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Hedgehog Moss Farm

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This is a snapshot view of original blog at hedgehog-moss.tumblr.com

Toplist Points 38081 == Toplist Rank [5.000 (great)]

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I’ve been scouting the forest for a while to find suitable partially-rotted logs to try hügelkultur, having finally cleared all...
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11 hours ago

I’ve been scouting the forest for a while to find suitable partially-rotted logs to try hügelkultur, having finally cleared all...

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I’ve been scouting the forest for a while to find suitable partially-rotted logs to try hügelkultur, having finally cleared all...
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12 hours ago

I’ve been scouting the forest for a while to find suitable partially-rotted logs to try hügelkultur, having finally cleared all...

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Elise Towle Snow

1 day ago

Elise Towle Snow

This last ask kind of abruptly reminded me of my original motivation for learning to ride horses. It was initially part of a complicated ruse to get a girl to like me when I was in primary school.

I was 8 years-old and my only goal in life was to befriend a girl in my school named Domitille, who had the most beautiful hair in the world. I wrote a detailed description of her hair in my diary because it fascinated me so much, and I compared it to the “autumn-coloured cat” in His Dark Materials. I acutely remember my mortifying first attempt at talking to her—I asked her if her name came from the Latin domus, the house, and she stared at me with bafflement. I had carefully prepared this first conversation in my head beforehand, and was crushed by Domi’s failure to say the lines I had assigned to her, so I resorted to discreet sleuthing to learn more useful details about her (than the etymology of her name.) And when I learnt that she was a horse girl and attended the same horse riding summer camp every summer, I begged my mums to let me attend it too. They were very surprised as I had never displayed any interest in horses or in making friends before.

I spent the months before summer camp trying to prepare the ground for this friendship with Domi. She lived near the bakery so I demanded to be put in charge of all bread-buying in my household, so I could walk in the same general direction as her after school without it being suspicious. I also spent a lot of time alone in the library reading a truly absurd amount of books about horses (including a very boring one about equine anatomy). When I arrived at summer camp I knew that a horse’s cheekbone was called the zygomatic arch and my friendship with Domi was a fragile affair made up of halfhearted after-school conversations that still needed the pretext of convenient baguette-buying. Plus I had spent so much time picturing us becoming best friends over the course of a month spent riding horses together in the mountains that I had completely neglected to factor in the existence of other people, and felt disconcerted and indignant to find the camp swarming with 80 loud children.

Nothing was as I had imagined it—for one, there were two dorms and kids were divided around the arbitrary age of 9 years-old, with kids older than 9 in the big kids’ dorm. I had been made to skip a year so I was a year younger than Domi, and to my horror we were separated and I was directed towards the babies’ dorm. I tried to argue with a camp counsellor that I was in the same school year as the 9-year-olds and it was absurd to separate me from them when I had already been deemed worthy of sharing their classroom but she didn’t care, and I gave up when I realised, heartbroken, that Domi was suddenly extremely uncommitted to having me in her dorm, having found some friends she’d met the previous summer.

I hated everything about this first summer camp, especially the stupid pony I was stuck with; I was very small for my age and felt contempt for the tiny, hairy Shetland I was riding, and envied the older kids who rode tall, elegant Dartmoor ponies. I don’t even remember my pony’s name but I remember that Domi’s pony was called Internet and she had nicknamed him Web, a detail I archived in my diary with the comment “That’s so clever”. At the end of the first week I wrote to my mums begging them to let me come home, and they sent me a package full of books the way you would shove a pacifier in a crying baby’s mouth. I was pacified and bid my time until the end of the month, hardly ever seeing Domi who was riding on more difficult trails with the more experienced riders, was allowed to watch films at night and go to sleep later as she was a ‘big kid’, etc. 

In the event we had two very different summer camp experiences, yet my friend-making strategy was amazingly successful, to my surprise: in September I discovered that Domi clearly enjoyed having someone at school who now knew her favourite place, and she would often reminisce with me, in front of the others—“Remember when we had to run back to the stables with the ponies in the huge rainstorm?”, or in the middle of a school lunch, “These quenelles are disgusting, remember how good they were at camp?” It made me feel very Special every time, especially when Domi’s other friends looked so left out and annoyed. None of them could ride horses; they had made bad choices like ballet classes. I continued reading very boring horse books for the sole purpose of having arcane, jargon-heavy conversations with Domi in front of these girls. The horse riding camp was Our Thing and I asked to return the next summer (to my parents’ extreme perplexity), and eventually did learn to like horses for their own sake, independently from the helpful role they played in my cunning maneuvers. Domi and I were very close friends for two years and when I moved to attend a private middle school we swore that we would write to each other every single week and then never talked again.

1 day ago

This last ask kind of abruptly reminded me of my original motivation for learning to ride horses. It was initially part of a...

1 day ago

How did you learn to ride? I thought you were from Paris?

1 day ago

Why a donkey and llamas, but no horse?😀

1 day ago

When the doctor suggested surgery and a brace for all my youngest years, my parents scrambled to take me to massage therapy,...

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Pampe is coming. What does she want? The answer is always “to cuddle Pan”.

1 day ago

Pampe is coming. What does she want? The answer is always “to cuddle Pan”.

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It smells so nice around my house these days. Sitting in the grass for a while to enjoy a cup of coffee and the scent of flowers...
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2 days ago

It smells so nice around my house these days. Sitting in the grass for a while to enjoy a cup of coffee and the scent of flowers...

2 days ago

Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art, be it acting, writing, painting, or living itself, which is the greatest art of all.

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“Play For The Ocean” by Vladimir Kush

2 days ago

“Play For The Ocean” by Vladimir Kush

I was reading last night an odd little book by Paul Scheerbart, a German writer and self-described visionary inventor, who from 1907 to 1910 tried to build a perpetual motion machine in his laundry room. As he also wrote fantasy novels I initially assumed this was fiction, but I read up about him and it appears that he did spend three years trying to build it in earnest. His booklet Das Perpetuum Mobile: Die Geschichte einer Erfindung is a journal of his invention process and his grandiose expectations of his machine:

a thousand utopian novels could be written” about the new society that will emerge thanks to his machinehis “perpeh" machine will create unlimited free energy and therefore enable humans to cover the entire planet in beautiful electric lights, making our alien neighbours green with envy (“What will other planet-dwellers say upon seeing the Earth so fabulously lit-up! We will be the talk of the entire Solar system”) as well as the fish (“the oceans can be illuminated in such a way that the fish will live in perpetual amazement”)not to forget the fantastically megalomaniacal sentence: “Ultimately we won’t need the Sun anymore.”he fully expects to receive an income of fourteen hundred million a year (he calculated that individual countries would be willing to pay 30 million each for the use of his invention)it will improve transportation by finally letting us build cars with gigantic wheels (…?? “for land transportation, giant wheels will in my opinion roll much faster to their destination than the little wheels we commonly use.”)in fact it will revolutionise transportation to such a degree that all country borders will dissolve, as well as national languages “but”, he writes, reasonably enough, “the German language must be preserved, or else my books will become wholly unintelligible, and that would put me in a mild frenzy”he envisions one of his machines combined with a kite as the ideal new method of capital punishment: simply fasten the criminal to a perpetual motion machine powered-kite and let him ascend into the clouds, never to return.but he also worries a lot about all the ways his invention might be used for evil, which makes him feel better about the repeated failure of his endeavour (“If after the invention of the Perpeh, things become stupider than before… then I really ought to be careful and not see it to the end. So I’m actually quite happy that the device isn’t really working today. And tomorrow it will not work either—I would bet. This comforts me a bit.”)his friend Erich Mühsam later recalled that Scheerbart concluded his three years of research by telling him: “The perpetual motion machine is done. It doesn’t move.”

It’s a trainwreck of a diary but an oddly delightful read. One of his translators called it a “two-and-a-half-year-long tantrum of the imagination.”

2 days ago

I was reading last night an odd little book by Paul Scheerbart, a German writer and self-described visionary inventor, who from...

this might come across as anti capitalist but,,,,,, i want to enjoy life

3 days ago

this might come across as anti capitalist but,,,,,, i want to enjoy life

3 days ago

Here’s a line of Reverend Ames in Gilead: “This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it.” […]...

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urgetocreate:  Theodore Earle Butler, Lili reading at the Butler house in Giverny, 1908

3 days ago

urgetocreate: Theodore Earle Butler, Lili reading at the Butler house in Giverny, 1908

4 days ago

Please tell us more about aliens and dollhouses...!! What would they think about it? I always love to imagine an external pov on...

4 days ago

Could you tell us what is "l'X" ?

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“The Mouse Mansion of Sam & Julia” (“Het Muizenhous Sam & Julia”), a 100 room doll house by Karina Schaapman Amsterdam, Noord...
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4 days ago

“The Mouse Mansion of Sam & Julia” (“Het Muizenhous Sam & Julia”), a 100 room doll house by Karina Schaapman Amsterdam, Noord...

4 days ago

Ton tag "#I never thought I would ever say this but... I totally miss my cpge times" m'a fait rire parce que je l'ai lu à peine...

imagine a rat using an airpod as a cane . imagine that

4 days ago

imagine a rat using an airpod as a cane . imagine that

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Marie Muravski (@marie_muravski)

4 days ago

Marie Muravski (@marie_muravski)

A strange thing happened in my dream last night. A bunch of street urchins in 19th-century Paris were trying to break into a bookshop at night—this was the main event of the dream and I hardly paid any attention to it because my attention was focused on a large red book in the shop’s window (with the title “INVOLUNTARY JOURNEY” in gold letters) which kept flickering in and out of existence like a malfunctioning neon light. In the background the street urchins shattered the window and looted the bookshop, and the next morning the owner arrived, a very Scrooge-like figure, and didn’t pay the slightest attention to his ransacked shop—instead he went straight to the large red book, grabbed it through the broken glass, then looked “into the camera” and said loudly “This book was published in 1881.” The book then stopped glitching and became more solid, now that my brain was reassured that it wasn’t an anachronism to have it here in 19th century Paris.

I looked it up after I woke up, and found, on a rare book website, a book called José’s Secret: The Involuntary Journey, with a red cover & gold title, by Lucien Biart, an obscure French writer I had never heard of. The seller specifies that this collection didn’t write the publication date on their first editions, but the last page of the book has a list of ‘new titles to be released in 1882′ so he assumes this one is from 1881. I don’t know how this information ended up in my brain last night because I am positive I have never seen this book in my life, let alone bothered to check the last page to investigate when it was published. My only explanation is that a persnickety Night Librarian makes the rounds of people’s dreams every night to check that the book props fit the historical context. Maybe on other occasions I am someone else’s Night Librarian.

4 days ago

A strange thing happened in my dream last night. A bunch of street urchins in 19th-century Paris were trying to break into a...

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Cyclope Odilon Redon 1914

5 days ago

Cyclope Odilon Redon 1914

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River Water-crowfoot (Ranunculus fluitans) in River Vramsån Photo Patrik Olofsson

5 days ago

River Water-crowfoot (Ranunculus fluitans) in River Vramsån Photo Patrik Olofsson

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Arthur Wasse “Through the window” Oil on Canvas

6 days ago

Arthur Wasse “Through the window” Oil on Canvas

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Skeleton Yoga by Huebucket

6 days ago

Skeleton Yoga by Huebucket

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Months ago I started a collection of “headlines that make me realise we really do live in the version of the 2000s predicted by...
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6 days ago

Months ago I started a collection of “headlines that make me realise we really do live in the version of the 2000s predicted by...

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The ideal of calm is in a seated cat. (Jules Renard)

6 days ago

The ideal of calm is in a seated cat. (Jules Renard)

7 days ago

I still worry and want an endless stream of more, but some days I can see the point in growing something, even if it’s just to...

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sun god messenger 

7 days ago

sun god messenger 

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My little cousins made paper fish and were grumpy that they didn’t get to tape them to their teachers’ backs at school as per...
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7 days ago

My little cousins made paper fish and were grumpy that they didn’t get to tape them to their teachers’ backs at school as per...

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I loved to read poetry aloud to feel the resonance of the words. But my husband and children didn’t want to know a thing about...

7 days ago

I loved to read poetry aloud to feel the resonance of the words. But my husband and children didn’t want to know a thing about...

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Virginia Woolf, The Years

7 days ago

Virginia Woolf, The Years

« Coronavirus is a planetary event of a magnitude we have trouble wrapping our minds around, not only because of its global scale, or the speed at which it unfolded, but also because the institutions whose power we used to take for granted have been brought to their knees in a matter of weeks. 

The mediaeval universe of devastating plagues has burst into our clean, modern world of nuclear power, laser surgery and virtual technology. Even in wartime, movie theatres and underground bars continued to exist; yet we are now seeing Europe’s most bustling capitals become sinister ghost towns, with locals forced to hole up in their homes. As Albert Camus wrote in The Plague, “All these changes were, in a way, so extraordinary, and took place so rapidly, that it wasn’t easy to envision them as normal and lasting.

From air travel to museums, the beating heart of our civilisation suddenly had to stop. […] Overnight, the world has become unheimlich, eerily strange, devoid of familiarity. All comforting actions—holding hands, kissing, hugging, getting together for a meal—have become a source of danger and anxiety. In a matter of days, new concepts have mushroomed to make sense of a new reality: we all became experts in the various existing masks and their filtering efficiency (N95, FFP2, FFP3, etc.); we now know how much hydroalcoholic lotion is necessary to clean our hands properly; we know the difference between “suppression” and “mitigation”, and of course we have become familiar with the strange rules and rituals of social distancing. In a few days, a new normal was introduced, with new objects, new concepts, and new rules. […]

The modern social contract is implicitly based on governments’ capacity to ensure the health and safety of their citizens. The current crisis sheds light on two facts: one, that this contract, in many parts of the world, has been gradually broken by governments who switched ambitions by becoming economic actors entirely focused on reducing labour costs, deregulating the financial sector, and meeting the needs of big corporations. The result has been a tremendous erosion of public service. The second fact, now obvious to us all, is that only the state can manage and help us survive so great a crisis. […] The neoliberal imposture has been exposed, and must be loudly denounced.

We are facing an unprecedented dilemma: sacrifice the lives of many elderly and vulnerable persons, or sacrifice the livelihood of younger cohorts. It is rather ironic that the world of finance, so arrogant and often impenetrable, collapsed immediately. It proved that all financial transactions rely on one resource that we all used to take for granted: the health of citizens. Stock markets feed on confidence as a currency to build the future, and we are discovering that a large part of our confidence relied on the assumption of collective health. Modern states have developed means to ensure the health of their citizens: they have built hospitals, trained doctors, funded medical research and created welfare systems. This infrastructure of health was the invisible basis of our confidence in the future, which in turn made financial investments and speculation possible. […]

In the past few decades, politicians, financial markets, and corporations have banded together to promote policies that drastically reduced all public budgets, from education to health care, thus strangely ignoring how much the same corporations benefit, without spending a penny, from these public services. All these resources are allocated by governments and are the sine qua non conditions for any economic activity to take place. Yet, in France, 100,000 hospital beds were eliminated in the past twenty years. In June 2019, ICU doctors and nurses protested against budget cuts that were pushing the French welfare system—formerly, a global reference—to the brink of collapse. […]

Capitalism as we knew it must change. This pandemic will cause immeasurable economic damages, mass unemployment, negative growth—and it will affect the entire world […]. Banks, corporations, and financial firms will need to help the world’s governments carry the load […]. They will need to help shoulder the burden of economic reconstruction even if they stand to make little profit from it. Capitalists have taken for granted the resources provided by the state—education, health, infrastructures—without realising that draining each of these resources would eventually deprive them of the kind of society that makes economy possible. This needs to stop. Economy needs society to exist. This society must be built collectively, thanks to the contribution of the private sector to the public good. Only the state can manage so great a crisis, but it will not be strong enough, on its own, to get us through it: corporations must contribute to the preservation of the public services from which they profited for so long, […] if they want the economy to remain a conceivable framework for human activities. »

— Sociologist Eva Illouz, translated from Le Nouvel Observateur, March 23rd 2020

9 days ago

« Coronavirus is a planetary event of a magnitude we have trouble wrapping our minds around, not only because of its global...

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A house by koyamori

9 days ago

A house by koyamori

9 days ago

Hello! I live in a big old house with my friends, and when we are laying together before bed I read them your posts, like bed...

9 days ago

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

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Pandolf had no success convincing Pampe to play with him today. Her ears were stalagmites and she was crabby. He kept trying to...

9 days ago

Pandolf had no success convincing Pampe to play with him today. Her ears were stalagmites and she was crabby. He kept trying to...

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Baby Swan by Olivier Mattelart

10 days ago

Baby Swan by Olivier Mattelart

10 days ago

Could you recommend books about loneliness? Or about all kinds of interpersonal relationships? :)