If you’ve ever wondered why English gives us two distinct names for the third season of the year, you’re not alone. While most seasons have just one standard label, autumn and fall have existed side-by-side in North America for centuries.

Neither term is a recent invention. Both originated across the Atlantic in Britain long before making their way across the ocean.

Before either word took root in the English language, the season was simply called Harvest (from the Old English hærfest). As populations shifted away from agriculture during the Middle Ages, harvest lost its seasonal meaning and came to refer strictly to the act of gathering crops.

English needed a new word for the season itself:

• Autumn: Arrived in the 14th century, borrowed from the Old French autompne and Latin autumnus.
• Fall: Emerged in the 16th century, when poets began referring to the time of year as “the fall of the leaf” (pairing nicely with “the spring of the leaf”).

​Over time, English speakers shortened both poetic phrases: Spring and Fall.

​When English settlers crossed the Atlantic in the 17th century, they brought both autumn and fall with them to North American shores. While fall eventually faded from everyday usage in Britain, both terms remained deeply embedded in North American English.

So whether you’re jumping into a pile of leaves or sipping a warm drink, both words have earned their spot in the lexicon.

References:
https://www.etymonline.com/word/fall
https://www.etymonline.com/word/autumnal
https://www.rd.com/article/why-americans-say-fall-not-autumn

If you are still losing sleep over the singular "they," I have some fantastic news: you can finally stop.

Every single day, you use "they" to describe a single human being without even realizing it. If someone leaves a wallet on a coffee shop table, you don’t say, "Oh no, someone left his or her wallet! I hope he or she returns for it!" You say, "Someone left their wallet. I hope they come back for it."

See? You did it. No lightning struck you. The grammar police did not bust down your door.

For those who like to argue that this is some brand-new "modern trend" ruining the English language, let’s check the receipts. The singular "they" has been alive and kicking since at least the 14th century.

Literary giants who knew a thing or two about writing — like Geoffrey Chaucer, William Shakespeare, and Jane Austen — all used the singular "they" regularly. If it was good enough for Pride and Prejudice, it is good enough for your emails. Major style guides like APA, MLA, and the Chicago Manual of Style have also fully signed off on it.

Beyond accidental usage (like the missing wallet example), the singular "they" is also used intentionally by non-binary, genderqueer, and gender-expansive people who use they/them pronouns.

A pronoun is just a tool we use to refer to someone. Just like you expect people to use "he" or "she" for you because it accurately reflects who you are, others ask for "they" for the exact same reason. It’s not a political statement or a complex math equation; it’s just how they exist in the world.

Here is the bottom line: You do not need a degree in linguistics to treat people like human beings.

Even if your brain still hiccups a little bit when you try to wrap it around the syntax, or if you think it "sounds wrong" in a sentence, it doesn't matter. Showing basic respect to another person by using the words they ask you to use doesn't require total grammatical mastery. It just requires you not being a jerk.

Language evolves. It always has, and it always will. If we can adapt to words like "brunch" and "google," we can handle using "they" to make a fellow human feel seen.

Ever notice how English speakers love to run words together? Sometimes, we do it so well that we permanently break a word apart in the wrong place and create an entirely new one.

In linguistics, this is called rebracketing (or misdivision). It happens when the brain mishears where a word ends and an article — like "a" or "an" — begins. Over generations, the mistake sticks, dictionaries give up, and the language permanently shifts.

Here are three everyday words that completely changed identity because someone misplaced a boundary:

• An apron: We used to wear a napron (derived from the Old French naperon, meaning a small tabletop cloth). But because "a napron" sounds identical to "an apron," the "n" permanently jumped ship to join the article.
• A newt: In Middle English, these little amphibians were called ewtes (derived from the Old English efete). When people talked about "an ewte," the "n" from the article slowly slid across the boundary line. By the 15th century, the mistake was fully cemented, and people were writing about "a newte."
• An umpire: If you call the shots at a baseball game, you are historically a "non-peer", someone who is neutral and not equal to either side. In Old French, this was a nomper. When the word crossed into English, a noumpere was misheard as an oumpere, dropping the "n" and leaving us with the modern umpire.

​The next time you fumble a phrase or slur your words together, don't sweat it. You aren't slacking; you're just actively participating in the evolution of English.

References:

• https://www.etymonline.com/word/apron
• https://www.etymonline.com/word/newt
• https://www.etymonline.com/word/umpire

Ever look at the word nickname and wonder why someone named "Nick" gets to claim all of our alternative names?

As it turns out, there is no Nick. The word is actually a spectacular linguistic accident — the result of centuries of lazy syllable division.

Back in the 14th century, people didn't have nicknames. They had an ekename. In Middle English, eke simply meant "also" or "additional." So, an ekename was literally just an "also-name."

But say the phrase "an ekename" out loud quickly.

Over generations of sloppy listening, the trailing "N" at the end of "an" migrated over to the front of "ekename." By the 15th century, people stopped hearing "an eke-name" and started writing down "a nekename." Eventually, the vowels shifted, and it became the modern nickname we use today.

This process of mishearing where a word begins and ends is called rebracketing, and it’s how a napron became an apron, and a noumpere became an umpire.
​
So, the next time you use a nickname, remember you're actually just using a centuries-old typo that stuck around!

Reference: https://www.etymonline.com/word/nicknam

Reference: ​Mistrust or Distrust – What’s the Difference? - Writing Explained

​We’ve been taught that "gossip" is petty, but the word actually has a sacred and radical history.

The word comes from the Old English godsibb (god + sibb, meaning "relative in God"). Originally, it referred to a godparent. By the Middle Ages, it evolved to describe the close-knit circle of women who gathered to support a mother during childbirth.


To be a "gossip" was to be a trusted, lifelong confidante.

The bastardization of the word was a deliberate social shift. In the 16th and 17th centuries, as patriarchal legal structures tightened, men began to view these private female networks as a threat.

If women were talking behind closed doors, they were sharing information. And information is power. To neutralize that power, the definition of "gossip" was strategically rebranded.

This history created the double standard we still see today. When men share information to navigate their social or professional worlds, we call it "networking" or "shop talk." When women do the exact same thing, it’s dismissed as "gossiping."

​The word didn't change because the conversation got smaller. It changed because the women got louder.

Reference: https://www.etymonline.com/word/gossip

We’ve all seen it: the third goal hits the net, and suddenly the ice is covered in ball caps. But have you ever stopped to wonder why we throw hats? Why not gloves? Why not a very enthusiastic sandwich? It turns out, the "Hat Trick" wasn’t born in a boardroom, it was born in a shop.

It Actually Started with Cricket (Sorry!)
Before it was on ice, it was on grass. Back in 1858, a British cricketer named H.H. Stephenson pulled off the impossible: he took three wickets in three straight balls. His fans were so stunned they literally "passed the hat" to collect money to buy him a new one.

In the Victorian era, a new hat was the ultimate "You're the Man" trophy.

The term was eventually adopted by many other sports, including hockey.

🏒 How it Became a Fan Tradition
While it started as a challenge for the players, the hat trick eventually became a ritual for the fans, too.
For years, hockey fans in the NHL have celebrated when a single player scores three goals in a single game by literally tossing their own headwear onto the ice. While the exact origins of this tradition are a bit blurry, with legends hailing from Toronto and Montreal, the heart of the story remains the same: a hat-maker offered a player a free fedora for scoring three times, and fans just ran with the idea!

So, the next time you see the hats flying, just remember: you’re participating in a tradition that’s nearly 170 years old. It’s a beautiful, chaotic tribute to a time when a new hat was the greatest prize a person could win.

Reference: Hat-trick - Wikipedia

​
We’re often told that more is better. In reality, we usually just end up with more words.

Enter the Pleonasm.

From the Greek pleonasmós ("to be superfluous"), a pleonasm is the use of two or more words to express an idea that is already clear with just one. Think of it as the "extra paperwork" of the English language.
​



The Usual Suspects
Are you guilty of these common "doubles"?

• "Plan ahead" (Unless you’ve figured out how to plan backwards.)
• "Added bonus" (A bonus is, by definition, added.)
• "ATM machine" (The 'M' stands for machine. You’re asking for an Automatic Teller Machine... machine.)
• "Current status" (The status is always current.)

The Challenge
Next time you draft a briefing note or an MS Teams message, look for the "doubles." 
​
Let’s keep our words as sharp as our vision. We want to make a difference, not "jointly collaborate together to potentially make a future difference.”

Reference: Pleonasm - Wikipedia

​Malapropisms remind us that language isn’t just about correctness, it’s about sound, rhythm, and how our ears make sense of what we hear. They show how English is wonderfully human, a mix of logic, creativity, and the occasional linguistic oops.

​Have you ever been told to use that instead of which, but no one could quite explain why? The answer isn’t about sounding formal or following an old grammar “rule.” It’s about meaning, specifically, whether the clause identifies what you’re talking about, or simply adds a bit more information.

In grammar terms, we call these identifying and non-identifying clauses. Once you get the hang of telling them apart, you’ll never look at commas the same way again.



Identifying clause: this gives you information that defines exactly which person or thing you’re talking about. Without it, the reader might ask “Which one?”
Example:
The cars that were parked illegally were towed.
Only the illegally-parked cars were towed.

Non-identifying clause: this adds extra detail about a noun you’ve already identified. The sentence still makes sense if the clause is removed.
Example:
The cars, which were parked illegally, were towed.
All the cars were parked illegally and all were towed.

When you’re on the fence, remember:
That ➤ no commas
Which ➤ commas

We often say “in the nick of time” when something happens just before it’s too late. A train caught at the last moment, a deadline met with seconds to spare, or a timely rescue all fit the expression perfectly. But where does this phrase come from?

The word “nick” has been part of English since the 14th century. It originally meant a small notch or mark cut into something, such as tally marks used to keep score or track time. To “make a nick” was to record an exact moment or point. Over time, the phrase “in the nick” began to mean “at the precise moment.”

By the 16th century, the full expression “in the nick of time” appeared in English writing to emphasize accuracy and timeliness.
​
From there, the phrase evolved to describe something that happens just in time to prevent a problem or disaster.
​
So the next time you make it to an appointment just as the door closes or finish a project moments before the deadline, take comfort in knowing you’ve done it in the nick of time — a phrase that has been celebrating perfect timing for more than four centuries.

References:

• Nick of time
  
• ​IN THE NICK OF TIME Definition & Meaning | Dictionary.com
  

​The word gossip hasn’t always carried the sting it does today. Its roots go back to Old English, where god-sib meant “godparent”. Over time, the term expanded to describe companions and friends, particularly women who supported each other during childbirth or in daily life. Far from being negative, it was about kinship, community, and trust.

But by the 16th and 17th centuries, the meaning began to shift. “Gossip” was increasingly used to describe women talking together and then twisted further to mean idle chatter or rumours. The transformation was no accident. In patriarchal societies, women’s voices — especially when they gathered — were often treated with suspicion. What started as a word for mutual support became a way to belittle women’s speech, reducing it to trivial talk.

Today, gossip is still loaded. While everyone gossips, the label is disproportionately applied to women, reinforcing stereotypes that their conversations are less serious or valuable. Recognizing this history helps us see that language isn’t neutral. It reflects power, and it can be used to silence.

References:
Gossip - Etymology, Origin & Meaning
the curious history of the word ‘gossip’ – word histories
How did "the Gossip" Become a Woman? | Psychology Today

In Canadian English, we usually follow British spelling rules, meaning we keep the “u” in words like colour, favour, and honour. But there are some quirky exceptions, and honorary is one of them.

Why?

​It’s partly about tradition and consistency. In English, when we add certain suffixes (like -ary), we often drop the “u” from honour. So while we write honour for the noun, the adjective becomes honorary — no “u.”

It’s a little odd at first glance, but it’s not alone. Words like honorific follow the same pattern, as do some others that shift in spelling when a suffix is added.

Language is full of these small curveballs and they’re part of what makes it fun.

Question for you:
Do you know any other Canadian English words that break our usual “u” rule?

English is full of tricky homophones — words that sound the same but have different meanings and spellings. One of the most commonly mixed-up sets? Vein and vain. Let’s break them down.

Vein refers to the tubes that carry blood through your body. It can also be used metaphorically to describe a streak or thread of something, like a “vein of humour” or “a vein of gold” in rock.
Examples:

• The nurse found a vein for the blood test.
• His story had a dark vein of sarcasm.

​​Vain means having excessive pride in your appearance or achievements. It can also mean "futile" or "without success."
Examples:

• She’s too vain to admit she made a mistake.
• All their efforts were in vain.

Quick tip to remember:
Vein contains "e" like in vessel, which is what veins are — blood vessels.
Vain has an "a", just like appearance and arrogance.