Giggling among the Snapdragons

Digital illustration: Exploding SnapdragonSo many real-world things have such fanciful names that it’s a pity we really don’t pay much attention to them very often. Magical, rollicking words and names just roll off our tongues like music, yet we fail to pause and marvel at the wonderfulness of the sounds or ideas contained therein. If we must talk and listen and cogitate, why not relish, too, the sheer flavorful euphony of the language in which we do it?

I know, even as someone who barely manages a few words and phrases in various other languages (most of these, not surprisingly, food-related), that each language has its own elements of amusement, astonishment and alchemy embedded amid the ordinary terms and concepts of everyday use.

In the vestibule is one of the most wonderful of places one can be, in my estimation; it’s not for any innate fineness or elegance or appeal the room itself may well have or that being in it might confer upon me, but rather for the arcane and esoteric quality of the very word Vestibule, which leaps from lip to tongue to tooth with alacrity and verve long since arrested in lesser words that we use too commonly. For the same reason, one should seek out Encumbrances and Perspicacity, Snapdragons and DoodlingΒ and Capybaras: no such thing as a mere dictionary can explain the depth of pleasure derived from slurping the juices of a luscious, under-exercised word.

15 thoughts on “Giggling among the Snapdragons

    • You know this better than most, O Thou of the Thousand Bon Mots! I love the way you play with and stretch words in your work!!! Even when you’re on serious topics, sometimes the incredibly apropos yet unexpected juxtapositions you manage make me shiver with delight. You have my admiration!!

  1. I recently visited a place named Thrupp. if you were lip reading me you would think the place was named Thruppee as I still can’t say the word without it ending in a smile. πŸ˜€

    • No kidding! What a great name. Makes me wonder, suddenly, what people might think I was saying if they lip-read me when I said the name of the town where I spent most of my youth: Puyallup (pronounced pew-AL-upp, and named after the local tribe). Another wonderfully goofy sounding name, if you ask me. Now I think I have to find my way to Thrupp, too! πŸ˜€

  2. I, too, lived in Puyallup for a season. Perhaps that experience gave us the perspicacity to marvel at snapdragons, while doodling sketches of our capybara; a beloved pet, not an encumbrance. I love the joy we find in words!

      • We had lived in University Place, and sold our house to move to California for a new job. We moved to Puyallup in the interim; it was 1977. I loved it there, and still miss Doing The Puyallup every year. Best fair, ever!

  3. We love snapdragons at our house. Always there are clusters planted among the saskatoon bushes or daylillies or wherever else there’s room. We have been planting them for so long that we always get at least one surprise snapdragon that pops up late in the season from self-seed or not-quite-frozen roots behind the corn stalks or between the rose canes. I love their mischievous grinning mouths. πŸ™‚

    • Anyone who’s as great with kidlets as you are would, of course, appreciate those adorable little dragons! I still get a kick out of making their fangs move, when I get the chance. (((((Hugs to you and the crew!!!)))))

    • Thank you, Sara, for your kindness! It’s no wonder you have been named a Liebster laureate. I must respectfully decline, having ‘closed’ my awards collection here: as genuinely inspiring and supportive as the interactions have been when I was participating in the process, I’ve simply gotten a bit too short on time to give the acceptance and nomination posts the detailed attention they deserve and now spend that on my ever-increasing comment correspondence here and at fellow bloggers’ places. Many, many thanks for your generous nomination!
      PSβ€”Happy capybaras to you! πŸ˜‰

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s