Today I’ll attempt to come to terms with some terms ascribed to me by self and/or others. Too frequently these days, I might add. I’ll juxtapose them with photographs that take the wind out of all their negativity – no-one can remain a killjoy, a fussbudget, a crosspatch or a grouch when looking at these visions of new life.

Killjoy (Do you have to write about depressing topics when all we want is some pleasurable distraction???) is an interesting word from the class of cutthroat compounds. These words describe the actions of people or name what things do. The verb is usually on the left (at least in English and German, not so in the romanic languages.) You can surely come up with a lot of these, like pickpocket, daredevil, know-nothing, tattletale, scarecrow or passport. Did I say a lot? There are almost 1300 of them (find the compilation here,) with the very first one documented as early as the 11th century. Sort of practical: instead of thinking of me as “one that inspires gloom or counteracts joy or high spirits : one that tends to pessimism or a depressing solemnness especially among people that are happy or optimistic : one that dispirits” (as Merriam Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary puts it) I just get called out:” KILLJOY!”

Fussbudget (Do you have to complain about half-raw green beans, when I prepare every meal and like my beans crisp? – Oh, my Beloved has every right to say that!) describes a person who, according to the Cambridge dictionary, is often not satisfied and complains about things that are not important. Etymologists believe that the words comprising this compound came from fuss, a state of agitation turning to complaint, and budget, from the old French bougette, diminutive of bouge (bag), from Latin bulga (bag). Luckily, the associated words of finicky, pedantic, perfectionist or purist do not apply to me. I think.

Crosspatch (Do you have to shout? I know you’re irritable, understandably so, but please lower your voice.) is a being who makes an appearance in this household when the going gets rough. The word describes an ill-tempered person, who is cross at the state of affairs, but also makes a fool of herself… patch is believed to have its etymological roots in Italian, where paccio refers to fool. Another possible linguistic root might be the name of Henry VIII’s jester, a man named Patch. Apparently the word took flight in the 1500s, during his time. Fool I am, since every shout these days elicits coughing fits rather than a relief of tensions.

Which leaves us with a grouch, which I am not! A habitually irritable person, as the dictionary defines them, is not found on these premises. Just the occasionally grouchy one, as when taking these photographs this weekend, my first trip to the nature preserve since the surgeries. It was so unexpectedly cold and I so underdressed that I had to get back to the car after a scant 15 minutes. I was swiftly pushed out of that mood when looking at nature’s gift: the renewal of the life cycle as evidenced by goslings all around you. A miracle, each and every year.

Here is music that fits well with being in a bad mood – echoing it (the Allegro) and then helping you beyond (the rest). The full version of Shostakovich’s 10th symphony here.

Only the Allegro here.