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最も速く移動する島、その2:種の進化

最も速く移動する島、その2:種の進化

による ハビエル・ジャニョーニ|2021年9月24日|未分類

By Rick Schleicher 前回の話の続きです。ガラパゴスゾウガメはなぜ200年も長生きするのでしょうか?その理由は、地質学とプレートテクトニクスに関係していると述べた。ガラパゴスゾウガメは、14種類いる(いた)。
最も早く移動する島

最も早く移動する島

による ハビエル・ジャニョーニ|2021年9月2日|カテゴリー1

https://cometogalapagos.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/VIDEO-2021-01-12-22-05-41.mp4 By Rick Schleicher Join the most unique creatures in the world for a thrill ride on the fastest moving islands on the planet! Four inches a year! That’s hell bent for leather, speed...
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    AIREスピーカー

    AIREは、音と自然をつなぐスピーカーです。リラックスしているとき、仕事をしているとき、暖かい会話をしているとき、AIREはそれぞれの瞬間に必要なオーガニックな音と雰囲気をもたらします。このエコフレンドリーなスピーカーは、ポータブルでワイヤレスでありながら、豊かな低音の深みと、音のスペクトルに明瞭さを与える高音の響きを実現しています。

    AIREの特徴は何ですか?

    エコロジカルスピーカー「AIRE」の制作は、環境回復のための共同プロジェクトです。AIREが作られている土地は、エクアドルのエスメラルダス州リオベルデ・カントンにある15ヘクタールの広さです。この土地は、人口の60%がアフロ・エクアドル人である小さな漁村、パウフィから1キロのところにあります。

    このプロジェクトには、谷に囲まれた原生林への敬意を込めた在来種の木材(マホガニー、シダー、モラル、グァチャペリなど)の回復と、チークやローレルなどの商業種の生産が含まれています。2000年の開始以来、復興プロジェクトでは様々な種類の木を約10,000本植えました。

    環境にやさしいAIREのスピーカーには、木材だけが使われています。この木材は商業的な用途ではなく、木を伐採したものではなく、廃棄物や廃材、農場で枯れた木などを使用しています。クリエイティブなプロセスを経て、この上質な木材に新たな命を与え、回収してAIREのスピーカーを作っています。

    それぞれのスピーカーは、異なる種類の木から作られた一点もので、大量生産ではなく、各パーツに個性があります。熟練した大工が、木の性質を尊重しながら一つ一つのパーツを彫っていきます。AIREのスピーカーは、エクアドルの地元アーティストが手描きで描いたアート作品の一部です。

    AIREは、グローバルな視点でローカルに作られており、オーガニックでシンプルなものと新しいモバイルデバイスを組み合わせ、自然と人の架け橋となり、持続可能な共存の精神で敬意をもって作られています。

    AIREの特徴は何ですか?

    エコロジカルスピーカー「AIRE」の制作は、環境回復のための共同プロジェクトです。AIREが作られている土地は、エクアドルのエスメラルダス州リオベルデ・カントンにある15ヘクタールの広さです。この土地は、人口の60%がアフロ・エクアドル人である小さな漁村、パウフィから1キロのところにあります。

    このプロジェクトには、谷に囲まれた原生林への敬意を込めた在来種の木材(マホガニー、シダー、モラル、グァチャペリなど)の回復と、チークやローレルなどの商業種の生産が含まれています。2000年の開始以来、復興プロジェクトでは様々な種類の木を約10,000本植えました。

    環境にやさしいAIREのスピーカーには、木材だけが使われています。この木材は商業的な用途ではなく、木を伐採したものではなく、廃棄物や廃材、農場で枯れた木などを使用しています。クリエイティブなプロセスを経て、この上質な木材に新たな命を与え、回収してAIREのスピーカーを作っています。

    それぞれのスピーカーは、異なる種類の木から作られた一点もので、大量生産ではなく、各パーツに個性があります。熟練した大工が、木の性質を尊重しながら一つ一つのパーツを彫っていきます。AIREのスピーカーは、エクアドルの地元アーティストが手描きで描いたアート作品の一部です。

    AIREは、グローバルな視点でローカルに作られており、オーガニックでシンプルなものと新しいモバイルデバイスを組み合わせ、自然と人の架け橋となり、持続可能な共存の精神で敬意をもって作られています。

    AIREの特徴は何ですか?

    エコロジカルスピーカー「AIRE」の制作は、環境回復のための共同プロジェクトです。AIREが作られている土地は、エクアドルのエスメラルダス州リオベルデ・カントンにある15ヘクタールの広さです。この土地は、人口の60%がアフロ・エクアドル人である小さな漁村、パウフィから1キロのところにあります。

    このプロジェクトには、谷に囲まれた原生林への敬意を込めた在来種の木材(マホガニー、シダー、モラル、グァチャペリなど)の回復と、チークやローレルなどの商業種の生産が含まれています。2000年の開始以来、復興プロジェクトでは様々な種類の木を約10,000本植えました。

    環境にやさしいAIREのスピーカーには、木材だけが使われています。この木材は商業的な用途ではなく、木を伐採したものではなく、廃棄物や廃材、農場で枯れた木などを使用しています。クリエイティブなプロセスを経て、この上質な木材に新たな命を与え、回収してAIREのスピーカーを作っています。

    それぞれのスピーカーは、異なる種類の木から作られた一点もので、大量生産ではなく、各パーツに個性があります。熟練した大工が、木の性質を尊重しながら一つ一つのパーツを彫っていきます。AIREのスピーカーは、エクアドルの地元アーティストが手描きで描いたアート作品の一部です。

    AIREは、グローバルな視点でローカルに作られており、オーガニックでシンプルなものと新しいモバイルデバイスを組み合わせ、自然と人の架け橋となり、持続可能な共存の精神で敬意をもって作られています。

    AIREについてもっと知りたい方は、こちらまでご連絡ください。

    スティッキーヘッダー

    文字の入ったスティッキーエリア

    I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar.