A word I knew already!

 

"The gifts of winter" by Stephanie Fitzgerald has introduced me to some wonderful new words but today I want to think about a word I knew already.  Self.

I didn't expect to find Self among her "words of winter" but there it is.  At first I just skimmed past it but I found I had to go back, re-read and think.  

Dr Fitzgerald suggests that winter is the season of the self.  She calls us to consider self-love, self-compassion, self-connection.  It's a time for us to give ourselves permission to focus on ourselves and to permit ourselves to be authentic.  We can get caught up in the busy-ness of life but the slower rhythms of winter give us the opportunity (as I mentioned yesterday) of making sure our bodies and souls are in harmony.

Father, thank you for making me just as I am.

Thank you for my uniqueness and purpose.

Help me to value who you created me to be

and to use my life to honour you.  Amen.

A word from Japan

Yutori, as "The Gifts of Winter" tells me, is a Japanese word meaning space or room to breathe.  

Winter is a good time to slow down, forget rushing (especially when Christmas has been and gone) and appreciate the world around us.  That sounds like the very essence of winter in my hibernaculum.  It's a time of very deliberate slowing down and making sure my body and soul are comfortable with each other.  

The Japanese even have the concept of yutori education, with more integrated study time and less curriculum content. The aim is to balance intellectual, moral, and physical education.  

Another word

Finding lovely new words has been one of the joys of this winter.  I wouldn't have the time (or maybe even the inclination) to relish words in the summer.  And Stephanie Fitzgerald's book "The Gifts of winter" has introduced me to another word, trygghet.

Trygghet is a Swedish word and it's about a feeling of safety and security, especially when the weather outside is "challenging".  Coming in from weather like that it's lovely to give a deep sigh and relax.  Yesterday was a miserable rainy day here and I was so glad to shut the front door and settle in front of my (electric with flame effect) fire.  

Words

 Sorry about my absence - I've been a bit short on "oomph" the last few days.

But I've been reading "The Gifts of Winter" by Stephanie Fitzgerald.  So far I have found this to be the most helpful book for me.  And she has introduced me to a new word - confelicity.  Isn't it a lovely word!

And it's a lovely concept.  It describes the joy we can feel at someone else's happiness.

I've noticed several people trying to reframe winter for themselves, rather like my hibernaculum project.  Sue from Suffolk wrote about a local hibernaculum and Sam wrote her winter thoughts.  In my quiet, rather pensive days, I have found joy in their explorations too.

Deliberately seeking joy in someone else's happiness is a delightful thing to do  so I shall cultivate confelicity.  

Calling all maulifuffs!

 

Back in October I called all maulifuffs* to stand proudly together.  A few of you took time out from being busy doing nothing and signed up. 

December is not a good month to be a maulifuff but if you managed it, have a gold star.  For myself, I am quite proud of how little I achieved, but I have no partner, children or grandchildren.  I took a couple of services though which reduces my maulifuffing score which I am far too lazy to calculate anyway.  By the way, if there are men in your life, I have discovered they can be maulibums (or so Susie Dent from Dictionary Corner says).

January is a month which can make or break us.  New Year resolutions and all that.   For maulifuffs it is fine to make them, better to break 'em.  

*If you haven't a clue what I am on about you may like to know that maulifuff is an old Scottish word for a woman devoid of energy, who would happily do nothing for hours on end.

Words

I'm sure you've noticed the number of bloggers who have been writing about the period we are now in.  I've been looking though blog posts and comments and I've found a few names for this time.

Slack water

In-between days

End of the year

Towards next year

Decenuary

Twixmas (or Twixtmas)

The late December gap

The lost week

I'm sticking with the Daft Days but does anyone have other names for them?  Or maybe a favourite among the ones I have found?

Clinomania

 

I've got a mild attack of clinomania today.  Clinomania?   -  an excessive desire to lie down.

Very little will be done by anyone or anything other than my recliner chair.  I've had a lovely couple of days away, there's nothing urgent to be done, and I fancy a lazy day.

See you tomorrow - if I can get up!

Discombobulated

 

I don't often get chance to use that word but it's how I was yesterday.

It was ridiculous.  Our swimming session was cancelled and it completely threw me.  You'd think an unexpected morning of leisure would be wonderful but I just couldn't get my act together.

I wandered into the dining room to do a bit of decluttering but I couldn't get my head around the mess.  I sorted the ironing but that's as far as I got.  I thought about making butternut soup, then I thought, "Nah". 

I managed to visit a friend to sort out an on-line identification for me.  Fortunately she did the whole thing or it wouldn't have got done.

But at least I got a good day of maulifuffing done right at the start of the week.  I can be proud of that.  

Hail, fellow maulifuffs!

Maulifuff - a woman who appears to keep herself busy but achieves nothing

Following Saturday's flood of enrolments in the Maulifuff Sisterhood, I feel we need a few suggestions for activities.  Here's a few to set the ball rolling.

1.  Write a to-do list and then lose it.

2.    Start a blog post but don't finis

Winter words

 

I don't think I suffer from cheimaphobia but I will plead guilty to brumation.  It happens and sometimes slips into clinomania: most of the time I resist duvet days.  I could perhaps be justly described as a maulifuff: in fact it would often be true, but as no-one around me knows the word, I am safe, as far as I know.  

Glossary

Maulifuff - a woman who appears to keep herself busy but achieves nothing

Cheimaphobia - a fear or intense dislike of the winter

Brumation - wintertime sluggishness.

Clinomania -  an excessive desire to lie down

Somewhere to hang my stocking

When I first moved into this house, nearly sixteen years ago, there was a truly hideous gas fire with a huge brick fireplace in the sitting room.  It came out the first day I had possession!

I then bought a neat little electric fire with glowing pebbles to imitate flames.  That was nice but eventually it died and for the last few years I have had no fireplace or fire at all in my sitting room, just relying on the central heating.

I really missed having a fire, especially at Christmas as there was nowhere to hang a stocking!  So, I've been looking various suppliers and last week I treated myself.  

I feel it is a good addition to my hibernaculum  which will become more howffy.

(Hibernaculum and howffy are both described in this post)

Changing

 

Yesterday afternoon was distinctly brumal and I had to add an extra layer of clothing.  Autumn is definitely arriving after the long, hot (and dry) summer of 2025.  It’s right back-end now.

Leaves are definitely turning.  The horse chestnuts have been on the turn since mid-August but other trees are beginning to go brown now.  The world is becoming aureate and the chiaroscuro is wonderful in the early morning.

 Just so you know

Aureate – golden-coloured.

Back-end – a Lincolnshire dialect word for autumn, meaning the “back end” of the year

Brumal – wintry, but often used to describe the creeping chill of autumn.

Chiaroscuro – interplay of light and shadow

What's in a name?

I used to be Rector of a hamlet called Spital in the Street.  Sounds revolting but it was originally a Hospital on the Street.  We're talking place of hospitality for travellers going along Ermine Street to the Shrine of St Hugh at Lincoln.  

Lincolnshire has some wonderful place names.  People who went over to America took place names with them.  We have the original Boston.  We've got a New York too.

Comedians seem to like our place names too.  You may have come across Mavis Enderby in Bridget Jones Diary but she has her place in this county.  

And when comedian James Rogers wanted a stage name he chose the name of a Lincolnshire village.  Boothby Graffoe. 

Is tha one o the frim folk?

 

If you’re not a yellow belly, you’re one of the frim folk, in other words you are from somewhere other than Lincolnshire.  Or as my grandad would have said “Tha’s from t’other side o Lincoln”.

In a few minutes I’ll be having my daily phone call with Jack and some people would find it difficult to know what we are talking about.  You know already that Lincolnshire ducks don’t quack.  But did you know that you too could be a duck as it’s also a term of endearment?  And maybe I would have to duck if that’s what I called you and you fetched me a clout!  And then I might end up beeling (crying). 

It's been ower 'ot bi aife (it’s been very hot lately) and in the absence of a pool to dive into, I’ve been diving into Lincolnshire dialect.  It seemed a better idea than being as mardy as me bum (sulky).  Don’t get frit, though.  (Margaret Thatcher once used “frit” in the House of Commons to taunt an opponent whom she accused of running scared.)

But that name “Yellow Belly” which we Lincolnshire folk proudly use of ourselves, is actually a mystery.  There are many theories about its origin, but no-one really knows.

Did you just call me Twinkle?

 It used to be the custom for our local newspaper to include an article about anyone celebrating their hundredth birthday.  But no centenarian ever said anything: according to the reporters they always "chuckled" it.

The last time I went to our local chemist's with a prescription the assistant persisted in calling me Twinkle.  Eventually I called her Petal which caused amusement among the other older people in the shop but the assistant was none too pleased.

According to The Guardian yesterday, this is "benevolent ageism".  The speaker means well but is unwittingly patronising when s/he uses "elderspeak".  

It's not always easy.    In some places calling a stranger Love is elderspeak but around here you can be Love at any age.  Disability also brings verbal discrimination and people with disabilities often find themselves being treated like children.

There is no malice intended and usually the speaker is trying to be kind and show him/herself willing to help and "make allowances".

But I still don't like it.  How about you?

Do you aestivate?

 

I did, last weekend.  Everything was just too much so I aestivated with just about everyone else.  It felt like the only thing to do.  Aestivation is essential for quite a few invertebrates but this vertebrate favours the idea too.

Aestivation is the summer equivalent of hibernation.  It's an adaptation for survival in high temperatures or drought conditions to stop desiccation (drying out) of the animal.  I just use the word for getting through a heatwave!

There are lots of wonderful words associated with summer.  It's the time of frondesence when leaves and plants are in full bloom.  It's a season to long for zephyrs, those lovely breezes.  (Am I showing my age too much when I say that zephyr makes me think of cars?)

I think I might be aestivating again by the end of this week

Pruinesence

 

Many words from the winter dictionary won't become part of my vocabulary but I think I could make an exception for pruinesence.  It's the beautiful white covering of frost seen on crisp winter days.  A much nicer term than hoar frost, I think you will agree.  It's easy to find lovely cosy words for the winter but beautiful outdoor ones are to be treasured.  

These days I admire the trees at a distance.  All too often the weather is too snarry for me.  Snarry?  Piercingly, bitingly cold.  It's much colder riding on a trundle truck than walking!  I will watch any snow blossoms from a distance.  And that's not just me being poetic - snowflakes were called snow blossoms (at least in written English) before they were called snowflakes.   

Aglidder ground

 

 

I've been looking through The Winter Dictionary again!  I haven't been outside even as far as the wheely bins because the ground is totally aglidder.  Is it slippery where you are too?   

Last night I think it may have blunked as the snow covering is very light.  Heavy snow isn't happening around here, thank goodness! Just a light covering or flindriken.   (Maybe you would call such a light snowfall a greymin, which sounds a very descriptive word.)  I haven't been around to see even a flother (single snowflake) falling as such snow as there is fell overnight. Instead everything is chibbly.  Chibbly?  That's right, crisp and crackly with frost.  I suspect it would creange if I stepped on it but I won't be stepping anywhere outside today so I won't hear the crackling of ice or frozen ground as it breaks under pressure.  

I think there was probably a glottening (partial thaw) yesterday as the sunshine was so lovely yesterday afternoon.   However, there just hasn't been enough for the children to make a hogamadog.

But maybe I am a flindriken myself for delighting in these words for I am a little light headed.  How about you?

 

Baby, it's cold outside!

 

Anyone been barflogging lately?  Not you?  No slapping your arms crosswise against your chest and shoulders to keep warm?  Or maybe you are into cuffing or beating your arms against your sides. 

It’s been distinctly chilly in my part of Lincolnshire but we haven’t had the snow other areas have had.  We had a covering which was gone in a few hours.  It’s been bad enough to clumse me (numb me with cold) if I were foolish enough to step outside.  I’m just not frigostable!  (Possibly you can work out that means unaffected by the cold.)

I’d need to degomble when I came in.  Ha, I’ll bet you didn’t know that word for cleaning the snow and mud off your shoes!  The surprising thing about it is that it is a twenty first century word, probably invented by scientists in the Antarctic.

 You may have gathered that I continue to enjoy the winter dictionary. 

Hibernaculum

 

A few days ago my "suggested reading" from Amazon included included "A Winter Dictionary" by Paul Anthony Jones.  I had a quick look and was hooked!  It's full of obscure words often with their origins in English Dialect, and all so descriptive.  (I found "Daft Days", which I wrote about here, in this book.)

I want a "hibernaculum"!  It's somewhere to retreat to during the long winter months.  It was used to describe soldiers' winter quarters, or a place for over-wintering plants, or the lair of a wintering animal.

In it I can "hiemate", which is a less sleepy activity than hibernation.  My home is "howffy": in other words it is cosy and comfortable and snug and I can "moble" or dress in multiple layers of clothing.

Anyone care to join me?