I love learning things through my kids’ school! A week or two ago, my daughter came out with her vocabulary book in hand to ask if I knew about the history of the word vignette. I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard this before, but it’s a fun progression!

So back in the day, book pages that contained pictures were often decorated with a border–and one of the most popular images to use for a border was a vine. (French vigne.) By 1751, this vine border had become known as a vignette, which is just a diminutive of the French. But over the years, the word began to be used for the picture on the page, not just the border. By 1853, vignette was used for a type of small photographic portrait.

Toward the end of the 19th century, this idea of a small image or sketch expanded into the literary world and began to be used for a short work of writing too–which is the meaning I’m most familiar with. I had no idea it had come originally from a vine used as a decorative border!

Do you have any books in your house with a vignette border on any pages?

Ever wonder why, when we’re stymied and/or confused, we say we’re stumped? I’d never really paused to wonder about this one, but my daughter learned this etymology in her history class and had to share, and it made me go, “Oh, of course!”

As early as the 13th century, this word was used to literally mean “to stumble over a tree stump.” It was in the early 1800s that Americans began using it in a metaphorical sense, and it’s believed to be because the literal use became so common as wagons ventured west–often getting stuck on stumps that hadn’t been cleared fully from the trail–and when clearing a field for plowing that it became a part of the everyday vernacular and so took on a broader meaning.

Etymologists also point out, though, that it probably stuck because it also called upon an earlier meaning of “to challenge or dare” that was used in the 1760s.

This one also comes courtesy of my daughter and her history book, which includes fun little snippets about what words got their origins in the time she’s studying (a history book after my own heart!). I think I’d heard this one before, but I’d forgotten.

Ever wonder why Americans call their dollar a buck sometimes? Unlike the English quid, which is probably directly from Latin, meaning “that which is, essence” (talk about a highfaluting nickname, LOL), the American buck has a more down-to-earth history.

Around the time when our money was being established, there was still quite a frontier. This was the age of trappers and hunters bringing hides from the wilds in to sell. And a deer hide was one of the standards–with it, one could barter, trade, or get hard currency. Want to take a guess at how much a buck’s hide was worth?

That’s right. One dollar. So buck and dollar were equivalent. If something was worth a dollar, it was worth a buck, so the two began to be used interchangeably–both in speech and in practice.

What could you get for a buck when you were a kid? (I’m guessing not an entire hide, LOL)

In my house, this has become a bit of a joke. Not knowing–or pausing to ask–the origin of the phrase sleep tight, we just sort of assumed it was related to being tucked in. Rowyn, who likes to be tucked and covered, “sleeps tight.” Xoe, who sleeps on top of her blankets, argues that she prefers to “sleep loose.” So every night, I call out to Rowyn, “Sleep tight, buddy!” and to Xoe, “Sleep loose, sweetie!”

Hasn’t gotten old yet. We still grin and chuckle over it pretty much every night.

But recently Xoe came darting out with her history book, which had a fun little lesson on the history of the phrase. Apparently, it dates to colonial times, when mattresses rested on ropes hung between the two sides of the bed frame. These ropes would be secured with metal fittings that had to be cranked periodically to keep them tight–to keep the mattress from sagging. So the phrase “sleep tight” originated as a sort of “hope your mattress doesn’t sag!” wish, LOL. Who knew? (Today’s equivalent would, I think, be for those sleeping on air mattresses…we all know to wish them a fully inflated sleep, right?)

When she shared this history with us, Rowyn was quick to say, “Ha! See, you sleep tight too!”

At which she remembered the time the slats in her bed broke and her mattress did indeed sag down. Apparently, she’s still the one person in our house who has slept loose. 😉

My October baking has inspired looking into this one. Why, exactly, do we say something’s made “from scratch” if it doesn’t use a mix? Maybe y’all know this already, since it’s pretty simple, but I was clueless, LOL.

In my head, I think it may have had something to do with the meaning of scratch that comes from the verb meaning “scrape together,” as in scratching out an existence. Because, you know, you scrape together the ingredients. Literally… And I guess that’s not totally far afield.

But in fact, it’s a bit more simple than that. One of the noun meanings of scratch is “nothing.” (Which I guess I’d never really paused to consider before.) So from scratch really means from nothing. Er, nothing pre-made anyway. Interestingly, that’s been in use since 1918.

Writing war books as I for some bizarre reason seem to do quite a bit (built in conflict?), I occasionally find myself looking up terms that have to do with weapons, fighting, etc. And sometimes–like this time–I’m quite surprised by what I find!

Apparently, I’ve been using shrapnel incorrectly. I’m pretty sure I’ve used it in a story before, and if I have, then it’s been wrong. Because it wasn’t until WW2 that shrapnel came to mean “shell fragments, any fragmented pieces that become airborne.”

So what was it before? A specific type of ammunition, actually, invented in 1784 by British military man Lt. Henry Shrapnel. His creation was actually a sort of cannonball that was filled with shot, meant to explode in the air and rain the shot down on the enemy. Though he dubbed it “spherical ammunition,” it was soon given his name instead.

So though the word was in use for a loooooong time, it didn’t take on the sense of “fragments,” often produced because of an explosion, until 150 years after its invention.