biomes and a brave new world of weeds

I learned a new word today - biome.

Your Dictionary.com defines biome as ‘any of several major life zones of interrelated plants and animals determined by the climate, as deciduous forest or desert’.

Our favorite walking spot, Darebin Parklands in Melbourne, is suffering terribly in the drought that has gripped southern Australia, and huge areas of the previously lush grassland are barren cracked expanses of dirt. But the weeds are surviving - for instance, resilient little fennel plants. (If you click on this picture to enlarge it, you will see a little patch of green in the bottom right corner.)







Our local paper, Heidelberg and Diamond Valley Weekly, had an article this week that gave me a fresh perspective on weeds. It seems that the Sydney Botanic Gardens Trust has recently issued a report suggesting that climate change may result in a world dominated by the plants we call weeds.

Wondering why they should say this, I checked out a few sites on the Net and found the reason is that most plants are very specific in their requirements for surival, so as biomes change, plants will die out. But the ones that are not so choosy will live on.

Maybe we should get used to a world of fennel. After all, it’s quite tasty cooked up with a fresh piece of fish.

My Etymology places the first use of the word biome in the twentieth century, with Merriam Webster specifying 1916, though I haven’t been able to discover the actual source of this first usage.

dog metaphors

I enjoyed reading The Pet Museum’s post about a collection of dog metaphors at metaphordogs.org.

In our household, our dog’s favorite soft toy, a dog, is known as Drover. It’s our play on the well-known expression ‘the drover’s dog.’ Ours is ‘the dog’s Drover’. Okay, it’s a bit weak, but we’re easily amused.

Henry’s Lawson’s famous poem, Ballad of the Drover, is the origin of the expression but it was made famous by Bill Hayden when he was replaced as leader of the ALP on the day Malcolm Fraser called a double dissolution election. Hayden remarked that even a ‘drover’s dog’ could lead the ALP to a win.

It's been hot lately. Very hot. So I finally had the nerve to go out in public with a parasol. Mine is like an umbrella except the patterned side of the fabric is on the underside and the outside is coated in reflective material. Incidentally, it provides useful protection for a camellia plant if the temperature reaches 111°F - which it did in Melbourne last week.












Lately I have seen people using umbrellas as a protection from the sun. And it seems to me they should be effective sunshades if the name is anything to go by. After all, the word umbrella comes from the Latin umbra, shade.

But to me an umbrella isn't primarily a shade-provider, it's a protection from rain. So I've been wondering why we don't have the same type of word the Germans do - Regenschirm. My possibly not-too-accurate translation is rain- screen. The idea of screening someone from something is echoed in the word Sonnenschirm for parasol. (I reckon that's probably sun -screen.) And then we come to Fallschirm for parachute - fall-screen? Hmm...that seems useful - something to make sure you glide down and don't fall down.

Seeking some information about the word umbrella, I visited Podictionary, where the author, Charles Hodgson, says:

The word came from Italy where it is not notoriously rainy; but rather is more notorious for being sunny. So it makes sense that the Italian meaning of the word ombrella meant “shade.”

The podictionary article is very interesting and you can listen as well as read it.

sometimes a comma can make your hankies stay dirty

A full-stop instead of a comma would have made it clear. The care instructions on the reverse of the packet of beautiful Liberty fabric handkerchiefs said, 'DO NOT BLEACH, WARM MACHINE OR HAND WASH, SHORT SPIN, WARM IRON'.
Hmm. If you can't bleach them, fine. But how will I keep them clean if I can't machine or hand wash?

one seraph is enough to sing about

Today I was listening to a beautiful rendition of 'Let the bright Seraphim' by Lesley Garrett and I thought seraphim would be a plural noun, based on the rules of the Hebrew language. But was the singular seraph?

Yes, my computer's dictionary said it was.

But it's a back-formation, a word formed by deleting the suffix from 'seraphim'. The Princeton WordNet explains a back-formation as 'a word invented (usually unwittingly by subtracting an affix) on the assumption that a familiar word derives from it.' For instance, the verb burgle came into use because of the mistaken assumption that burglar is a noun formed by adding the ar ending.

As William Safire said in the New York Times, "People do not consciously work out the backward step, but they have a sense that burgle is to burglar what sail is to sailor."

The Online Etymology Dictionary dates the first use of seraph to 1667, by Milton, and suggests he formed this singular noun by analogy with cherub/cherubim.

I guess Milton wouldn't have had much experience with Hebrew plurals used in English, as they're not common. Nowadays there are only a handful in use. Laurie Bauer, in the book Morphological Productivity, says there are probably only cherubim, seraphim, kibbutzim and goyim in regular use.

After considering all this information I was left with the question: what did people before 1667 call one of the seraphim?

Maybe they just didn't talk about them.

millionth word in English?

When is a word a word? According to most dictionaries, there are about 600,000 words in English, but the Global Language Monitor reports that it has so far tracked about 900,000, and that a new word is added to the English language every 98 minutes.

Paul JJ Payack, president and chief word analyst at the Monitor, quotes the Middle English definition of a word as 'a thought spoken'..."which means if I say a word, and you understand me, it's a real word."

I read about this on Boing Boing. The original article at Smithsonian.com explains the difference between the methods used by traditional dictionaries and the algorithm used by Global Language Monitor, who expect the millionth English word to be coined around April 2009.

becoming a locavore

I discovered a new word just now, one that appeals to me on many levels: it was coined by women; it expresses a hopeful view of what we can do to avert climate catastrophe; and it quickly achieved inclusion in the New Oxford American dictionary. In fact, it was declared by Oxford University Press USA as the 2007 word of the Year.

The word is locavore and was invented recently by four women in San Francisco. It defines a person who tries to eat only food grown or produced within a radius of 100 miles. Such food is said to be more nutritious, to taste better, and to use less fuel in transportation.

I support the concept expressed in this new word, though I have read it can be better to transport food from a distance if it comes from a more environmentally efficient source than the local one.

Enthusiasm for the ultimate in local produce - my own garden - prompted me to browse the Net and I was researching this topic when I came across the word locavore on a site called Edible Garden.

A class at Bulleen Art and Garden last night has filled my head with plans to transform our garden into a rich harvest of vegetables and fruits. However, a little voice does whisper, 'Yes, but it has to rain!' (We've just had the driest September ever recorded.) On the other hand, there are also more classes promised, on the use of recycled water, so I guess I should stay hopeful. The teacher, Karen Sutherland, showed us photos of her own productive and beautiful garden.

I guess I'm not the only one full of hopeful plans, because I heard on the radio today that the growing of vegetables in the home garden has become hugely popular in the US, Britain and Australia.