How many seasons in Australia?

Recently I've been reading an interesting book about the seasons in Australia -  Sprinter and Sprummer. It made me realise that Australian conditions don't fit the seasonal template developed for Britain, the USA and Europe.

The author,  Timothy Entwisle, says indigenous cultures in this continent divided the year in different ways, many having six seasons, some five, and at least one only four seasons.

I've just finished reading another book also - You Call It Desert, We Used to Live There. It's about the  people who lived in what's now known as The Great Sandy Desert. Many still visit or live there, but not in the same numbers as before contact with Europeans.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this book is the use of verb tense. The Introduction says:

In the following chapters I describe some of the features of life in the desert as told or shown to me by people who once lived here. Where there has been no real change I use the present tense, and when I describe life as it was lived by nomadic bands before they settled I use the past. The language in the text is Jimmy Pike's language, Walmajarri.

In the chapter on telling the time, the authors - Pat Lowe and Jimmy Pike - say:

Seasons were marked in several ways. First, there were the changes in weather each with its own term: wantapuru (cold time), larlilari(mild-weather time), parranga (hot time), yitilal (rainy time), and jutalkarra (after rain or green-grass time). Then there was the night sky: the appearance of certain constellations heralds or coincides with particular terrestrial events and is in some cases believed to be responsible for them. The arrival of the seven women or jakulyukulyuwarnti - the Pleiades - in the sky before dawn signals the onset of the coldest nights. 

These are two books to show modern Australians we have a lot to learn from the original inhabitants about how best to live here - and we can't slavishly follow habits developed in the opposite hemisphere.

origin of the phrase 'rule of thumb'

At a workshop today about edible weeds, we discussed the danger of tasting unknown plants, and the group agreed that it would be generally safe to try a tiny piece of foliage from a plant. (But I guess it would be most unfortunate if anyone tried that on a poisonous toadstool.)

One participant said he'd heard the phrase 'rule of thumb' originates from the idea that it's fairly safe to try a piece of leaf that's smaller than a man's thumb.

I can't see any references to this origin on the Internet. In fact, it seems more likely that the phrase comes from the use of the thumb as a rough measure of length. Wikipedia points out:

 The use of a single word or cognate for "inch" and "thumb" is common in many other Indo-European languages, for example, French: pouce inch/thumb; Italian: pollice inch/thumb; Spanish: pulgada inch, pulgar thumb;Portuguese: polegada inch, polegar thumb; Swedish: tum inch, tumme thumb; Sanskrit: angulam inch, anguli finger; Slovak: palec, Slovene: palec inch/thumb, Czech: palec inch/thumb.

By the way, it was a great workshop. I as I've said before and before and before, our thinking often depends on the words we use. If I call this lovely little plant a weed, it might irritate me to see it growing in my garden.

But if I call it a herb, or even a potherb, or just plain old 'food', then it's a different story. I think it's chickweed, but I'm not sure enough to say so straight out. I'd better sign up for another weed workshop, or perhaps I should consult Doris Pozzi's handbook of edible weeds. (She presented the workshop.) 

weeds and wildflowers

In yesterday's post I wrote about the difference one word can make to our thinking. Weed? Herb?

If it's a weed we worry about it. (Maybe). If it's a herb we think of it as useful.

If it's an indigenous wildflower, however, it becomes even more pleasant to look at. Take the lovely oxalis pes caprae, for instance. As I searched the Net for information about this plant, I needed to click through dozens of pages of negativity about it before I came to this lovely shot of the delicate little plant growing where it should, looking lovely in its natural surroundings.

In my garden it's equally attractive but I'm trying to get rid of it, because it's so invasive that it stops other plants from flourishing.

The other plant that flourishes in my garden and out-competes my native grasses is panic veldt grass, also from South Africa.

But I guess it's a matter of give and take, because if I read the contents page of a book I brought home from a trip to South Africa, what do I see? 

 

I see that our Australian plants are invading South Africa.

Weed, wildflower - once again the word we choose is determined by the circumstances surrounding the named object. 

 

powerful words

Stop - a powerful word that brings the traffic to a halt.

Some anonymous but passionate person has used its impact to make a strong statement about the need for Australia to halt the dreadful torment of live animals being sent on hellish ships to die horribly in faraway places.

I wonder what message the purple graffiti are meant to convey? They do reveal that the spray-painter was an idiot, but I don't think that's the intended meaning. At least the lower one provides a colorful contrast to the sticker about animal cruelty.

at last, a photo of Kathryn/e street that is nearly visible

Here's a pretty good nother try at photographing the strange additional letter on the sign for Kathryn Street on the Metropolitan Ring Road in Melbourne.



Oh, I would so-o like to know who did it and why.

to apostrophe or not to apostrophe

A sign on a parked car caught my attention today - Dyson group of companies. I was sitting in the sunshine outside a vet clinic, having voted with my feet to enjoy the fresh air rather than be crammed into the busy waiting room.

A bus had broken down at the nearby stop and I enjoyed watching the consequent comings and goings.

Finally I noticed the bus had Dysons written on the front. Aha, that explained the man with the clipboard who'd climbed out of the car and gone to talk to the driver of the bus.

Why Dysons on the front of the bus? Why not Dyson?

Maybe a plurality of Dysons ran the bus company.

Or perhaps the word was a possessive; the bus was Dyson's property. If so, why was there no apostrophe?

In 1966 the Geographical Names Board of Australia decided placenames and street or road names in text, maps and public signs would be written without an apostrophe.

About twenty years ago the final act of a retiring principal at a local school was to climb a ladder and insert the apostrophe in the school's name - Pender's Grove Primary School. It's gone now (the apostrophe, not the school).

Sadly, he was twenty years too late to fight that battle of names, because the school was named after a place.

However, I still wondered about the Dysons question.

The official Australian Style manual says on page 86:

A possessive apostrophe is not necessary in the names of institutions, professional and industry bodies and other groups.

Perhaps the car had the clue after all; Dyson GROUP. Maybe they read their Style Guide and noted page 86.