Frieden. Sie wollen mich nicht." Ihr
Licht wurde immer kleiner und erlosch schließlich.

Die zweite Kerze flackerte und sagte: "Ich heiße Glauben. Aber ich bin
überflüssig. Die Menschen wollen von Gott nichts wissen. Es hat keinen Sinn
mehr, dass ich brenne". Ein Luftzug wehte durch den Raum und die zweite Kerze
war aus.

Leise und traurig meldete sich die dritte Kerze zu Wort: "Ich heiße Liebe.
Ich habe keine Kraft mehr zu brennen. Die Menschen stellen mich zur Seite.
Sie sehen nur sich selbst und nicht die anderen, die sie lieb haben
sollen." Und mit einem letzten Aufflackern war auch dieses Licht ausgelöscht.

Da kam ein Kind in das Zimmer. Es schaute die Kerzen an und sagte: "Aber
aber ihr sollt doch brennen und nicht aus sein!" Fast fing es zu weinen an.

Da meldete sich die vierte Kerze zu Wort. Sie sagte: "Hab keine Angst!
Solange ich brenne, können wir auch die anderen Kerzen wieder anzünden. Ich
heiße Hoffnung."

Mit einem Streichholz nahm das Kind Licht von dieser und zündete die
anderen Kerzen wieder an.

I've never thought I'd post something like that here, but this project is really important to me.
Announcing WhySnape forum's 50th Birthday Project  - fan fiction/role-playing - crossover challenge
We asking the common people, the audience at the arena to give their point of view and as it is the tradition of our forum we demand the participants to stay true to their real selves.
Curious or just want to have a look at those delusional nutters? Visit us at http://www.hostingphpbb.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=591&mforum=snape for the details and ask questions or comment. Preferably you join us in our ambitious endeavour.

My friend valkyriekat has made two beautiful promotional banners





Diversity of opinions is the key to the success of our project, so this goes to all of you, Muggles, Squibs, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors who can obey some necessary rules.
Help us to give a voice to those who never spoke up in canon.

The British Greyhound racing industry is trying to get customers to spend "a night at the dogs". I prefer to spend my days with them. Last week we visited the Avalon Greyhound Sanctuary  near Flesk in County Galway. We've been looking for a greyhound to adopt and found two.
( Read more... )

After hours of fighting with Windoof (i.e. Win-stupid in German) I've finally managed to get the pc working again. So here are the promised pictures from our trip to Galway. Sightseeing my way, so don't expect too many historical sites, churches or stone circles.

holiday snapshots - dogfree

Last year a friend complained about having to wait so long  for the first spring flowers. I can't sent her real ones , but I hope she'll appreciate the virtual ones I can send.
So here's especially to mary_j_59  and everybody else who's waiting for a bit of colour in the garden.

Taken on Tuesday, March 10th on the premises of Avalon Greyhound Sanctuary, Woodford/Flesk, County Galway, Ireland.

I found this little story on a dog rescue site a while ago and very much liked it on the spot. So I want to share it.
www.naute.com/stories/mananddog.phtml It's very cute and safe for children.
This link is to the plain text only, no need to fear for shocking pictures. I avoid to link to the animal rescue sites; anyone who wants to know more can google for 'greyhound' or 'galgo'. It's easy enough.

There's a novel length fantasy story which remained unfinished, because somebody always occupies my study for more rational use than writing stupid fairy tales. It's either needed by my husband, becauuse his home office is still inhabitable or as an emergency guest room for my father-in-law. Anyway, you can't write a novel sitting on the floor of the living room, so it only exists in fragments. It's about the life of a fairy girl or woman Alsionna ni Cumal called Sionna Raven whose name I've borrowed as my nickname.
The following poems are related to the story, but not actually part of it. I wrote them get a grip of Sionna's relationship with her lover which is quite difficult. They are love poems by Sionna. The setting is a Celtic fantasy realm, so the imagery used is reality to Sionna not metaphorical.
She's in her late teens, madly in love and trying to convince a warlord, twenty years her senior and supposed enemy by a blood feud that she is perfectly sane and knows what she's doing. Read them with that in mind or they are really disturbing; they probably are anyway.

( Under a cut for unavoidable violence )

(Written in July 2008; the story is real, the hound is mine;
unavoidable associations that come with the name and the twitch of hand belong to J.K.Rowling.)

Has my choice of names been too provocative? Has it been asking for trouble? Yes, I expected strange looks, certain prejudice and disapproval, discussion maybe...... but directed to me. Never in my wildest dreams I've expected that the contempt and prejudice could run so deep to cause an instinctive withdrawal from the dog itself.

The following poem has been written during a hard time with my foster daughter. The photograph really exists and was taken on a sunny sunday afternoon. ( Further explanation and the poem under a cut for very serious content... )

My not-anymore-abandoned boy is a dog actually - who will be given a real chance to have a life worth living. His original name was Palomo 'male dove'. He looks like one, doesn't he?


Only that he is still far from being a white dove. I'm still trying to discover his original fur and skin colour under the layers of black and grey grime. You can't force a dog to take daily showers. His name is now Salazar Agravaine Severus. The initials are intentional of course and the middle name is definitely not Albus.

( Here are a few more pics.... )

The few known facts about him:
He is about 4 years old, a Galgo Espagnol, an old race of sighthounds from Spain, used mainly for hare-hunting or races. There's a lot of betting money involved, so a dog that doesn't perform as expected will be starved, punished, tortured, left to die as slowly as possible. My other dog Xerena, a 5-year-old Galga, has been tied to a pole for days and stoned by children, before she was left in the forest. As a result she was a so-called panic-dog, shivering and teeth-clattering, when approached by strangers.

That's her:

Anyone who has ever met one of those dogs who after all the horrors they've been through, still are capable of giving so much love and trust in exchange for the smallest sign of kindness from the two-legged monsters called human beings, will understand. The people from the rescue organizations all agree that they rarely saw an aggressive Galgo.

As planned I'm moving all my stupid poems here, one by one.
( Read more... )

It took me some time to start writing here, somehow it never has been the right time, the right ideas. Every journey begins with the first step and now I've decided to remove some of my old poems from the place I've stored them before, I can as well put them here.
The first one, pretentious, old fashioned in style and hardly understandable to someone who doesn't know me, but nobody is forced to read on. ( Read more... )