BISAC codes, as I discovered while preparing to publish Restoration Day, are basically subdivisions of genre. And sub-subdivisions, and so forth. Not content with classifying a book as Fiction, they will go further and classify it as, say, Mystery & Detective. And then break it down further: Hard-Boiled? Or is it Cozy? And if Cozy, then Cats & Dogs, Crafts, Culinary, or General?
Not the sort which forms on the inside of kettles when your water’s a bit on the hard side. That kind is something that simply happens of its own accord. The kind we’ve got is something else entirely – it’s intentional.
We have a little lime tree in a pot. It wasn’t doing terribly well earlier this year, so I dosed it with nitrogen and Epsom salts and compost and mulch, and it perked up a bit. It perked up a jolly lot more when I discovered the existence of scale insects, and gave it a drenching with some organic anti-scale spray.
In due course I moved the lime into a larger pot, and it continued flourishing. But hist! the plot thickens. The ants which had always seemed interested in the lime continued their attentions in the new pot. I don’t usually interfere with the doings of ants who keep outside the house, but this…seemed odd. I suspected. I inspected. I learned the dreadful truth.
It’s always good to discover a word for something you know about but have always had to describe in the past, for want of knowing its name.
While working on the third draft of The Wound of Words, I discovered the word girandole. A girandole is a sort of decorative multi-branched candleholding apparatus, frequently wall-mounted rather than ceiling mounted (as with chandeliers), and sometimes backed with mirror for extra light-shedding and sparkliness.