Last week we were chatting about the style of certain classmates from college, and a friend said, “I bet he wears seersucker suits, doesn’t he?” In fact, he does. 😉 But it made me curious about the word.

We’ve likely all seen that iconic striped fabric…but did you know that the word seersucker actually means “milk and sugar”?

Say what? Yep. Seersucker, a fabric that came to the Western world in 1722, is taken directly from the Hindi sirsakar, which is directly from the Persian words for “milk” (shir) and “sugar” (shakar), referencing the alternately smooth and puckered surface of the striped cloth.

So…do you own any seersucker clothing? I have one pair of pants in the classic white/blue stripe–I like them, but they were actually a freebie from a bundle I purchased on Poshmark, not something I picked out myself, LOL.

If you’ve studied plot structure at all, you may have come across the word denouement. It’s that wrapping-up part of a story that happens after the climax, sometimes called the resolution.

We’ve been using this word in English since the 1750s, borrowed directly (of course) from the French. The French nouer, which means “to tie,” in turn comes directly from the Latin nodus, “a knot.” Add on that negative de- prefix, and we get a literal “to untie.” Which is to say, the mysteries or complications have all been unknotted, untied, laid out in a nice neat order. Makes sense, right?

What might not make sense, then, is why call the same things “tying things up” or object when too much is put in a “nice, neat bow.” Hmm…tying…untying… Well, as long as it’s not in knots!

As a historical writer, I’ve used the word betrothal plenty of times, since it was more common than engagement throughout much of history. But I’ve never actually paused to look up the root of the word! It makes total sense though, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

Betrothal is taken from the Old English treowth. Which means…read that word out loud and you’ll hear it, even if you didn’t immediately see it… TRUTH! Obviously, right? So be + treowth is literally a pledge or promise to be true. When we committ ourselves to another and promise to marry them, we are promising to forsake all others for them, to be true to them. Betroth and its various forms (betrothal, betrothed) date from about 1300, which is to say, from the time Old English began turning into English.

A simple examination, but oh so much fun for this historical romance writer!

I admit it–I’m a little bit obsessed with anything that belongs on a desk. Notebooks, pens, journals, even paperclips and staplers make me grin. When I walk into an office supply store, it takes great restraint to look only for what I need and not every pretty shade of ink, fun notebook, or shiny new desk accessory. And journals in particular I find so tempting.

All those pretty blank pages. A beautiful cover. Sometimes even a ribbon marker! YES, PLEASE!

Do I have “too many” journals sitting on my desk as I type this? Some would say so. But they gave me the idea for today’s post, so let’s just call them inspiration. 😉

Journal comes from the Latin diurnalis, which means “daily.” If you’re like me, you may be looking at that jou and the diu and be scratching your head at the different sounds, but we have the French to thank/blame for that change. 😉 Keeping in mind that j in French makes a kind of soft d sound, it becomes easier to understand. Apparently this shift happens especially when the d is followed by an iu combo. So the French became jurnal, used for a book of daily accounts of work or travel.

Interestingly, when the word jumped from French to English in the 1300s, it was used solely as “a book of church services,” no doubt to track daily mass. By the late 1400s, it began to be used for any “book used to track daily accounts.” By about 1600, it took on the “personal diary” meaning. And finally, by 1728, it could be used for “a daily publication.”

I use mine for keeping track of prayer requests; organizing before and after trips; occasionally writing prayerful or faith musings; writing down dreams and goals; and most frequently for keeping track of my running to-do lists, so very much in that “daily accounts” sense. Are you a journal lover? What do you use yours for most often?

Original post published October 23, 2017

Saturday as the kids and I were driving Rowyn to a birthday party, they were observing that it was way too warm for fall, and all the trees were still green . . . and Xoë

then said, “I don’t like that we call it fall. It should be autumn. Why did we ever start doing that?”

I knew the basics, but they didn’t begin to satisfy my word-picky daughter (girl after my own heart! LOL), so since today is her birthday and this amazing girl is now 12 (should NOT be possible!), I figured I would do the word of her choice. =)

Not surprising, the primary meaning of fall–“a falling to the ground”–is as old as English itself, dating to Old English in the 1200s. The sense of “autumn” came along in the 1600s, a shortened version of the poetic “fall of the leaf,” a saying that originated round about 1540. In the 1600s, fall was used for the season in England quite often–I assume those English speakers who came to America used it, and it stayed in use here while it fell out of it in England, because these days only the US uses it.

Though let it be noted that autumn isn’t all that much older. Though a word in English from the late 1300s (from the French and the Latin, though its origins are a bit obscure), harvest was actually the word for the season until the 1500s, when autumn began to take over. So it appears that autumn only reigned for about a hundred years before fall entered the scene, and now both are used.

Interestingly, though words for the other seasons all seem to come from a common root across the Indo-European languages, autumn does not. There are a wide variety of words for it that have nothing in common–some that take their roots from “end, end of summer” ideas, and others from the colors that dominate the season, like red, still others with a meaning that hints at the beginning of winter.

Whatever you call the season, I hope you’re enjoying it as much as my autumn-born daughter does! Happy birthday, Xoë!

Xoë at her party yesterday, in Ancient Greek style–complete with a gold laurel crown.