highland gloaming | Luss, Scotland 2005
I’m intrigued by words that define a “between” moment and often need to remind myself that between-times can be beautiful. Like last week’s word, nascent, which describes something coming into existence — budding, but not yet in full bloom. Or one of my all-time favourite words – gloaming, which so aptly names that time after sunset and before dark.
touch of spring | Kansas City, KS 2008
I’ve been rereading Anne Perry’s William Monk mysteries. I know they’re not on my reading list, nor are they connected to my bookclub (I’m supposed to be reading Adam Levin’s The Instructions currently), but when life is stressful, I don’t pick up a 1000-page book (Levin) or a Russian novel (Crime & Punishment, from my own list)* — I turn to one of my old favourites. Plus, these Victorian mysteries count as research for a project I’m working on.
Besides creating great characters set in well-detailed historical settings, Perry is good at selecting just the right word at the right time. Her writing isn’t necessarily “high-class” literature, but I often find myself noting a particular word she chose.
the patio bedecked with snow | Kansas City, KS 2013
the patio bedecked with snow | Kansas City, KS 2013
One of my jobs is to write SEO-enhanced product descriptions. So, amid the Blizzard of Oz while the snow piled up outside, I was cozied up inside pondering ways to describe summer patio furniture and lawn ornaments. Ha!
When working on these projects I often find myself stuck trying to think of different words with which to say the same thing over and over again. During one such moment, when trying to think of a fresh way to say “adorning” the word “bedeck” came to mind. I second-guessed myself: Is that even a word? What a silly looking word. But the squiggly red line didn’t appear [in Word] so it had to be “real”. I right-clicked to check its synonyms to ensure I was using it correctly.
fillip options: sage & mint from my garden | 2012
fillip options: sage & mint from my garden | 2012
We read Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for book club this month. (Actually, I’m still reading it — 200 pages left to go!) One thing I’ve appreciated about the book is how Smith tosses out detailed descriptions of everyday things — a meal, an outfit — almost like a recipe for life in 1900s Brooklyn.
Unexpectedly, I found myself becoming a little enamoured with the Nolans’ approach to poverty. Being on a tight budget myself, I began wondering if I should try to incorporate some of their attempts at economy. I realize this sounds like I’m romanticizing the struggle of being poor; I am not by any means discounting the hardship of poverty. Rather, reading this reminded me of something Anne Shirley said: There are so many things in this room and all so splendid that there is no scope for imagination. That is one consolation when you are poor — there are so many more things you can imagine about. Oh, imagination.
Seriously — no name calling here; just appreciating funny-sounding words with intriguing back stories. Like I mentioned last {word wednesday}, two of the synonyms for milksop caught my funny bone: namby-pamby and milquetoast. I ended up checking their definitions and discovered they were more than just synonyms for milksop — each word had its own backstory.
Starting with the second oldest word first, namby-pamby was born in the mind of 18th century writer Henry Carey when he wrote a poem in 1725 ridiculing the verse (and politics) of Ambrose Philips. Carey formed the word to rhyme with the first syllable of his target’s name.
As part of my book journey through 2013, I’m now half-way into Crime and Punishment. Anyone else currently reading this strange dialogue?
Yesterday I came across two great words in the same paragraph (middle of page 267): aureole and milksop. It falls in the midst of a string of Pyotr Petrovich’s thoughts (he’s the suitor of the main character’s sister), following a particularly rousing scene (I won’t give anything away). Way before this passage, when you first meet Petrovich, you immediately recognise him as a pompous ass, which I think will be apparent in the following lines, even out of context.
Reading Crime & Punishment over soup and mulled wine at The White Horse | Oxford, England 2012
Reading Crime & Punishment over soup and mulled wine at The White Horse | Oxford, England 2012
As part of my 2013 reading plan, I’m in the midst of reading Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, in which I spotted two great words: fluffles and funk. The first can’t be found in a dictionary (bold move on the translator’s part!); and the second may not mean what you think it means.
If you set out to read Crime and Punishment, your settings and state of health can affect your reading.
Kauffman Gardens | Kansas City, MO 2010
A merry word from Sir Walter Scott‘s Marmion to keep you warm and festive still!
Today’s word is simple, but I love its meaning.
Hobbiton | New Zealand 2010
Hobbiton | New Zealand 2010
Beyond creating entire languages for elves and orcs, Tolkien was known for making up English words as well. As you read The Hobbit, you might find yourself confidently checking a dictionary for a definition only to find it not there, because with Tolkien’s knowledge of the fundamentals of language, his made-up words sound real.
Here are a few words (regular English and Tolkien-ese) that might make you search Google. Interestingly, several of the words were synonymous with confusion.
Yesterday, when Ali commented on my Rilke post saying his work left her quieted I immediately thought of this quote, shortened from a part of his Book of Hours poem (II, 10).
You inherit the autumns, folded like festive clothing
in the memories of poets; and all the winters,
like abandoned fields, bequeath you their quietness.
