A story of how a cluttered mind can find itself in clover

Once again, no gleanings: the comments have been too few, and there have been no questions. Perhaps when the time for a real rich harvest comes, I’ll start gleaning like a house on fire. When last
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Once again, no gleanings: the comments have been too few, and there have been no questions. Perhaps when the time for a real rich harvest comes, I’ll start gleaning like a house on fire. When last week I attacked the verb clutter, I planned on continuing with the kl-series; my next candidates were cloud and cloth. The nearest future will show whether I have enough material for cloud; at the moment, I can only say that the origin of cloth is a worthwhile topic.  However, before I deal with cloth, it may be useful to devote a post to clover (some difficulties in the treatment of cloth and clover are similar), even though one can read a long entry on it in my etymological dictionary. Old English had two forms of the word for “clover”: clāfre ~ clābre and clæfre (also with a long vowel; æ had the value of a in Modern Engl. man). The presence of long æ alternating with long a gave etymologists a good deal of trouble, but I will ignore this problem, for it is not the phonetic but the. . .

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News source: Linguistics – OUPblog

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