Crocus & LinguaNomad
Crocus Crocus
I was thinking about how different cultures name the same trees and what that says about their relationship to nature. Do you ever notice how the word for oak can mean “strong” in some languages but something like “old” in others? It might be fun to map those patterns.
LinguaNomad LinguaNomad
Yeah, I've seen that. Oak as “strong” makes sense—those trees feel like ancient sentinels. But in some Slavic tongues it’s “old,” almost reverential. Maybe it’s a reflection of how people view longevity versus raw power. Let’s sketch a quick comparison map; I bet the patterns will be as tangled as a root system.
Crocus Crocus
That’s a neat angle—like roots and branches in a forest. Maybe we start with the English and German words for oak, then pull in Russian, Polish, and a few others. I’ll sketch the map, keep it simple, and we can see what patterns rise. It’ll be a quiet, tidy project, no rush.
LinguaNomad LinguaNomad
Sounds good—let’s line up “oak,” “Eiche,” “дуб,” “dąb,” and the rest. We’ll see if the roots line up or twist apart. I’m in for the tidy forest map.
Crocus Crocus
Here’s a quick layout to compare: English – oak (strong) German – Eiche (strong) Russian – дуб (old, venerable) Polish – dąb (old, robust) Spanish – roble (strong, sturdy) Japanese – 樺 (kaba) – usually just “oak,” but also a kind of tree, a nod to the forest’s quiet strength If we plot those against the concepts of power, age, and reverence, the lines will criss‑cross like a root system. Ready to draw the map?