The view from Temperance Street, St. John's in the winter long ago. Image reproduced by permission of the Digital Archives Initiative (http://collections.mun.ca/u?/arch_geog,2735), Memorial University, St. John's, NL.

Before the celebration ensues, though, come another three or four months of winter. This year there is a nasty rumour flying around the streets of St. John’s that the Province is in for a long cold winter. Since the 8-foot snow banks of the bone-chilling winter in 2001, the winters have been milder, without as much snow as some of you might remember from childhood. So far, the keen or cold, crisp and clear weather, storms and blizzards have stayed away for the most part, but when the winter winds start faffering and it’s “[c]old enough to freeze ice-candles [or icicles] on your liver”, you might be sprayed and bazzom meaning chapped and blue. This month, Twig’s focus is on how to stay warm in the treacherous conditions that will surely materialize. Aside from working up a sweat shovelling or sitting by the fire, Newfoundlanders and Labradorians have many words to talk about the cold as was covered in last December’s blog and they also have a lexicon for how to beat the cold.

Word-file for 'ice candles'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Word-file for 'bazzom' from an interview with a speaker from Bay Roberts. 'EDD' is the English Dialect Dictionary and 'Dev.' refers to Devon. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

There is a saying that goes ‘If you don’t like the weather here, wait five minutes’. Dressing for the ever-changing weather entails layering and then layering some more. In the winter months, these layers might include a good lot of arse bags, or ample underclothes, as a foundation on which to build. Some days, though, the cold is enough to clip you and no matter how prepared you think you are, you’ll need to get a warm.

'Clip' word-file from an interview with a speaker from Shoe Cove Brook in 1967. Notice the confusion as to what the meaning of 'clip' is. We now know that the intended meaning is 'to freeze'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

It is no secret that the temperature tends to plummet overnight and this may make it difficult to stay warm. Can you imagine not having a nice warm bed to curl up in when you come in from the cold for a good night’s rest? Well, explorers, hunters, trappers and so on did not always have that warm bed so they would  sleep on the floor in their clothes, known as sleeping in puppy’s parlour.

Word-file for 'puppy's parlour'. Dr. Kirwin's note reads "copies Cartwright". Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Unfortunately, having a bed to sleep in might not bring much warmth on the bitterest nights when the best indoor heating system can’t take the chill out of the air. On these occasions, you might consider using a lap rock a while before you call it a night.

This card is filed under 'bed' in the DNE lexical file but you can see that a 'bed rock' is synonymous with 'lap rock'. Both are listed separately in the DNE with no reference to the other. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

If you lived on the west coast of the island, mill blankets served to provide a little added warmth through the night.

'Mill' word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Withdrawn word-file for 'Grand Falls blanket'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Staying warm at sea or on the ice could be a matter of life or death. On fishing vessels, a stove used for heating was called a bogie (with variants bogey and bogy). Typical seafaring clothing might include a monkey jacket or cassock. Ganseys are heavy wool sweaters that were also common attire at sea. At sea or on the ice, fishermen and sealers would wear nailbag ganseys.

Word-file for 'monkey-pea', which does not appear in the DNE but has been filed in the withdrawn cards. The last citation from Smyth reads "Monkey-jacket - a warm jacket for night-watches". Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Word-file for 'cassock'. Only the first bit of this card pertaining to OED usage of the item was used in the creation of the DNE Supplement. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Word-file for 'nailbag'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

In Labrador especially, you might want to find an adikey made of either seal skin or cloth to keep out the blistering northern temperatures. This term is linked to cassock in the DNE. Interestingly, the term cassock can refer to a loose fitting garment made of animal skin or ship’s canvas worn by the Beothuk (sense 1), a pull-over garment with a hood of the same materials worn by the Labrador Inuit (sense 2) or a garment worn over the head and shoulders in winter (sense 3) . The OED defines cassock as a long loose coat worn by “rustics [and] sailors”.

'Adikey' word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

While many of you might be familiar with the sou’wester, what about the north-wester designed for severe weather conditions? Little flaps of flannel known as pinovers were sometimes fastened to the sides of the north-wester to protect the nose and chin from the frosty air.

Word-file for 'North-wester'. Although this card is not marked with 'DNE-cit' (indicating its use in the DNE), the first part of the quotation up to "chin" was published in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another type of cap worn in the winter is the elsinore with two ear flaps and strings that is typically crafted from leather.

Word-file for 'elsinor'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Some of you might have heard the phrase “button up your craw”. In local usage, craw refers to the breastbone area but the OED lists variants from English and other languages that refer to the throat or the stomach. You might also cover up your craw with a cloud or a cravat.

'Cloud' word-file. Meaning: a very large scarf used when weather is very cold or strong. Sentence: Wrap this cloud around you to cover up your head. A 'cloud' was typically worn by a woman. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

On your feet, chances are you’ll want a nice warm pair of wool socks. A hoggelly bog could be worn over the socks.

Word-file for 'hoggelly bog'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Moving on from winter-wear, warm drinks can be taken to beat the cold but alcoholic beverages can also help warm the insides as well. One such beverage, callibogus, has been noted in Eastern North America since at least the 16^th century and was added to hotel menus in Newfoundland in the mid 1960s.

Word-file for 'callibogus'. Editor Dr. Kirwin has made a note about another potential source that would list 'talabogus'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

In the early morning, when the woodstove dies down, you’ll likely be tissy or tished. In its first sense, tissy means angry or irritable. The second sense means strikingly cold. If you wake up to a depleted heat source on a cold Newfoundland winter morning, you’ll likely be both senses at once. To get the fire going again, make sure you have lots of bavins, chovies, and splits on hand.

Word-file for 'bavin'. This is a group of words for 'kindling' that have been noted in local usage. Perhaps the act or art of making fire warrants its own blog entry. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Nowadays, it’s easy to take winter shelter for granted where housing innovations allow even seaside homes to remain relatively unaffected by the Atlantic gusts. In days gone by, families and even communities of people who inhabited deforested areas like the coastline would pull up stakes and build winter shacks just to survive the winter. These winter houses were typically inland and were sometimes built with logs and moss, alternatively called tilts by some informants. Although not as common today in Newfoundland and Labrador, many cultures worldwide still practice seasonal migration (called transhumance in scholarly literature). Winterhousing, a modern term, is not specifically covered in the DNE but has been discussed at length by Anthropologist Philip E. L. Smith.

'Winter' word-file. Although this card was not cited in the DNE, this person, interviewed in 1962, gives a good description of what a winter house may have looked like. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Most likely you do not have to move house and home to make it through the winter but what do you do to avoid becoming hard afrore with the cold? Do you go into hibernation mode or are you prepared to meet the winter weather head on? Whatever you do this winter, make sure you stay warm!

Christmas is just around the corner and another year is almost done. The impending winter blizzards seem to be holding off for now, yet every second person seems to be down with some kind of sickness. Winter is here with a multitude of nasty cold and flu bugs in tow. While it’s not all bad nestled under a mountain of blankets with hot water or salt water rocks, a good book or movie and enough cough syrup to knock out a horse, you may find yourself combing through books or searching the internet looking for alternative remedies hoping for that cure-all to bring you back to the land of the living.  The title of this post comes from The Change Islands Play c. 1900 (Christmas Mumming in Newfoundland, Halpert & Story, 1990) but this post is not about Christmas, about which you may well have heard enough already. Instead, it centers on medicine and folk-remedies in the DNE and there are quite a few relevant quotations. So, if you think you’re looking angish, feeling logy, pretty rough (sense 2) or if you’ve got a rattle on the stomach, read on and you might be surprised by how various maladies were treated and perhaps still are in Newfoundland and Labrador.

In the November post about tea, the focus was on the importance of tea in Newfoundland culture but its medicinal value was for the most part left untouched. You can make a ‘tea’ out of pretty much anything. Perhaps the ease with which one can boil water mixed with some medicinal ingredients is one of the reasons for the popularity of tea as a home remedy.

Labrador tea, otherwise known as Indian tea or country tea, has been long used as a tea substitute but can also be used to make a poultice for chills. This plant is said to possess narcotic properties and can cause cramps but has still been used medicinally for generations.

Touted as pure medicine for bad colds that might have gone straight to your chest and other illness, juniper tea was made by steeping juniper bark and was then drunk. Juniper salve might be used for frostbite and sores.

For relief of sore throats or chest congestion when you’re feeling all snowchy or stogged up, some folks may add a little (or a lot) of sagwa to a cup of tea. At sea, the same substance might be referred to as sea stock. If you’re looking for something without alcohol, try berryocky (to which rum could be added!).

For a stubborn cough you might also steep some snakeroot, or tansy leaves. Such remedies may help with glander. While you’ve very likely seen yellow pond lilies in the province, you may not know that they are also referred to as poppies and that the steam from boiling water with poppy added to it can be inhaled for headaches and sinus problems.

It should be noted that tansy has numerous applications; it was used as a deterrent for fleas and other insects as well as a cure for snow-blindness, swelling, bad kidneys, boils, sore throat, bathing wounds, headaches and perhaps more than are documented in the DNE research materials.

Other remedies for a chest cold or cough formerly included kerosene as an ingredient. One such recipe was “Minard’s linament, [with] a mixture of kerosene oil and olive oil, applied to the chest.  The chest was then covered with red flannel.” Many of you are familiar with Purity Molasses Kisses but the recipe for lassie candy below might not be the best treat.

One of the least pleasant remedies noted by the DNE is beaver’s pride, used for backache, relief of stopped water and for male potency. The pride would be steeped and then the liquid was drunk. Another remedy that you wouldn’t want to try unless you were at your absolute wit’s end is saffron.

Although it’s not clear how popular some of the more distasteful teas and remedies might have been, Crellin (Home Remedies, 1994) suggests that many were used in Newfoundland even up until the 1930s.  Some of these teas really do not seem pleasant but people did drink them.

Given the rural nature of the geography of Newfoundland, it is a small wonder that home remedies were heavily relied upon. It would be costly and difficult to go to the doctor for every little ache and pain. If you did have to go to the doctor or hospital, and lived in the outports, you might have been transported in a woman box or a coach box. While there were midwives and sometimes doctors travelling through the area, the health care situation in Newfoundland, for the early part of the 20th century at least, was very trying. Nowadays, many people will go to the doctor if they’re mops and brooms. Interestingly, one Newfoundland English sense of the word ‘doctor’ is synonymous with wizard.

Cod-liver oil is well-known throughout the province and has been the subject of various songs. But, did you know that cod livers could be baked and eaten by fishermen as a cure for night blindness?  This ‘cure’ is found at scotch dumpling in the DNE. Seal livers could also be eaten or a rosemary-infused drink could be consumed if you were ill.

For easing asthma or curing a fever, the DNE cites several sources claiming that polly pitchum, or lichen from a rock, was helpful. Additionally, juniper tea was said to be medicinal for either water trouble or for new mothers.

Sometimes, illness will rob you of your appetite and you might find yourself becoming a skiver (sense 4) or as thin as the rames. One traditional remedy for a lost appetite was a tonic made from elder berries, juniper bush, beaver roots (water lily), bog beans, sweet mores, sarsaparilla roots and Indian tea, all steeped together. The person would take two spoonfuls before each meal. Bog beans were also used to cure colds.

There are other folk remedies in the DNE that are not related to coughs, colds and general winter illnesses. Molasses, for example, is an important ingredient to several folk remedies found in the DNE. As a topical treatment, a small amount or sign (sense 3) of soft soap and black molasses may be applied to boils. What you may know as ‘thrush’ used to be called white mouth and a simple cure was to put molasses on the tongue. Myrrh, or turpentine, is said to have healing properties and there are numerous attestations in the DNE for its use in healing wounds when mixed with molasses.

Here are several other folk remedies included in the DNE:

For warts, you could try fasting spittle or fatback pork.
For a toothache, you might try a charm in the form of a pratie rock.
For piles, you could avail of dead-man’s daisy, otherwise known as yarrow.
For boils or sores, you could try dock roots or boiling elder-blossom.
Closely related to the elder-blossom is eltrot, from which a poultice can be made for a headache.
For a fever or an ear ache, you could put a warm fig in the ear.

So, the next time you find yourself at the pharmacy, mesmerized by the many options to cure what ails you, take a minute to reflect on this relatively modern state of affairs. You could be out in the winter winds draining fir tree bladders, or perhaps you might prefer this to a doctor’s prescription. If you know of a remedy or cure that has been passed down in your family, please feel free to share it in the comments section.

Have a healthy and wonderful holiday season!

Word file for 'tea' that was not used in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another word file for 'tea', again, not used in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

It’s worth noting that a simple search for either ‘tea’ or ‘kettle’ in the DNE will return more than 80 results for entries mentioning one or both of these words, solidifying the popular notion of the importance of tea in Newfoundland and Labrador culture. Hilda Murray notes that, for Newfoundlanders, there were four meals in the winter “…breakfast, dinner, tea, and a ‘mug-up’ or ‘lunch’ before bedtime [that] were standard in most homes” (The Traditional Role of Women in a Newfoundland Fishing Community, 1972, p. 215), giving tea a special meal status. This usage of tea in reference to a meal is powerfully associated with residents of the U. K.  According to the Evening Telegram, “it is the traditional right of Newfoundlanders to stop along the roadside, to boil the kettle” (1982, Jan 26, p. 6); tea seems to have become entrenched in our cultural identity.  Taking a peek inside Reminiscences by James P. Howley, who claims tea to be a “regular essential” (p. 683), one will find 159 occurrences of the word ‘tea’. Many of these usages are in reflection on sitting down to tea with new acquaintances but several passages, like the one below, illustrate how much better your day can be with the simple addition of a good cup of tea.

At length we came to where they had cut a portage. We landed here and went ahead on foot. I would have given a good deal now for a cup of tea and having given expression to that desire, Mister Joe took a small kettle of his out of the canoe, filled it and having lit a fire put it on to boil. “What is that for, Joe,” I asked, “what are you going to put in it?” He produced a dirty cotton handkerchief from his pocket with something tied up in one corner. Then with a peculiarly knowing grin, he said, “I got a pinch of tay here,” sure enough he had. It immediately became quite apparent to me that all this time while we were without that fragrant beverage Mr. Joe had appropriated a stock for his own use before our supply became exhausted. I felt pretty mad at this, nevertheless when in a few minutes he put it on the kettle & helped me to a cup I forgave him. It proved indeed very refreshing. (Howley, 2009, p. 958)

Tea is on the front lines against whatever ails you, whether it’s the weather or illness getting you down, or even if you’re just feeling a bit leary.

'Leary' word file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Enjoying a well-established reputation world-wide, tea has a stronghold in Chinese, Japanese, British and American histories among others. The 1937 Royal Commission Report lists tea at 40c. per pound, a far cry from prices paid today for a good brew. Having been around for thousands of years, tea is involved in maintaining class boundaries in some cases and starting wars in others but, more innocently, that nice cup of black, green, oolong or herbal tea can help take the edge off a biting wind or help us to relax after a long day. So, let’s look at some of the interesting Newfoundland English words related to tea.

Now, before getting to that blissful first sip or even the steeping routine, the water will need to be boiled and for that you’ll need a kettle. There are several words in the DNE denoting a kettle. You might not expect slut to serve this function but it refers to a kettle which is also known as a bib(by), hurry-up, piper or smut,  particularly for making tea over the open fire in the woods. There are also the hot arse, boiler, pompey, Wesleyan kettle and the quick.

One of various word files for 'slut'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Citation for 'bibby'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John's, NL.

Once the water is boiled and you’re ready to steep, you’ll need to choose a cup or a mug. Some prefer their tea in a big clay mug similar to the dolly vardens used by fishermen.

Word file for 'dolly varden'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

If you have a bit of a sweet-tooth, your favorite tea may be ­sugar tea, simply meaning tea that is sweetened with sugar rather than old-fashioned molasses. Some folks take tinned milk like Carnation, others take milk or cream but some like it stark-naked.

Word file for 'sugar tea'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

All of these options result in a perfectly acceptable cup of tea; even molasses tea could be good, as long as it’s not breachy or fousty, either of which it might be if you use salty water or don’t clean your piper well enough.

Word-file for 'breachy'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John's, NL.

Word file for 'fousty'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Most people would probably not be fussy about hay-water or most of the variations listed in the DNE for switchel. While they may do in a pinch, somewhere in the middle might be best especially if you’re serving the tea to company!

'Switchel' word file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Of course, there are lots of foods that go well with tea. The first things that might come to mind are tea buns or cakes like a bottomer or a duncher. Maybe you would call a combination of tea and biscuits a levener or a fourer. Whatever time of day you choose to have a boil-up, you sure can’t go wrong with a bit of chaw and glutch. For a simpler variation, perhaps you would enjoy bare-legged tea once in a while, especially if it’s just to warm up.

'Duncher' word file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

Word- file for 'bottomer'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John's, NL.

Some people have a tendency to put on some tea and go off, busying themselves with some other chore and forget that the tea is steeping. When the memory of that lonesome cup or tea-pot sitting on the counter finally resurfaces, the tea is often too strong. If you find yourself in this situation, don’t worry, all you need to do is vamp it down.

Word file for 'vamp'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Once you have prepared your perfect cup of tea, you may find it pleasing to inhale the vapors and if you’re stuffed up at all, this will help to make you feel better. Then, of course, you drink it and appreciate its warmth and overall goodness. After you’ve finished, most teas (both bagged and loose) can be composted where, in the past, they may have been tossed in the dung sink.

Word file for head word 'dung'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

If some day you are lucky and you get close enough to an ice berg to chip off a part of it, you can treat you and yours to a spot of pinnacle tea which is tea brewed at sea from ice taken from an iceberg. Wherever you go, though, if you’re a tea-drinker, just make sure you’ve got all the riggings for the kettle.

Word file for 'riggings'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

While this last variation may not be a Newfoundland tradition, it’s worth noting that regular orange pekoe steeped with a small amount of sage produces a fragrant and spicy cup of tea. It is enchantingly aromatic, especially when sweetened with honey. Maybe this was the motivation behind the addition of buds to tea in the past. Next time you’re feeling creative, try adding herbs and spices that you may not think would go with tea and chances are that you’ll be pleasantly surprised!

'Bud' word file. Although this card is not marked DNE-cit, it was cited in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

So the next time you have a visitor coming over for a tea and a chat, tell them that you’ve got to storm the kettle to make a bit of slut tea and see if they have different vocabulary for talking about tea. While you’re here reading this entry, what’s your favorite cup of tea. Do you have any special tea-terms to add? Do you use any of the words above? It would be delightful to hear from you.

'Storm' word file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

A beautiful autumn scene in Newfoundland. Photo of fall in Ganny Cove courtesy of Philip Hiscock.

Yes, I know. “Is it almost November already?” is the indignant cry as the shelves at our local stores fill up with Christmas stock. The children are deep in the throes of the   school year, post-secondary students have already finished mid-term break, the animals are building up their king hair for the winter and very soon we will fall back into darkness with the hope of re-emerging with all our faculties next spring.

King hair word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

I’m an autumn baby and I love the fall season. Leaves are turning their brilliant hues, falling to the ground and crunching underfoot and the air is full of the smell of ripening fruits and damp grass, still crunchy from the morning frost. Dawn and dusk bring that raw, crisp, invigorating chill that leaves one eagerly anticipating your hats, scarves and finger or trigger mitts and that first cozy mug up curled up by the roaring fireplace.

Triger mitt word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL

For some, autumn is a time to start preparing for hibernation, it’s the time of year when energy dissipates and we reminisce about or perhaps even mourn the summer days now passed. For others, it is a time of hard work what with the harvest and woodcutting to be done; time to start planning for the winter and even next spring and summer when old Mother Nature will hopefully be much kinder to our crops.

In years gone by, many Newfoundlanders and Labradorians would have experienced the fall of the year very differently.  Some of us are too young to remember that time, long ago, when the fishery was in full swing. Prior to the dreaded cod moratorium in 1992, when March to September was fishing season, fall importantly marked the start of the fall fishery for fishermen throughout the province when the cod or fall fish were big and fat.

Fall fishery word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Fall fish word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

These days, we have the food fishery (cited in Strowbridge, Newfoundland Tongue, 2008, p. 115), often called the “recreational groundfish fishery” by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans and news sources like the Telegram. The fall fishery, once a great tradition and an important part of the livelihoods of many Newfoundlanders and Labradorians, has now been reduced to about a week on the water (September 24-October 2 this year), with a daily catch limit of 15 groundfish per boat of three or more people. It’s still an open wound that may never heal for many fisherpeople of the province. Visit the Heritage website or CBC archives for numerous stories on the impact of the collapse of the cod fishery.

Spring and summer fishing was largely done by trapping, but fall fishing, according to the 1933 Nfld Royal Commission Report was done by fishermen in an open boat like a dory, skiff or a motorboat with bultows, or long buoyed lines with baited hooks set at close intervals in the sea-flow. Some residents who weren’t lucky enough to have a boat went out on a flat or rodney, canoe or kayak.

Flat word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

As anyone who has lived in Newfoundland and Labrador knows, the weather on the open water is unpredictable all the time, but it is markedly stormier in the fall. Fish swim further off shore in this season too. Both of these factors force fishermen to put away their cod-traps till the spring of the year. Fall fishing was the time you could catch the best cod but even when cod-stocks were good, you mightn’t have a good season. From the point of view of a fisherman, there were two seasons: the caplin scull (earlier in the year) and the fall fishery. Reflections from fishermen in the 1960s indicate that one or the other season was good to you; you typically didn’t get a good haul out of both. To save one’s spring meant to end off the fishing season with a moderate profit.

Word-file for caplin scull. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Late fall brought the fall run or autumn seal migration from around November 20-December 10 but the fall trip or the fall voyage brought bankers (see sense 2) offshore. This would be their last chance to fish before the making of ice.

Word-file illustrating what 'making of ice' meant to the fishery. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Many fishermen went into the fall fishery hoping they would get enough fish to sell so they could get their stamps. In days gone by, sometimes fishermen would be given liver notes instead of money. They could use these as currency.

What could 'liver notes' buy us today? Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Finally, at the end of the fishing season, there was the fisherman’s holiday. This holiday also marked the exodus of the migratory British fishing vessels moored in our harbours all summer long. At the end of the season, once the fishing, processing and selling was done, it was time to break collar or come to the end of the employment period.

Today it seems like everything we put into our bodies comes from some grand warehouse or factory somewhere upalong where every morsel has been processed over and over before making the long journey from where it came to our rock in the Atlantic. Sometimes we forget that it wasn’t always this way; not so long ago, we couldn’t jump in the car and go to the nearest grocery store for any little thing that we might fancy.

Word-file for 'upalong'. Note the use of verbal -s on this card, still a prevalent feature in Newfoundland English. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

During the Newfoundland fall, land, sky and sea were ripe for the harvest. On the land, vegetable gardens and fruit trees excelled despite the rocky soil. Numerous species of beautiful birds like the Eskimo curlew chirped and sang overhead as they started out on their migratory path or started in on the new supply of seed and suet in the birdfeeder. On the water, fish and seals were big and fat from their summer gorging, chock-full of healthy oils like cod liver oil. As we enter this season with all its bounty, let us remember not only where we’re going, but also where we’ve been.

A dumbledore on a sunflower. Photo courtesy of Phillip Cairns.

Virtually limitless in colour, shape, and behaviour, insects are more diverse and numerous than any other animal group on the planet. They’ve also been here far longer than most, with fossils dating back to 400 million years ago. Before humans, before even the dinosaurs, there were insects. Time has treated them well – experts peg their numbers at around 10 quintillion (that’s one 10 followed by 18 zeroes), and say they inhabit almost every environment on Earth, perfectly evolved to exploit the plant and other resources nature provides. Some evolutionary biologists call our modern era “the age of the insect.”

Summer is certainly the season of the insect. Winter now over, they’re emerging from eggs, cocoons, nests, and burrows to snack on leaves and nectar. They’re pollinating newly opened flowers and felling lettuce sprouts like trees. Since childhood, insects have inspired in us a whole range of reactions, from fascination to fear; this is reflected in our regional vocabularies.

A familiar insect is the bumble bee, known as a dumbledore, busywop, or busy bee in the Dictionary of Newfoundland English. The first term is not unique to the province and appears to have originated in southwest England. The Oxford English Dictionary defines dumbledore as ‘a humble-bee or bumble-bee’ and its earliest documented use of the word is from 1787. It was likely brought here by English settlers in the 18^th or 19^th centuries.

Dumbledore word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Busy bee is a widespread term, but busywop may be unique to Newfoundland and Labrador. It was likely derived from wop, a word form of wasp in both the OED and English Dialect Dictionary. Like dumbledore, wop is of English origin; neither word is used very much in Newfoundland and Labrador today.

Bees are prolific pollinators and their close relationship with flowers is noted in our language. One example is the bumblebee flower, otherwise known as the dandelion. The term, however, is no longer in widespread use and the only evidence that exists for it in the DNE and its lexical files comes from oral evidence collected in the 1960s and 70s.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another common pollinator that enters our gardens and therefore our vocabulary is the butterfly, or pitchy-paw according to the DNE. The word appears to be unique to the province, although the English Dialect Dictionary reports in its entry for pitch v¹ 2 (5) that pitch, butterfly, from southwest England, is ‘an invocation by which children hope to catch a butterfly’. Also of English origin is pitch-poll, which the EDD defines as ‘to turn head over heels’.

A word-file for pitchie paw (also spelled pitchy-paw) from the DNE Collection. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Moths fly under a few names in the DNE, including lamp-lighter, Johnny Miller, and dows’y poll.  All three appear to have originated in England and were likely brought here by settlers in the 18^th or 19^th centuries. Dows’y poll may be a variation of dusty poll or dowsty poll, which the EDD defines as ‘a head covered with flour’, and provides the following quotation, from Devon, England: “Miller, O miller, O dowsty poll! How minny zacks hast thee a-stawl?”

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another insect name that appears to have migrated here from southwest England is God’s cow: a lady bug. As the following word-file suggests, some people here once believed the small spotted beetle could cure toothaches.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Not all words investigated by the DNE’s editors made it into the dictionary. An example is emmett (also spelled emmit), an ancient synonym of ‘ant’. The EDD reports that this word is in general dialect use in Scotland, Ireland, and England, and the earliest evidence that exists for it in the OED dates back to the ninth century (ca. 850). The DNE’s editors believed the word was too well-attested in other dictionaries to include it in theirs.

“Don't tread in the emmits' nest. Explanation - ant - there is several varieties. ( small black "emmits", large black ones, small red emmits and large red emmits and large black flying emmits and large red flying emmits)” Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Spiders and carpenters belong to the animal classes Arachnida and Malacostraca, respectively, and are therefore not insects. Taxonomic taboos aside, they certainly belong to the broader phylum of creepy crawlies and can be discussed here.

Carpenter is a well-known synonym for the wood louse. The earliest reference in the OED is from an 1883 edition of the British periodical Knowledge: An Illustrated Magazine of Science. A pronunciation and word-form that may be unique to the province is cafner. Boat-builder is another synonym; it is still used today, but is not as widespread as carpenter.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Traveller is a general word for ‘spider’ that appears in the DNE and may be unique to the province. The OED contains several different senses of traveller, but none refers to spiders; the same is true of the EDD. The term appears to be fairly obscure in Newfoundland; the word-files contain only a single reference to this sense of traveller, taken from an interview recorded in 1964.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Rain spider is a more well-known term and Googling it produces many results from around the world. There are seven word-files for rain spider in the DNE Collection, all of which record oral evidence collected from seven different communities in the 1970s. The dictionary defines it as a ‘type of spider which, if killed by a person, is thought to cause it to rain or otherwise bring misfortune.’ Another name is the bottle-arse spider.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Considering the chronic damp of the Newfoundland and Labrador spring and early summer, it may be in all our interests to treat these creatures well whenever we find them in our homes and gardens.

Large icebergs, ca. 1920. Reproduced by permission of the Maritime History Archive (PF-323.025), Memorial University.

Spring is the time of icebergs in Newfoundland and Labrador. Mammoth and majestic, they drift through our waters between March and July, although June is usually the best time to see them. Most started their journey about a year earlier, after breaking away from ancient Arctic glaciers off Greenland’s west coast. Their ice may be more than 10,000 years old, but the bergs begin to melt once they move into warmer waters; it will only take a year or two for them to disappear.

People come from all over the word to watch icebergs, a fascination they share with some of our earliest visitors. One of the oldest references to an iceberg in the Dictionary of Newfoundland English dates back to 1527, when English explorer John Rut wrote of “great Islands of ice” inhabiting our waters. The DNE lexical files indicate the phrase was still commonly used in some Newfoundland and Labrador communities by the second half of the 20^th century.

This quote from English explorer John Rut is likely the earliest reference to an iceberg in the Dictionary. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Iceberg watching is not the only way spring ice has contributed to our culture and economy. Historically, Newfoundlanders and Labradorians are a seafaring people; for centuries they have depended on the often icy waters of the North Atlantic to make a living. The annual spring seal hunt in particular brought people in close contact with a wide variety of sea ice.

Sealers on the ice by their ship, n.d. Reproduced by permission of Archives and Special Collections, Memorial University.

Since the 1790s, sealers have been sailing, and later steaming, to the floes off Newfoundland’s northeast coast to hunt harp seals. Understanding the different conditions they may encounter was a matter of life and death – both for the seamen who navigated through ice-filled waters and the hunters who spent hours on the floes in search of seals. It’s not surprising that there are many words in the DNE to describe sea ice.

Small icebergs are particularly dangerous. Rising only a few feet out of the water, they are difficult to see, yet powerful enough to punch a hole in a ship’s hull. Among the most notorious are growlers. The earliest recorded usage in the DNE is from 1865, and the word is still used today in both the province and around the world.

The earliest recorded reference to growlers in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Less well known are clumper, roller, and rolling pan. The first of these is likely from the Old English clympre for ‘lump or mass’. According to the English Dialect Dictionary, clumper was being used in southwest England by the mid-1800s, where it meant ‘a lump; a heavy clod of earth’. It was likely brought to Newfoundland and Labrador by English settlers later that century.

The DNE lists five senses: 1. a small iceberg; floating pan of ice; 2. a hummock of ice in an ice-field; 3. slab of ice forced up along the shoreline; formation of ice frozen on shore from action of waves and wind; 4. a small chunk of ice or snow; and 5. clumper-anchor: iron chain with ‘jigs’ protruding at intervals, used to moor a boat to a small iceberg.

From an interview recorded in 1964. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

A roller is ‘a small iceberg that tips over easily’. This sense of the word may have originated in Newfoundland – the DNE’s earliest (and only) recorded usage is found in Philip Tocque’s 1846 publication, Wandering Thoughts, or Solitary Hours. Tocque, a teacher and clergyman from Carbonear, wrote the book while living in Bird Island Cove, Trinity Bay. The Oxford English Dictionary contains many different senses of roller, but none refers to sea ice; the same is true of the English Dialect Dictionary and the Dictionary of Canadianisms.

Rolling pan is another term that may have originated here. It means a small iceberg rocking in the sea water and, like roller, does not to appear to have ever been in widespread use. The DNE and its lexical files record only two sources, one from 1842 and the other from 1966; both works were written on the island.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Sea ice, however, isn’t just something for ships to avoid – sometimes they have to maneuver right into it. Vessels engaged in the seal hunt had to penetrate the ice fields to find the herds. Once they did, captains ordered their crews overboard to bring back the pelts. In the 19^th and early-20^th centuries, sealers could spend up to twelve consecutive hours on the ice, often walking for miles over unstable ice pans. It makes sense that these men became known as ice-hunters and ice-masters – those who ventured into the floes had to be expert seamen, with expert knowledge of ice conditions.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

An entire vocabulary emerged around the hunt. Open your DNE to ice and you’ll find many terms: ice pilot, ice skipper, ice-master, ice captain, and ice-hunter all refer to sealers or the captains of sealing vessels. Once on the floes, sealers became an ice party, with each man carrying an ice pole (or gaff) to kill seals and help keep balance on unsteady ice pans. The hunt itself was ice-work or ice fishing, and the annual spring trip north an ice voyage, made aboard ice skiffs or ice boats.

Some of these terms, such as ice hunter, may have originated here, while others, such as ice pole and ice pilot, were also used in the Canadian North.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Harp seals give birth on relatively smooth pans of ice, which sealers have at various times called gardens, whelping ice, and seal meadows. These terms appear either to have originated here, or to be of special local significance. The Oxford English Dictionary (online, under meadow n.)  defines seal-meadows as ‘N. Amer. (chiefly Newfoundland). An area of sea ice on which seals haul out in large numbers. rare.’

Its entry for whelping ice cites three quotations, all from Newfoundland or Labrador. The Dictionary of Canadianisms also describes the phrase as a Newfoundland one. None of the OED’s many senses for garden refers to ice or seals, and the sense may be unique to the province, although not widespread. The DNE provides a single quotation, from the 1938 publication MacDermott of Fortune Bay, Told by Himself.

The Dictionary’s only quotation, and only word-file, for this sense of garden. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Those of us who inhabit gardens of a greener variety will likely not get to see glacial ice up close. But if you ever do find a small chunk floating close to shore, it may be worth your while to break off a piece. Once melted, it makes a lovely drink – either cold or boiled for a mug of pinnacle tea.

Pinnacle tea: ‘brewed at sea from melted fragments of glacial ice.’ Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Sometimes one pot isn't enough. Photo courtesy of H. Wareham.

Any mention of traditional Newfoundland and Labrador foods will likely bring to mind Jiggs’ dinner – a boiled feast of salt meat (usually beef or pork), cabbage, and other vegetables. Yet the phrase does not appear anywhere in the Dictionary of Newfoundland English. Of the approximately 100,000 word-files the editors compiled between the 1950s and early 1980s, only a few contain a reference to Jiggs’ dinner. It simply wasn’t widespread enough to be on their radar.

The name comes from an American comic strip called “Bringing up Father” that ran in newspapers from 1913 until 2000. Many readers called it “Maggie and Jiggs” after the cartoon’s two main characters. Jiggs was an American-Irish bricklayer who struck it rich after winning the lotto. His favourite meal was boiled corned beef and cabbage: Jiggs’ dinner. Barry Popik, contributor-consultant to the OED and other dictionaries, has traced the history of the meal in the United States on his website.

There are no specific entries for 'Jiggs’ dinner' in either the DNE lexical file or the Dictionary. This card is filed under 'Solomon Gosse'. The phrase 'Jiggs’ dinner' only came up rarely and inadvertently in any of the interviews or printed sources the editors used. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

In contrast is Solomon Gosse – a name for the boiled dinner that does appear in the DNE and is unique to the province. Some people here traditionally served Solomon Gosse on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. The weekly menu was not only followed in households, but by cooks on fishing and sealing vessels as well. P.K. Devine reports a possible origin for the term in his 1937 publication, Folk Lore of Newfoundland: “Tradition says that once the cook was persuaded to serve it on Wednesday and when asked for an explanation by the Planter said that the new hand compelled him to do so because … it was “Solomon Gosse’s Birthday”, the skipper of the cod seine crew. Hence the origin of the saying.” (page 73)

He goes on to write: “The result was that Solomon had too many birthdays in a summer and the saying therefore became a joke whenever a pork and duff dinner was served out of schedule. Solomon Gosse, as far as my enquiries can ascertain, was a Conception Bay man but his name and his fame were perpetuated by all the fishermen in Newfoundland from Cape Ray to Cape John.” Family Names of the Island of Newfoundland by E.R. Seary records that a Solomon Gosse did indeed live in Torbay in the 18^th century; two more of that name lived in Flatrock and Spaniard’s Bay in the 19^th century.

Recorded in 1969. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

The days that Solomon Gosse was served were known as Solomon Gosse’s birthday, pot day, and duff day. Pot day because everything was boiled in a single large pot, and duff day because the meal often included a boiled pudding for dessert called duff or figgy duff. It was made from flour, water, often raisins, and served with a sweet sauce called coady. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, duff was “originally a northern pronunciation of dough n.: compare enough.”

Submitted in 1971. “BOILED DUFF & COADY Flour, butter, sugar, baking powder, egg. Boiled in a bag or cloth. Served as a dessert (not on the plate with dinner), topped with COADY, a sauce made by boiling molasses (not maple syrup) to which one tbsp of butter and (sometimes) 1 drop of essence of peppermint have been added.” Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another boiled pudding made from split yellow peas is often included and is known as pease duff or pease pudding. The same kind of peas could be used to make pea soup, which was traditionally served on Saturday – a day once called the devil’s birthday in some Newfoundland communities.

From a 1971 interview. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Traditional Newfoundland and Labrador boiled dinners include a much wider range of vegetables than the Jiggs’ dinner of the comic strip. Potatoes, carrots, and turnip usually join cabbage and salt meat in the pot. These crops grow well in our acidic soils and cool climate, and store well over the fall and winter. Families often had to cultivate their own vegetables before large grocery stores opened in the second half of the 20^th century, so it makes sense that cabbage and hardy root vegetables have entered our diet.

Many of the words and phrases people once used to describe the various vegetable dishes they prepared are now obsolete. In the mood for a nice steaming bowl of blind mush? Then you’re eager for some cabbage soup. Add some salt meat and you’ve got a meal of mush. In this case, blind indicates a deficiency, making mush without meat blind mush.

Recorded in 1971. "Folk language "mush" This term refers to a soup made from salt beef, cabbage and other vegetables. Often soup was made from salt beef and vegetables when cabbage was added, it was called mush. Blind Mush was "Mush" without salt beef." (The last four words are written on the card’s reverse.) Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Perhaps some chum is more to your liking – over-boiled vegetables that have turned to pulp. Save the leftovers for the next day and you’ve got some chummy. A more recognizable term for a dish of leftovers is hash. Still popular today, this word is defined in the DNE as ‘Vegetables, esp potatoes, turnip, cabbage, left over from an earlier meal, chopped up and heated or browned.’

Reported in 1971. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Some people put a sod over their skillet of vegetables to give it more substance – this was a pastry made from flour and baking powder. Of course, many families were preparing to break a different kind of sod by the spring of each year, so they could plant the vegetable gardens and potato fields that would keep them in mush, chum, and boiled dinners for the next 12 months.

Recorded in 1971. “Sod: Pastry made from flour, baking powder, etc and laid over steaming vegetables in a skillet – a thick, fluffy pastry, unlike the thin, brittle pastry for pies. Probably gets its name because of its thickness (1/2”-1”) and the fact that it covers the vegetable stew entirely.” Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Snowflake photo by Wilson Bentley circa 1902. Bentley was one of the first known photographers of snowflakes. For more information, visit: http://snowflakebentley.com/WBsnowflakes.htm

Individually, snowflakes can beguile. Fragile, fractal-like, and ephemeral, they fall in an infinite variety of shapes. Gentle flurries are best, and best enjoyed on still evenings when big fluffy flakes slowly drift through the air before alighting on the ground and, importantly, melting a few minutes later. It’s when they loiter about that they become irritating. Few people want to wake up to the great maddening crowd of snowflakes camped out in their driveways and hogging the sidewalks to boot.

Snow makes getting around more difficult, but it sure makes small talk easy – and has been doing so for generations. The Dictionary of Newfoundland English contains many words that describe the different kinds of snow and snowfalls we get. Blossom is a lovely word for the big beautiful snowflakes that fall in mild winter weather. The word captures the prettiness of this type of snow and our enjoyment of it. In contrast is cruddy or crudly snow – the kind that has stayed around far too long and now crunches underfoot.

From an interview recorded in 1967. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Recorded in 1966. 'Cruddley snow' here, the phrase may also be spelled 'cruddy snow' and 'crudly snow'. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Blossoms of snow usually fall in a flurry or gust, known as a dwy or scad. A dwy may refer to a rain shower as well, while scad may also mean a ‘thin layer of snow on the ground’. Both words are of British origin and came here from southwest England, likely by settlers and migratory fishers who regularly travelled to Newfoundland and Labrador between the 17^th and 19^th centuries.

Dwy has several variant spellings in the DNE: dwey, dwigh, dwoi, dwoy, dwye, and dwie, which is shown on this word-file. GMS are the initials for DNE editor George Morley Story. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

But it isn’t all blossoms and dwies in the wintertime. We also get blizzards and screechers: horrible howling storms. Like irritating partygoers, a few snowstorms arrive late every year, usually in mid-March or April, long after their novelty has worn off. The DNE lists two names for straggler snowstorms: Sheila’s brush and Patrick’s brush. The latter is rarely used in conversation today, although the former is common. Both refer to storms that happen on or near St. Patrick’s Day.

According to the Dictionary, Sheila was the ‘wife, sister, housekeeper or acquaintance of St. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland’. The word brush may be from the British dialect word brash, which means a ‘sudden gust of wind, a spell of wet weather; a [snow] storm’.

A word-file for Sheila's Brush from the ELRC's DNE Collection. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

When the storms are over we are left with a batch of snow to clear away. Wintertime shoveling is a provincial sport in Newfoundland and Labrador – it is part of our heritage and therefore part of our language. Those large blocks of snow we carve out with our shovels and heave into the far corners of our driveways are called bumpers. The Oxford English Dictionary defines bumper as slang for ‘anything unusually large or abundant’.

Bumper has four senses in the DNE: 1. a large mass or chunk of snow; 2. in sledding, a hump followed by a sudden dip; 3. home-grown potato of inferior quality; and 4. a fishing season, vessel, or voyage that resulted in a full catch or load.

Recorded in 1973: “JUST LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THOSE BUMPERS” “Bumpers are the large blocks of snow seen when shovelling. The size of the bumpers depends on the person who is shovelling the snow and the weight of the snow itself – how much weight he can carry on the shovel & if the snow doesn’t fall off.” Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Walking around in a batch of snow can be fun, especially if you have snowshoes, but there are dangers to watch out for. Beware of rot holes: soft places in ice or snow that are hazardous to tread on. This phrase appears to have originated here – there is no entry in the OED and the earliest quote in the DNE is from a 1924 publication about the Newfoundland seal hunt.

The earliest quote for rot hole that appears in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Step in a rot hole and you might get stogged – this word originated in southwest England and means ‘to be stuck in boggy ground or snow’; it was likely brought here by English settlers in the 19^th century. The DNE lists three other senses for stog: ‘to insulate a house’, ‘to block or clog an aperture’, and ‘to fill completely’.

Recorded in 1964 and reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

As the seasons change, batches melt and leave behind a soft and slushy substance, known as rotten snow in the DNE. This, of course, may not happen until late spring or even early summer in Newfoundland and Labrador. If there is a flurry in May, consider catching some snow and bringing it indoors to melt. The resulting liquid is called May water and, as the word-file below explains, was once believed by some people here to have medicinal qualities.

From a 1971 interview. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

However, let us hope that by May we will be using spades instead of shovels and that blossoms of snow will have given way to more colourful perennials – the lovely crocuses, tulips, and daffodils of early spring.

A word-file for scravel day, recorded in 1970. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Today, many of us return to the same jobs in the winter that we have in the fall, summer, and spring. But this was not always the case. For generations, and particularly before the industrialization of the 1950s, many people in Newfoundland and Labrador had to engage in a variety of jobs to make a year-round living. Traditional work varied from season to season and was often outdoors.

Catching and curing fish were the major summer occupations, while vegetable gardening and berry picking were also important activities. None of this was possible in the colder months, when families had to engage in other activities to secure food, fuel, and some income. Chief among these were woodcutting and trapping. Alongside contributing to the traditional household economy, these activities also added to the Newfoundland and Labrador vocabulary.

Woodcutting alone has provided us with a wealth of words. This is perhaps not surprising since wood was the main fuel many families used to heat their homes and cook their food, especially in rural areas. There are many entries in the DNE that describe the different kinds of logs, twigs, and boughs that people stockpiled. A nug, for example, is ‘a chunk of wood cut or sawn off a log for fuel’. Synonyms include:  billet, birch billet, junk, and nuggles.

This word-file shows the only quotation that exists for nuggles in the DNE Collection. It was recorded in 1972. The DNE-cit stamp usually indicates that a card’s contents made it into the dictionary, but in this case the editors later decided to withdraw nuggles due to a lack of supporting evidence. Scroll to the next image to read an editor’s comment on this word. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Not all word-files contain quotations; some show a commentary on a word by the dictionary’s editors. This word-file explains why the editors decided to withdraw nuggles from the DNE: “nuggle / nugle Withdraw MAR 1 1979 Single cite”. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Small branches that can be gathered for fuel are known as browse (rhymes with mouse and not with boughs), while a crunnick could refer to a dried out tree root or a small sapling cut for firewood. Another term for kindling was keep a goin’s, which the DNE defines as ‘small pieces of firewood that burn readily’. This is a fitting name for the wood families quickly gathered in the wintertime to supplement their dwindling supplies of nugs and billets.

This DNE word-file (recorded in 1970) lists three variant spellings: kippygoins, keep a-goins, and keep e goins. Variant spellings exist for many words in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Keeping an ample supply of keep a goin’s on hand was crucial to many families, who woke up each morning in freezing-cold homes with no electricity (when Newfoundland and Labrador joined Canada in 1949, only about half of all households had electricity). People learned to gather wood quickly and to distinguish between the different kinds of kindling.

To create a quick fire for your kettle, toss some blasty boughs in your wood stove – these are dead conifer branches that produce a quick crackling flame. If the boughs have no needles, they are called spray. Another kind of kindling was the bavin, mop-head, or chovy: a small piece of wood, split and whittled with a knife to give it curls at the ends. The importance that kindling once played in our society is reflected in our vocabulary – the word file below lists 31 near-synonyms, plus six more on its reverse.

Near-synonyms for kindling. Six more are listed on the reverse: jagoes, tobies, stribbins, straws, skiddles, and chaff. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Trapping was another important, although solitary, wintertime activity. Trappers often set out alone on foot in the fall and followed their trap lines for a few months before returning home in February or March with a season’s worth of rabbit, lynx, and other furs. Trappers were known as country men, furriers, and fur catchers. In Labrador they were also called height of landers – from the phrase height of land, which the DNE defines as ‘the highest stretch of land in an area; esp the elevated plateau of western Labrador’.

A word-file for country-men from the ELRC's DNE Collection. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Trappers spent their days walking and their nights sleeping in tilts: temporary houses built about a half-day’s or a day’s walk apart along the trap line. With no permanent winter home, they had to live out of their suitcases, or their progbags and tabanasks. A progbag was a portable sack or container trappers used to store snacks, matches, and other small essentials. It is from the English word prog, which the Oxford English Dictionary defines as: ‘Food; esp. provisions for a journey or excursion’.

A word-file for progbag. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

A tabanask was a sled trappers dragged behind them and loaded up with their belongings and furs. It likely entered Newfoundland and Labrador English through the Innu-aimun language spoken by Innu living in the Labrador-Quebec peninsula. This makes sense, since English-speaking trappers working in the Labrador interior would have probably been in contact with Innu in that region.

Tabanask word-file. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Bread was a staple of the trapper’s diet and could be called flummy or stove cake. Ingredients and baking methods varied, but trappers usually made this by mixing flour, baking soda, and water into a dough, which they wrapped around a stick to toast over an open fire, or laid on a stove funnel to bake slowly. Stove cake appears to have entered the Newfoundland and Labrador vocabulary by way of the Canadian North, while flummy may have originated here – there is no entry in the Oxford English Dictionary and the DNE only uses oral evidence collected from local speakers.

Trapping terms provide a useful illustration of how our history has helped to shape our vocabulary. Most of Newfoundland’s early English-speaking settlers arrived from southwest England and southeast Ireland in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. It therefore makes sense that the DNE contains many words of British origin, including progbag. Newfoundland English has also been influenced by the groups with whom local speakers came into language contact – including indigenous peoples and English speakers in the Canadian North. As a result, such words as tabanask and stove cake have also been added to the local lexicon.

The 2009 Mummers Parade in St. John's, NL. Photo courtesy of Philip Hiscock.

Many Newfoundlanders and Labradorians engage in the same traditions that are commonplace across North America and the United Kingdom. Carols are sung, stockings are hung, and lights are strung. But there are also those rare traditions that are special or unique to the province. The most well-known is mummering or jannying, which the Dictionary of Newfoundland English defines as: ‘The practice of visiting houses disguised as a mummer at Christmas’.

This tradition was prevalent in Britain by the 15th century and was later brought to the island of Newfoundland by English settlers. The earliest recorded usage in the Oxford English Dictionary is from 1417: “[There shall be no] mummyng [during this Feast of Our Lord's Nativity]” (from Henry T. Riley’s Memorials of London and London Life – In the 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries).

In contrast, the DNE’s earliest recorded direct reference to Christmas mummering did not appear for another 400 years, when the Royal Gazette printed on 23 January 1812 that: “Mr Michael Wall, who took an active part in forming and practising the MUMMERS that assembled on last twelfth day, appeared in the character of a General Officer, with his Lady.”

The earliest recorded direct reference to mummering in the DNE. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Mummers remained a staple of the Christmas season in rural Newfoundland and Labrador for the next 150 years, but fell into relative obscurity during the 1960s. One theory is that the growing popularity of wall-to-wall carpeting made homeowners suddenly reluctant to have troupes of mummers stomp all over their hard-to-clean floors. Another is that the introduction of roads and television pushed the activity into decline – homeowners could no longer be sure that their masked visitors came from within the community, and exposure to televised stories of crime and violence made them more hesitant than ever before to let complete strangers into their homes.

By the 1980s and 1990s, however, the tradition was back in the good graces and living rooms of local residents, buoyed by nostalgia for a vanishing way of life and the invention of laminate flooring. The tradition has not only left its mark on Newfoundland and Labrador culture, but on its language as well. The DNE lists at least ten synonyms for the noun mummer, including darby, dark one, fool, geezer, janny, morgan, naluyuk, ownshook, teak, and white boy.

Darby is one of several synonyms for the word mummer in Newfoundland English. The quotation on this word-file appears in the Supplement to the DNE, published in 1990. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Some terms did not originate in Newfoundland and Labrador, and were instead brought here by English and Irish settlers in the 1800s. Mummer, for example, is an English word and ownshook an Irish one. There is, however, an important difference in how these words evolved after reaching the colony: mummer retained the same definition it had in Britain, while ownshook developed a new meaning distinctively characteristic of Newfoundland usage.

In Ireland, ownshook simply meant ‘a foolish, ignorant person’, but by the late-19th century, Newfoundland speakers also used it to denote ‘a Christmas mummer’. This sense of the word appears to have originated here, with its earliest known recorded usage appearing in an 1885 issue of the Evening Telegram. This is supported by the Oxford English Dictionary, which also cites the Telegram as its first entry for this sense of ownshook and gives the following definition:  ‘Newfoundland. Any of a number of men, usually dressed in women’s clothes, who participated in a mummers’ parade at Christmas. Now hist.’

This word-file cites the earliest known recorded usage for this sense of ownshook. The DNE lists several variant spellings for ownshook: eunchuck, oanshick, onshook, oonchook, oonshik, and owenshook. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Other terms are unique to the province. One example is naluyuk, the Inuit word for mummer. Another is janny, which the OED defines as ‘A Christmas mummer in Newfoundland.’ The DNE lists four variant spellings: janney, jannie, jonny, and jenny. There are also word combinations, such as janny-night (any night during the Christmas season on which jannies go around visiting at people’s houses) and janny-talk (the distorted speech a janny uses to disguise his or her identity).

A word combination that did not appear in the DNE, but is treated in its word-files is last year’s jannie: a lazy mummer who tries to get away with wearing the same costume two years in a row, or who wears a disguise so flimsy that it cannot hide his or her identity. The phrase only appears on a single word-file, so the editors may have omitted it due to a scarcity of supporting evidence.

Recorded in 1971, this is the only word-file that exists for ‘last year’s jannie’ in the DNE Collection. “In my home town if a jannie wore the same costume two years in a row and it was found it then he would be called a lasts years jannie. Even if somebody was easily recognized he could be called this.” The town the speaker refers to is Islington, on Newfoundland’s east coast in Trinity Bay. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

The DNE also has many entries that relate to a mummer’s disguise (known as a fit-out or rig) and anyone looking for costume ideas will find a wealth of information in its pages or online search engine. As the word-file below indicates, a mask, or false face, is an important part of any quality fit-out – it hides one’s identity and adds panache. These are often homemade, but may also be store bought. Some mummers prefer the pared down elegance of a simple veil; others the flamboyant glamour of a false beard and giant nose.

A word-file for fit-out from the ELRC's DNE Collection. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Accessories are also important. Humps and bumps are greatly encouraged. They come in all sizes and can go pretty much anywhere. Among the most popular accessory, however, is the hobby horse or horsy-hops – a figure of a horse carried by mummers during Christmas festivities. According to the word-file below, which was recorded in 1971, the hobby horse may also resemble a cow or moose and was sometimes a costume in its own right, large enough to enclose several mummers.

Recorded in 1971. “Janeying tradition: On the Labrador coast during Christmas the janeys make what they call a "hobby horse". They have the head of a horse, cow, or moose with a piece of canvas attached to it. About six men get under the canvas. They put nails or something like that in the mouth to make a clacking noise. They put sticks or something in the head so that they can turn it and open and close the mouth. Then this fierce/ looking thing goes around to the different houses.” Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Interestingly, the hobby horse made its first recorded appearance here long before Christmas mummering became an annual event. In 1583, English explorer Sir Humphrey Gilbert and his crew brought “Morris dancers, Hobby horsse, and Maylike conceits” to the island. These were items and activities that Gilbert hoped would improve relations – both diplomatic and commercial – with Newfoundland’s indigenous peoples.

The earliest known appearance of a hobby horse on the island of Newfoundland. Reproduced by permission of the English Language Research Centre, Memorial University, St. John’s, NL.

Another accessory worthy of consideration, although perhaps difficult to obtain, is the bladder, which the DNE defines as ‘an inflated animal bladder used as a mock weapon by Christmas mummers’. If you feel shy about dragging one of these around town, then why not accessorize with a musical instrument? Our most dashing of mummers have for generations sported accordions, guitars, spoons, and harmonicas – when put to good use they may even earn a last year’s jannie a glass of wine and piece of cake.