“Fall is better on the merits than autumn, in every way: it is short, Saxon (like the other three season names), picturesque; it reveals its derivation to every one who uses it, not to the scholar only, like autumn.”

Why does the third season hold two names, and which one is “proper?” Better yet, why are we quoting British lexicographer H.W. Fowler?

Life in the England of old (more specifically the time of Old English speakers, a la the writer of “Beowulf”) was, for those unaware, a touch on the morose side. So fraught with hardship and misery that people didn’t gauge the year by the four seasons, but by a single one: winter. They understood that a year had passed when everything hurt and you couldn’t go outside without wearing an entire wardrobe of fur wrapped around every extremity. Okay, so I’m exaggerating a bit.

Later—around the 11th to 15th century, or the Middle English era—the people were confident in admitting two seasons in the year: a warm one and a cold one, or summer and winter. It wouldn’t be until the 17th century that “spring” gained a foothold, and “autumn” and “fall” came into their own as possible labels for the period until then known as “harvest.”

But why the double moniker? Let’s just say pedantry and national boundaries play roles in the semantic drama, as is so often the case in language. Click through for the whole story. —MN