Irish Language Blog

(le Róislín)

Cathain a thiteann sé -- oíche fhómhair nó oíche shamhraidh? GRMA do Mario Sarto a d'uaslódáil an pictiúr seo go Wikipedia (nasc thíos)

In the last blog we looked at the names of the four seasons as they would be used in prepositional phrases, such “in the winter” or “in the summer.”  As you might recall, this involved various changes to the beginnings of the words, like “san fhómhar” (ins, in + an, the + fómhar, fall, autumn) or “sa gheimhreadh” (ins, in + an, the + geimhreadh, winter).

As promised, here is an outline of using these same seasonal words in possessive phrases.  As you can see, there are similar changes at the beginning of the words.

“Geimhreadh” [GEV-ruh] may become “geimhridh” [GEV-ree] as in the phrase “lá geimhridh” (a winter’s day, a day of winter)

“Geimhreadh” may also become “gheimhridh” [YEV-ree], as in the phrase “aimsir gheimhridh” (winter weather, weather of winter)

Why the two different forms (geimhridh, gheimhridh)?  Because “lá” is a masculine noun and “aimsir” is a feminine noun.  The word “winter” here functions like an adjective, so it agrees with feminine noun, and this is shown by changing the initial “g” to “gh,” the process known as “lenition.”

“Earrach” [AR-ukh] becomes “earraigh” [AR-ee], as in the phrases “lá earraigh” (a spring day), “aimsir earraigh” (spring weather), and “Amadán Earraigh” (an April fool, literally here, a spring fool, but the April 1 connection is implied).

Since “earrach” begins with a vowel, there’s no initial change to the beginning of this word.   The process of “lenition” doesn’t apply to vowels.

“Samhradh“[SOW-ruh] may become “samhraidh” [SOW-ree], as in “lá samhraidh” (a summer’s day).   Or as the proverbial but somewhat cryptic saying tells us, “Capall samhraidh nó bó lae Samhna,” which implies that that summer-born horses and November-day cows are “showy.”  Hmmm, showy horses I can imagine.  Cows being showy is a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but I suppose one could imagine more modest cows and showier ones.   At any rate, “samhraidh” is used here to mean “summer-born.”

“Samhradh” may also become “shamhraidh” [HOW-ree], as in “aimsir shamhraidh” (summer weather).   As a further bit of “cow lore,” we also have an interesting expression, admittedly a bit old-fashioned by now, “bó shamhraidh” (a summer cow), implying that the cow is either weak or considered a “pet cow,” possibly because it is smaller than average.

Since “samhradh” begins with a consonant (“s”), it is subject to the same process of lenition as “geimhreadh.”  That’s why the “s” changes to “sh” — it’s describing a feminine noun (bó).

And finally, for fall (autumn), we have the forms “fómhair” [FOH-irzh] and “fhómhair” [OH-irzh].  We’ve already seen these fairly frequently, as in “Meán Fómhair” (September, lit. middle of harvest) and “Deireadh Fómhair” (October, end of harvest).  Here are a few more examples: “lá fómhair” (a fall/autumn day), “aimsir fhómhair” (fall/autumn weather), and “do lá fómhair” (your lucky day).

And finally, to get back to that intriguing phrase, “titim an chearlamáin ar oíche fhómhair,” we see the phrase “oíche fhómhair” (an autumn night), as alluded to in the last blog (http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/beagainin-eile-faoi-na-seasuir-a-little-more-about-seasons/)  In case anyone was wondering why this particular phrase should be so significant, it’s an example of very figurative use of language.  The “cearlamán” is an insect, sometimes known simply as the “droning beetle,” aka “maybug.”  The aptly-named maybug is usually particularly active in May, when it often flies into houses, attracted by light.  “Titim an chearlamáin ar oíche fhómhair” (lit. the falling of the maybug on an autumn night) is used figuratively to mean “a sudden occurrence.”

I never thought, when I first learned this expression, that I’d be researching the life and times of the maybug, but I see that it is widely discussed online.   And no, I don’t mean the cuil Bhealtaine (mayfly) which is also widely studied and written about, but for other reasons — even my limited knowledge of bitheolaíocht from meánscoil tells me that.  Cuileanna Bealtaine are in the order Ephemeroptera and maybugs are in the order Coleoptera.  The maybug is considered a significant pest because of the goile of its larbhaí, which is considered amplach, craosach, or airceach (take your pick!).  It nearly disappeared in the mid-2oth century, due to pesticides.  But with stricter regulations on the use of lotnaidicídí, it’s back, at least in some areas, le maith nó le holc.

Apparently children throughout Europe used to play with these maybugs, perhaps in ways we might not approve of today, such as capturing them and tying a string to their legs.  There was also a rhyme about them, akin to the “Ladybug” (or “Ladybird”) rhyme in English.  Such is the folklore and nostalgia concerning maybugs that there is even a contemporary song about their disappearance, “Es Gibt Keine Maikäfer Mehr,” by Reinhard Mey, using of course their German name, “Maikäfer,” Käfer being the generic German word for beetle or bug (lyrics, http://www.webcitation.org/query?url=http://www.geocities.com/ha_hammer/keinemaikaefermehr.htm&date=2009-10-25+23:38:37, or, to watch it http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVE540PRsQU)

Anyway, looks like we’ve gone now from a ceacht deas simplí faoin tuiseal ginideach to a discussion of cearlamáin i mbéaloideas, all based on the phrase “oíche fhómhair” (a fall / autumn night), for which “titim an chearlamáin” is an automatic association, at least for me.

So just to recap, genitive case forms (foirmeacha sa tuiseal ginideach) for our season words are: geimhridh (gheimhridh), earraigh, samhraidh (shamhraidh), and fómhair (fhómhair).  These forms are created by changing the final vowel to “i,” which may trigger some other slight changes, and there may be lenition as well, depending on the gender of the preceding word.   And that concludes our discussion of the seasons, for the time being.  Lots of other juicy topics coming up this month – puimcíní, cantalóirí, agus Oíche Shamhna, to name just a few.  SGF, Róislín

Nasc don phictiúr: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Maybug.jpg

(le Róislín)

Na Ceithre Shéasúr

Sula bhfágfaidh muid an t-ábhar seo inár ndiaidh, seo roinnt frásaí eile faoi na séasúir.  Le bheith beacht, seo na focail (geimhreadh, earrach, samhradh, fómhar) i bhfrásaí réamhfhoclacha.  Sa chéad bhlag eile, is dócha, cuirfidh muid na focail seo sa tuiseal ginideach, mar bíonn claochclaithe ansin freisin. 

For this blog, by the way, I’ve inserted some mini-glossaries, closer to the specific words under discussion.  You’ll see four of them.

Gluais (1) don alt sin: ábhar, topic, subject; beacht, specific; claochclú, mutation (here in the linguistic sense); fágfaidh [FAWG-hee], will leave; inár ndiaidh [in-awr NYEE-uh OR in-awr NYAY]; réamhfhoclach, prepositional; roinnt [rintch], some; sula, before (used with verbs); tuiseal ginideach, genitive case

Frásaí Réamhfhoclacha (Prepositional Phrases) le “sa” / “san” (in the)

sa gheimhreadh [suh YEV-ruh], in the winter

san earrach [sun AR-ukh], in the spring

sa samhradh [suh SOW-ruh], in the summer

san fhómhar [sun OW-irzh], in the autumn/fall

And here are some dialect variations you may well encounter: sa ngeimhreadh (sung YEV-ruh], sa bhfómhar [suh WOH-irzh], and sa tsamhradh [suh TOW-roo], the latter being fairly specific to Irish as spoken in the North (Dún na nGall, Béal Feirste, srl.).  And yes, that prefixed “t” is applied in Donegal Irish, even though “samhradh” is grammatically masculine.  If you use that Donegal pronunciation, the sound for the end of the word will change slightly from “uh” to “oo.”

So how exactly do we use “sa” and “san“?  Why the two different forms (± the “n”)?

roimh chonsain agus roimh “fhl” nó “fhr”: we use “sa,” as in “sa bhosca,” “sa Spáinn,” “sa fhliúiteog” [suh LyOOTCH-ohg], or “sa Fhrainc” [suh rank], (before consonants, including “fh” in a consonant cluster, like “fhr”)

roimh ghutaí agus roimh “fh”: we use “san,” as in “san uisce,” “san Iodáil” [sun ID-aw-il], “san fhaopach” [sun EEP-ukh], “san fhásach” [sun AWSS-ukh], or “san Fhionlainn“[sun IN-lin]” (before vowels and before “fh,” which is silent, creating an initial vowel sound for these words)

Gluais (2) don méid sin thuas: an Fhrainc [un rank], France; fásach, desert, wilderness, empty place, overgrown place–take your pick, de réir comhthéacs, of course; san fhaopach, in dire straits.  Also, NB maidir le “fliúiteog” (piccolo), the phrase “sa fhliúiteog” would imply that something was stuck inside the piccolo, or that somehow, something was in the piccolo, admittedly not all that likely a scenario.  But there aren’t really that many choices to demonstrate lenited “fl”–the others would include “sa fhlumaire” (in the flummery–actually …  I like that example), “sa fhloscmhéadar” (that would imply, I suppose, that some loose part is in the fluximeter), and “sa fhliuchbholgán” (now there’s a nice mouthful of consain chiúine [suh LyUKH-WOL-uh-gawn], meaning “in the wet bulb of a thermometer”).  There’s maybe a dozen or so more nouns that start with “fl,” but, altogether, not a lot.  Anyone care to send in sampla eile?

Getting back to the word “sa,” it can also be followed by eclipsis, instead of lenition: sa mbosca, sa bhfliúiteog, srl.  For the odd word “faopach,” though, I’ve almost always seen it lenited in this phrase (“san fhaopach“).  So Ghoogláil mé é, and this is what I found:

san fhaopach: 126 amas.  Google didn’t try to suggest any alternatives for this search (cuardach i gcomharthaí athfhriotail)

sa bhfaopach: 30 amas, when Google wasn’t trying to get me to read about either a spa or the SPA (School of Planning and Architecture) in Bhopal, India, for which it would have given me 25,300 hits (at first cull) in the “unquotation-marked” search.  A bhuí le Dia go bhfuil comharthaí athfhriotail ann!  Not that I knew offhand, prior to this jaunt down mórbhealach an eolais, that SPA actually stood for “School of Planning and Architecture” — I just kept wonder as I searched why there were so many spas in Bhopal!

And, actually, there wasn’t as great a difference between na hamais for “san fhaopach” and “sa bhfaopach” as I expected.  Healthy, yes (126 vs. 30), but totally one-sided, no.

I guess Google would be very good at “anagraim.”  GnáthGhaeilgeoir in éadan Google i gcomórtas anagram?  Smaoineamh suimiúil!  Déjà vu de Garry Kasparov in éadan Ghorm Dorcha à la 1996 nó 1997?  Not that “spa Bhopal” is a very exact anagram of “sa bhfaopach,” since there are ceithre litir left over, but I guess that’s the way Google works.

And finally, here’s a ceistiúchán beag to practice the seasonal phrases, using activities typical for each season.  Of course, linnte snámha faoi dhíon and tithe gloine could change the scenarios, but let’s go for the most basic, predictable answer.  Freagraí thíos.

1. Téim ag snámh.  Cathain? ____________

2. Téim ag sciáil.  Cathain? ____________

3. Bíonn daoine ag bualadh an arbhair.  Anois déantar sin in innill bhuailte.  San am fadó dhéantaí le súistí é.  Cathain? ____________

4. Tagann na bláthanna i mbláth (or, to say pretty much the same thing another way: “Bláthaíonn na bláthanna,” or yet again, “Tagann bláth ar na bláthanna” — hmmm, dóigh ar bith lena rá nach bhfuil chomh hathráiteach?).  Pé scéal é, cathain? ____________

Gluais (3) don méid sin thuas: arbhar, corn, in the UK and Ireland “corn” means edible grain such as barley, oats, rye, wheat; athráiteach, repetitive; bualadh, threshing, also “hitting” in general ; chomh, so, as; dorcha, dark, or, in this case, deep, as in Deep Blue; faoi dhíon, indoor, lit. “under roof”; gorm [GOR-um], blue; snámh, swimming; súiste, a flail; teach gloine, greenhouse, lit. house of glass; teacht i mbláth, coming into flower

Cad é an rud is fearr leat faoin séasúr atá ann anois (an fómhar)?  An aimsir?  Oíche Shamhna?  Dathanna an duilliúir?  Lá Náisiúnta na gCantalóirí (ar an 15ú Deireadh Fómhair i Meiriceá)?  Titim an chearlamáin?  Please write in, i nGaeilge más féidir, and let us know.  And, yeah, that latter will probably require a blog of its own, lá den tsaol, ach lá san fhómhair, más féidir!  And so, no doubt, will Lá Náisiúnta na gCantalóirí, ach mar a dúirt mé go minic cheana, blag éigin eile.

Go dtí sin, SGF, Róislín

Gluais (4) don alt deireanach: aimsir, weather; cantalóir, grouch, grumpy person; cearlamán, droning beetle; cheana, previously, before; Oíche Shamhna, Halloween (just slipping in under the wire to be consider “Fall” or “Autumn,” since “Samhain” (November 1st), traditionally marked the beginning of the New Year and of Winter

Freagraí do cheisteanna 1-4: 1) sa samhradh, 2) sa gheimhreadh 3) san fhómhar, 4) san earrach 

(le Róislín)

Before completely leaving an féilire, the subject of the last four blogs, let’s take a look at the Irish words for the four seasons.  In addition, we’ll look at the adjectives pertaining to winter, spring, summer, and autumn/fall, both in their classy Latinate versions, like “(a)estival,” and in the more everyday tone, like “summery.”

Seo na séasúir, mar ainmfhocail:

geimhreadh, winter; an geimhreadh, the winter [GEV-ruh or GEV-roo or GEER-uh, depending on, you guessed it, canúint (dialect)]

earrach, spring; an t-earrach, the spring, an tEarrach, with no fleiscín, when capitalized [AR-ukh]

samhradh, summer; an samhradh, the summer [SOW-ruh or SOW-roo]

fómhar, autumn, fall, harvest-time; an fómhar, the autumn, the fall, the harvest-time [FOH-wirzh]

Irish tends to just use one core concept or word-root to make the adjective based on the season (like “geimhr-” for both “hibernal” and “wintry”) unlike English which applies at least two different core concepts for different contexts (“vernal equinox” but “spring chicken”).  Actually looking at all these words in context could take at least blag amháin eile, but I figure this is at least a start:

geimhriúil, hibernal and geimhreata, wintry (more or less interchangeable though some more exploration would be needed to be more specific)

earrachúil, vernal or springlike

samhrata, (a)estival or summery, with samhrúil as a variation (can’t say I’ve ever had much reason to use either!)

fómharach, autumnal  A related adjective, “fómharúil,” has a slightly different nuance: “pertaining to the harvest,” also, in an extended meaning, “diligent.”  ”Fómharach” could also be used for “fall-like” in the American sense (hmmm, I’ll have to check on na Ceanadaigh, unless a Ceanadach on this list can fill us in on the fall vs. autumn question).  That could be, for example, for “fall-like weather,” which might be said when it’s not quite fall (or autumn) yet.  Of course that would depend on whether you use the traditional Celtic calendar, where an Fómhar consists of Lúnasa, Meán Fómhair, and Deireadh Fómhair.  Or whether you waited for cónocht an fhómhair (the autumnal equinox, or even more literally, the “co-night” of the autumn, logically enough).

For all four seasons, the actual noun can sometimes be used as an attributive adjective.  That will mean putting it in the genitive case, with an “i” inserted, as in “gaoth earraigh,” “glanadh an earraigh,” “lonnú geimhridh,” “do lá fómhair” (figuratively: your lucky day), or “cúrsa samhraidh.”

A couple of related verbs:

geimhriú: to hibernate or to “winter”

samhrú: to estivate (aestivate) or to “summer”

earrachú: to vernalize (kudos to anyone who can find a good comhthéacs for this, i nGaeilge nó i mBéarla!)

Curiously, I don’t see any basis for a verb “to autumnate” or an Irish equivalent, although there is the Latin verb, “autumnare” (to bring on or cause autumn).   Eolas ag duine ar bith ar an liosta faoi sin?

Oh, I just found a reference to “autumnalized pumpkin butter” online, but it’s one of a handful of uses of “autumnalize.”  Unusual, but sounds blasta!

Bhuel, sin é do na séasúir (the seasons)!  But not for “seasonings,” which would be “blaistithe” (from “blaistiú,” to season, cf. blas, taste, accent).  And that’s a whole different kettle of fish, and needless to say, ábhar blag eile.  SGF, Róislín