How I wish I could remember more words. Period.<\/p>\n
I am particularly fond of etymology, which would be rather like chasing butterflies if words had wings. Not only are they as hard to catch, but pinning them down takes much of the life out of them. Rather see them flying free, and pluck them out of the air and release them later. Or sit on the bank of a dark stream and watch their sleek silver flanks flash in the pools and eddies. Slowly slide my hand into the cool water and hook my fingers in their gills. I know you now, gasping in the air, I\u2019ll put you back, but now I have your name.
\nI actually even READ dictionaries, the plot is about on par with a lot of modern fiction anyway, and at least you can follow the development. Alas, words are wild creatures ; all my attempts to domesticate them fail and I remain a hunter-gatherer\u2026<\/p>\n
It seems that any language is like a forest \u2013 rotting stumps, twisted old trees, young saplings, sunlit glades and thickets, brambles and ferns. Words sprout, grow, prosper, then die away and are forgotten.<\/p>\n
So many wonderfully intriguing words, like a carpet of leaves.
\nSo, it\u2019s no wonder that my favourite letter no longer exists :
\nThorn.<\/p>\n
Thorn was the English letter for the \u00ab th \u00bb sound, falling by the wayside with the spread of the printing press. (Yogh and eth were thorn\u2019s partners in obsolescence, by the way, all three deleted arbitrarily by William Caxton, who had gone shopping for letters south of the Channel \u2013 hardly likely that the French woodblock cutters would have drawers full of thorns\u2026 resulting in the whole silly and mispronounced \u00ab Ye olde\u2026 \u00bb business.\u00a0 Those fractious fricatives, always causing trouble.)<\/p>\n
Thorns are easy to get attached to, given their nature, and given that thorn is no longer amongst the lucky 26, I\u2019m all hung up on them, thorns have snagged me, sweater and soul. And, given that the step from word to image is a one lightly taken by an illustrator, I have now a sketchbook full of thorns. (Currently I am seeking a generous soul who will let me indulge my passion by paying me a ridiculous amount of to draw thorns for the rest of my life. Failing that, I\u2019ll pursue anyway, true to my vocation of drawing \u201cdark spiky things\u201d.)<\/p>\n
Sometimes I wander into a dictionary with a word in mind – one s or two, i before e – but end up wandering rapt in a glossary of groves and glades, a lexicon of leaves, a tangle of tenses\u2026 This has spilled over into our actual walks. \u00ab Are you coming ? \u00bb \u00ab Sorry, got caught on those brambles back there. \u00bb (I was never very good at getting the \u00ab meta \u00bb out of \u00ab physical \u00bb.)<\/p>\n
The Howe & John Expedition headed bravely off into the Wild Wordwoods west of the Mississpelli and was never heard from again. Their native guide, affectionately nicknamed \u00abWebster\u00bb, also disappeared without a tense\u2026 evidence is sketchy, but foul word play is suspected.
\nPICTURE PERFECT<\/p>\n
Illustrator Fataneh Ramazani, whose portfolio<\/a> is tucked away in a corner of this site, is accepting commissions. Portraits of any sort, colour or black & white. She is also the author of the best phrase I\u2019ve heard in a long while. We had just gone to see a most wonderful spectacle of gypsy music, with musicians and dancers from Rajastan, the Middle East, the Balkans and Spain. Each \u00ab chapter \u00bb of the trip that gypsy music made on he long trek west was fabulous, and at the end, all four groups joined in a magic saraband that owed nothing to edulcorated \u00ab world music \u00bb fare, but was a symphony of resonance, a musical conversation and exchange, full of mutual respect and far beyond words. Very, very beautiful and inspirational. MOVING HOUSE<\/p>\n As the saying goes : \u00ab Due to popular demand\u2026 \u00bb The site has outgrown the current server, so Dom, like some diligent alpine shepherd, will escort the digital flock to a new pasture, rather more ample. The site will be shifting to the new server this weekend, so the forum will be down for a day or so, either this weekend or in the early part of next week.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Or the Entomology of Etymology How I wish I could remember more words. Period. I am particularly fond of etymology, which would be rather like chasing butterflies if words had wings. Not only are they as hard to catch, but pinning them down takes much of the life out of them. Rather see them flying […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[507],"class_list":["post-2118","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chronicles","tag-etymology"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1PY8Y-ya","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2118","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2118"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2118\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2118"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2118"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2118"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nFor enquiries, write to contact@john-howe.com<\/a> .
\nPHRASE OF THE WEEK<\/p>\n
\nOn the way out, my wife said :
\n\u00ab See, that\u2019s what it sounds like in heaven. Everyone playing their own music, but together. \u00bb
\nAmen.<\/p>\n