SEPTEMBER 17, 2010
Putting aside the collection of holiday greeting cards for a day or so, I tried to think of something a little more lighthearted to write about than the gradual darkening of our country's mindset as we were dragged into a devastating war. I chose hedgehogs, those prickly little creatures that have attracted a surprising amount of attention in recent years. I know of no one personally who has actually held a hedgehog; and rarely do I encounter a fellow collector with whom to share hedgehog lore. Yoohoo! Is there anybody out there?
Appearances of hedgehogs in literature have been many, and go far back in time ... long before Beatrix Potter. My preference has always been for the nameless hedgehogs that the Queen of Hearts put to use as croquet balls in Alice In Wonderland. Their ability to roll up into tight little spiny balls did them no service in that case –– repeatedly thwacked around as they were by knaves wielding flamingoes as mallets.
My collection began with a pair of folk art hedgehogs –– lady and gentleman –– created out of crackled canvas and dressed in Victorian style. I have several small porcelain hedgehogs, and some wonderful stone creatures that lurk in my garden. I believe my favorite replica of a hedgehog is a small pewter salt celler, with a tiny pewter spoon provided.
1 comment:
Sue CauhapeSeptember 23, 2010 3:18 PM
I'm out here, Judy, with a hedgehog story for you.
In 1976, I spent Autumn semester studying in Haifa, Israel and living on a kibbutz. Frankly, the school thing was merely an excuse to go with a group to the kibbutz to check out this intriguing socio-economic system. But I digress!
One evening as my kibbutz family and I were walking to the communal dining hall to eat supper, I spied this strange little animal wobbling across the lawn. I didn't know what it was and went up to it to take a closer look. It stopped, as we all gathered around it, and hunkered into the grass, not quite rolling up into a ball ... yet. There were these spiny things on its back and it had the cutest little face with a long, pointed snout. "Ma zeh -- what's that?" I said. My kibbutz father toed the wee beastie and said "That's a keepote."
Okay, what's that in English. He didn't know the word. I remained stymied until I talked later to my English roomie. "Oh," she laughed, "it sounds like a hedgehog!" You see, Judy, I didn't read Beatrix Potter until Valerie was born, so what do I know from hedgehogs?
Reply
In 1976, I spent Autumn semester studying in Haifa, Israel and living on a kibbutz. Frankly, the school thing was merely an excuse to go with a group to the kibbutz to check out this intriguing socio-economic system. But I digress!
One evening as my kibbutz family and I were walking to the communal dining hall to eat supper, I spied this strange little animal wobbling across the lawn. I didn't know what it was and went up to it to take a closer look. It stopped, as we all gathered around it, and hunkered into the grass, not quite rolling up into a ball ... yet. There were these spiny things on its back and it had the cutest little face with a long, pointed snout. "Ma zeh -- what's that?" I said. My kibbutz father toed the wee beastie and said "That's a keepote."
Okay, what's that in English. He didn't know the word. I remained stymied until I talked later to my English roomie. "Oh," she laughed, "it sounds like a hedgehog!" You see, Judy, I didn't read Beatrix Potter until Valerie was born, so what do I know from hedgehogs?
