The Nature of Words

Reduction of natural resource-related words in the Oxford Junior dictionary.

While reading the "The Hour of Land: A Personal Topography of America's National Parks" by Terry Tempest Williams, I learned about a list of nature-related words removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary. After reading the passage, I imagined the lost words, following their sudden eviction gathering under the boughs of their fellow lost-word 'willow.' Waiting, for the etymological storm to pass. Willow also assured the other words that they were not lost. Oxford, it seems forgot that the modern additions to the dictionary need the companionship of the lost words. With the exception of 'bacon,' and 'diesel."

The Lost Words:

The modern additions:

The lost words and the modern additions are yet another harbingers of children's disconnect from the natural world. Learning of their omission from the dictionary was unsettling as the wan, slightly chubby, young neighbor who passed out fliers about his lost drone, a few days past Christmas. He referred to himself on the flier, as a 'very sad boy.' Observing the stack of fliers clutched in his hands, I silently wondered if he had a dog. Because if he did, he would feel better if he forgot about the drone, grabbed a water bottle, and pooh-bags, and went on a hike at a nearby state park, called Snow Canyon.

They could walk together on the West Canyon Trail past eolian-weathered sandstone. His ears could listen to the delicate jangle of dog-tag melody, instead of the strident, obnoxious buzz of his drone. And when his mind relaxed and imagination stepped in, perhaps he would begin to see the shapes of some of the lost words: acorn, adder, almond, ash, ass, beaver, or beech. Their images are playfully expressed in the layers of sandstone and folds of lava fields. Instead of following the shape of the whining, metallic shape, slashing through the azure-tinted skies.

I had a hard time smiling at this child because I knew that if I had seen it whizzing overhead, I would have wished for its quick, fiery demise. On the gentler side, I wanted to hand him the smooth weight of a dog leash, and state: "Watch your dog's ears lift when he catches sight of a rabbit, quail." Before adding, "And maybe afterward jump on your bicycle and try to follow the ravens that fly from Snow Canyon to the dry banks of the Santa Clara River." I didn't, unfortunately, say any of that. I only said, "If I find it, I'll let you know."

My silence is my regret, because later when I personally experienced the use of a drone within the unparalleled stillness of Snow Canyon by an entitled visitor, I understood more clearly, how it is our responsibility to share nature with each other. Regardless of the recipient's age. Because the alternative is a continued irretrievable loss for everyone.As Henry David Thoreau asked in Walden,

“Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself?” Henry David Thoreau

The lost words are intelligence that our children and greater community seem to be losing. If we don't have the words, then how will we have a feeling or connection? Imagine the world without the juicy, aromatic pleasure of a ripened blackberry, freshly picked from a prickly branch. Or any other experiences derived from these misplaced words waiting to be retrieved from under the protection of shaking willow boughs. Clearly, the editors were unaware their actions were indeed a 'cautionary tale.' And that we live in an 'interdependent' world.

Excerpt from: Ten Thousand Grains of Sand. Please do not copy or reproduce without written permission from S.Goldberry.