Occlupanid

Example of an occlupanid (Archignatha)

Yesterday I discovered an interesting new word – occlupanid, which is defined by the Holotypic Occlupanid Research Group as follows:

“Occlupanids are generally found as parasitoids on bagged pastries in supermarket biomes, although a few species are found on vegetables and bulk grains, and one notable species (Uniporus) is found exclusively on vent tubing bags. Their fascinating and complex life cycle is unfortunately severely under-researched. What is known is that they take nourishment from the plastic sacs that surround the bagged product, not the product itself, as was previously thought. They often situate themselves toward the center of the plastic bag, holding in the contents. This leads to speculation that the relationship may be more symbiotic than purely parasitic.”

The common name for occlupanid is apparently breadtie, and the HORG is dedicated to the taxonomic classification of the breadties of the world. They provide details about different species of occlupanid – the one on the right is an archignatha (“first tooth”), for example – the morphology of their names, and their taxonomy and history. The term occlupanid comes from the Latin occlūdere (to shut up, to close) and the Greek παγ (pan – bread), which is also found in pancreas (“sweet bread”).

What do you call these things?

Pandora’s banjo

Banjo

Last night a friend asked me about the origins of the word banjo. I wasn’t sure, so I did some investigating and discovered that banjo comes from the word bandore as pronounced by African slaves – ban’jōre, ban’jō.

A bandore (/bænˈdɔə(r)/ /ˈbændɔə(r)/) is “a musical instrument resembling a guitar or lute, with three, four, or six wire strings, used as a bass to the cittern.” and arrived in English from the Spanish ban’durria / ban’dola or the Portuguese bandurra, which come from the Latin pandūra, from the Greek πανδοῦρα [Source].

A Greek πανδοῦρα (pandoura) was a kind of lute with three strings, and the word was used for other lute-type instruments. It possibly developed from and got it’s name from a type of Sumerian plucked lute known as a pantur (lit. “small bow”). There is also theory that the Greek πανδοῦρα came from or was influenced by Ancient Egyptian instruments.

The πανδοῦρα became popular among the Romans, especially during the first centuries AD and among the common people – members of ‘polite’ society apparently considered it a vulgar instrument suitable only for taverns, frivolity, low merry-making and popular music. [source]

The name Pandora (Πανδώρα) isn’t related to πανδοῦρα, as far as I can discover, and comes from the Greek words πᾶν “all” and δῶρον (gift), and means “all-gifted” or “all-endowed” [source]. I couldn’t resist using it as a punning title though.

Flame of the woods

Gold finch from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sheedypj/4176105819/in/photostream

Lasair choille or ‘flame of the woods’ is the Irish name for the goldfinch (carduelis carduelis), two of which I saw on my apple tree this morning. I like to know the names of birds and other creatures in the my languages, and particularly liked the Irish version when I discovered it.

The Irish word lasair means flame or blame comes from las (to light, inflame, ignite, blush). It probably shares the same root as the English word lamp, which comes from the French word lampe, from the Latin lampas, from the Greek λαμπάς (to shine).

In Welsh the goldfinch is known as nico, but has many other names, including jac nico, teiliwr llundain (London tailor), peneuryn (head gold jewel?), eurbinc (gold pink), pobliw (every colour), soldiwr bach y werddon (little soldier of the green place/oasis), cnot, ysnoden felen (yellow band) and asgell aur (gold wing).

The English word finch comes from the Old English finc, possibly from the Old Germanic *finki-z or finkjon, which is thought to be of echoic origin.

Names for the goldfinch in many other languages can be found on the avibase.

Rheithgor

I heard the word rheithgor (/ˈr̩əiθgɔr/) on Radio Cymru this morning in the context of a report on a trial, and guessed that it meant ‘jury’. The second element, gor, comes from côr (/koːr/) (choir, circle), and the first element, rheith, appears in such words as rheithfawr (greatly just), rheithiad (regulation), rheithio (to fix a law), rheithiol (established as law), and also in rheitheg (rhetoric) and rheithegydd (rhetorician). So rheith seems to have something to do with justice and law and a rheithgor could be a ‘law choir’.

Another Welsh word that includes the element côr is pwyllgor /ˈpʊɨɬgɔr/ (committee) – the pwyll part means ‘discretion; steadiness’, and a related word, pwyllo, means ‘to steady, consider, reason, reflect’ – things that committees might do.

The English word jury comes from the Anglo-Norman jure(e), from the Old French jurée (oath, juridical inquiry, inquest), from the medieval Latin jūrāta, from iūrāre (to swear), from iūs (law, duty), from the Proto-Indo-European *yAus- (ritual purity; supreme justice), which is also the root of just and justice.

The English word choir comes from the Middle English quer(e), from the Old French cuer (church choir), from the Latin chorus (a company of dancers, dance; company, band) from the Greek χορός (dance, company of dancers or singers). Chorus comes from the same root.

Sources: Y Geiriadur Mawr, A Pocket Dictionary (Welsh-English), Oxford English Dictionary, Wiktionary

Honey apples and quince cheese

Some of the apple jam and jelly I made last year

A recent discussion with a friend got me wondering about the differences between jam, jelly, conserve and marmalade and the origins of these words. I discovered that in some varieties of English and in other languages some or all of these words can be used interchangeably, for example in American English jelly can refer to both jam and jelly, and in Australian and South African English jam is used to refer to both jam and jelly, while these words refer to different things in the English of the UK, Canada and India.

Outside North America the jelly is also the name of a gelatin dessert known as jello or Jell-O in the USA and Canada.

Definitions

Marmalade /ˈmɑːməleɪd/: a preserve made from citrus fruit, especially bitter ‘Seville’ oranges, and also from grapefruit, lemons and limes. Often contains shredded or chopped peel from the fruit.

Etymology: first appeared in English in 1480 and comes from the Portuguese marmelada (a preserve made from quinces – quince jam/cheese), from marmelo (quince), from the Latin melimelum, (honey apple), from the Greek μελίμηλον (melímēlon – a kind of apple grafted on a quince), from μέλι (meli -honey) and μήλον (mēlon – apple).

The practice of cooking fruit with honey or sugar to preserve it apparently dates back to the Greeks, who discovered that quinces cooked slowly with honey would set when cooled. This discovery was taken up by the Romans, who used this method to make preserves of such fruit as quinces, lemons, apples, plums and pears.

Jam /dʒam/ – a sweet spread or conserve made from fruit and sugar boiled to a thick consistency. Usually the fruit is peeled and stones, pips, etc are removed before it is cooked.

Etymology: uncertain, perhaps related to jam (to press tightly) and of imitative origin.

Jelly /ˈdʒɛli/ – a clear fruit spread made from sweetened fruit (or vegetable) juice. With jellies the fruit is chopped up but there is no need to peel or core it as the pulp resulting from cooking the fruit with water is filtered through a cloth such as muslin. The juice is then mixed with sugar and cooked until it sets.

Etymology: from Old French gelee (frost, jelly), from Latin gelata (frozen), from gelare (freeze), from gelu (frost). Related to the Italian word gelato (icecream).

Conserve /kənˈsəːv/ a preparation made by preserving fruit with sugar; jam or marmalade. Also known as whole fruit jam. The fruit is often spread with sugar and left to steep for a few hours before it is cooked, and the cooking is shorter than with jam as the aim is that the fruit absorbs the sugar but doesn’t break up.

Etymology: from Old French conserve, from Latin conservare (to preserve), from con- (together) and servare (to keep).

In other languages fruit preserves have various names

– in French confiture can be used for jam, jelly and marmalade, which is also referred to as confiture d’oranages or marmelade d’oranges. marmelade is defined as ‘stewed fruit, compote’ in my French dictionary. Jelly/jello, the gelatin dessert, is known as gelée.

– in German Marmelade is jam, jelly and marmalade; Orangenmarmelade is also used for marmalade, and Konfitüre for jam. Jelly/jello is known as Wackelpeter or Wackelpudding.

– in Czech marmeláda is used for jam, jelly and marmalade, though džem (jam) and želé (jelly) also exist.

Sources: www.oxforddictionaries.com, wikipedia.org, www.etymonline.com, langtolang.com http://www.slovnik.cz/

Colds, streams and rivers

A snow-covered Siliwen Road in Bangor

It’s rather cold here at the moment with daytime temperatures not much above freezing, and nighttime dropping to -10°C (14°F) or even -20°C (-4°F) in places. As a result, some of the snow that fell last week has frozen solid and been trampled down on pavements and ungritted back streets making them decidedly icey and slippery.

I also have a cold at the moment, so I thought I’d look into how to say “I have a cold” in a number of languages. In French it’s “Je suis enrhumé” or “I am enrhumed”. Enrhumé comes from rhume (cold), which comes from the Old French reume, from the Latin rheuma, from the Greek rheuma (stream, current, a flowing), from rhein (to flow), from the Proto-Indo-European *sreu- (to flow). The Proto-Indo-European *sreu- is also the root of the Irish sruth (stream, river), the Welsh ffrwd (stream) and the Polish strumyk (brook). [source].

The Czech word for cold rýmu appears to be spring from the same source – mám rýmu is “I have a cold” by the way – as does the English word rheumatism. You can also say jsem nachlazený for “I have a cold” in Czech, which has a similar structure to the French phrase – “I am colded” or something like that.

In Welsh you don’t have a cold but rather a cold is on you: mae annwyd arna i, and the other Celtic languages use the same structure, “Is cold on/at me”: tá slaghdán orm (Irish), tha ‘n cnatan orm (Scottish Gaelic), ta feayraght/mughane aym (Manx).

In German “I have a cold” is Ich bin erkältet (“I am becolded?”), with erkältet coming from kalt (cold).

In Mandarin Chinese you say 我感冒了 (wǒ gǎnmào le) or “I catch cold [change of state particle]”.

Word of the day – Petrichor

Petrichor, noun, /ˈpɛtrɨkər/ – the scent of rain on dry earth.

It comes from the Greek πέτρος (petros – stone) and ἰχώρ (ichor – the fluid that flows in the veins of the Greek gods), and was coined in 1964 by two Australian researchers, I.J. Bear and R.G. Thomas. The smell isn’t of the rain itself but comes from the oils released by vegetation when rain falls [source].

I found this word while searching for dripple, which I hear on the radio last night and which was described as being a type of light rain that isn’t quite drizzle. The only references to dripple I could find gave it’s meaning as “weak or rare” and there was no mention of rain.

I also found the Beaufort Rain Scale, a spoof version of the Beaufort Scale which ranges from:

Force 0: Complete Dryness.
Absence of rain from the air. The gap between two periods of wet.
Associated Phrase: “it looks like it might rain.”

through

Force 4: Visible Light Shower.
Hair starts to congeal around ears. First rainwear appears. People start to remember washing left out. Ignored by all sportsmen except Wimbledon players, who dash for cover. A newspaper being read outside starts to tear slightly.
Associated Phrases: “it’s starting to come down now,” “it won’t last,” and “it’s settled in for the day now.”

to

Force 10: Hurricane.
Not defined inland – the symptoms are too violent and extreme (cars floating, newspaper readers lost at sea, people drowned by inhaling rain, etc.). So, if hurricane conditions do appear to pertain, look for some other explanation.
Associated Phrases: “oh my god, the water tank has burst – it’s coming through the kitchen ceiling,” and “i think the man upstairs has fallen asleep in his bath.”

Carpets and harvests

I moved into my new house yesterday and am currently having new carpets fitted, which got me wondering about the origins of the word carpet.

Carpet has been traced back to the Proto-Indo-European root *kerp- (to pluck, gather, harvest) via the Old French carpite (heavy decorated cloth), the Middle Latin carpita (thick woolen cloth) the past participle of the Latin carpere (to card, pluck).

*kerp- is also the root of the English word harvest, the Greek καρπός (karpos – fruit, grain, produce, harvest, children, poetry [fruit of the mind], profit); and the Irish ciorraigh (to cut, hack, maim).

Sources: Online Etymology Dictionary and Wiktionary.

Word of the day – ἀρετή (arete)

Today we have a guest post from Stephen Dunne.

ἀρετή (arete), noun = meaning virtue, goodness, excellence, purity.

This Classical Greek word is difficult to encapsulate precisely in English but expresses a state of almost distinguished self enlightenment. It can however mean many other things besides virtues attached to the self; the Greeks did use the word to describe the form of inanimate objects like vases or statues.

There are many ways to think of the physical form of arete. In Ancient Greece is was the capacity and fulfilment of attaining one’s potential, perhaps in face of much environmental difficulty.

In Philosophy, arete is central to the notion of Virtue Ethics and many of the ideas stem from Aristotelian thought. Virtue Ethics is a serious challenge to other mainstream moral schools like Deontology or Consequentialism.

These days, it could be argued that many of the books in the post-capitalist self-help genre are centred on the notion of arete, with individuals seeking non material fulfilment.

Votes and elections

With the UK general election coming up tomorrow, I thought I’d look at the origins of a few election-related words.

Vote comes from the Latin votum (a vow, wish, promise, dedication), which can be traced back to the PIE root *ewegwh- (to speak solemnly, vow). It first appeared in writing during the 15th century.

Election, which dates from the late 13th century, comes via the Anglo-Norman eleccioun (choice, between legal alternatives), from the Latin electionem, which is derived from eligere (to pick out, select).

Hustings comes from the Old Norse húsþing (council) from hus (house) plus þing (assembly). Hustings was first used to mean “a temporary platform for political speeches” during the early 18th century, and its meaning later expanded to include the whole election process.

The Alþingi or Althing is Iceland’s parliament and comes from the Old Norse al (all) plus þing. The name of the Isle of Man’s parliament, the Tynwald, comes from the Old Norse Þingvellir (assembly fields).

Parliament comes from the Old French parlement, which originally meant “speaking, talk,” from parler (to speak). The origins of parler can be traced back to the Late Latin parabolare (to speak (in parables)), from parabola (speech, discourse).

[update 06.05.10]

Candidate comes from the Latin candidatus (one aspiring to office), which originally meant “white-robed”, and is the past participle of candidare (to make white or bright). Office-seekers in ancient Rome traditionally wore white togas to symbolise their purity and worthiness for office. Every day togas were off-white or tan coloured.

The origins of candidare can be traced back to the PIE root *kand- (to glow, to shine) via the Latin candidum (white; pure; sincere, honest, upright) from candere (to shine). Other words that come from the same root include candle, candid, incandescent and incense.