a full day's travel across a desert without a stop for taking on water.
Jornada “a full day’s travel across a desert” is a loanword from Spanish, and prior to Spanish, the term derived via Occitan, a language once widely spoken in southern France, from a Vulgar Latin word akin to diurnāta “a day’s time, day’s work,” from Latin diurnus “daily.” Though some modern Romance languages derive their words for “day” from the Latin noun diēs “day” (compare Portuguese dia, Romanian zi, and Spanish día), others base their words for “day” on the adjective diurnus (compare French jour, Italian giorno, and Occitan jorn). Both diēs and diurnus come from the Proto-Indo-European root dyeu- “to shine; sky, heaven,” which is also the ultimate source of the recent Words of the Day toujours perdrix, circadian, and jovial. Jornada was first recorded in English in the 1650s.
Last night around the campfire Pattie had explained that when they rolled out this morning it might take as much as two and a half days, if they were unlucky, a double Jornada, to travel from the banks of the Arkansas to the Cimarron. And between the two rivers, he warned, the landscape would change dramatically. For sixty or seventy miles there would be nothing but an immense barren plain—nothing at all, no wood and no water, not a stream, not a creek, not a puddle, not a drip of spit (he said) until they reached either the Cimarron River, which was itself often dry, or a spot just to the north of it called the Lower Springs.
The terrain was thick with cholla and clumps of it clung to the horses with spikes that would drive through a boot-sole to the bones within and a wind came up through the hills and all night it sang with a wild viper sound through that countless reach of spines. They rode on and the land grew more spare and they reached the first of a series of jornadas where there would be no water at all and there they camped.
a clamorous and vigorous attempt to win customers or advance any cause; blatant advertising or publicity.
Ballyhoo “blatant advertising or publicity” is a word with an unclear etymology. The word is an Americanism, meaning that it originated in the collection of dialects of English spoken in the United States, and along with fellow Americanisms such as hobo, jazz, and jitney, ballyhoo’s origins are obscure—though, of course, there abound several theories with varying degrees of probability. One proposal relates to ballyhoo’s earlier, now obsolete sense of “speech by a show presenter that boastfully advertises a performance,” which connects ballyhoo to carnival and circus lingo. From here, if this hypothesis holds weight, ballyhoo could be a shortened form of ballyhooly “Hell,” perhaps named rather unaffectionately after a village in northern County Cork, Ireland: the logic here is that, following the pattern of the phrase to raise hell, ballyhooly was clipped at the end and narrowed in definition from “Hell” to “clamor, outcry” and then again to “showman’s speech.” Other hypotheses about the origins of ballyhoo include an inversion of the elements that form hullabaloo “uproar.” Ballyhoo was first recorded in English in the 1830s.
As a young man, William worked for a logging company on Vancouver Island, cycling 30 miles after a long day of physical labour. He qualified for the 1928 Olympics at Amsterdam …. [He] turned professional the following year, ending his Olympic career, becoming a popular figure in the sporting culture. He was even romantically linked to Countess Fern Andra, a beauty of German silent movies and friend of the spy Mata Hari. The romance likely was a bit of promotional ballyhoo.
Barely a decade ago, the New York men’s wear presentations merited their own dedicated week with all the attendant ballyhoo, parties, corporate sponsorships and street-style photographers trawling for Instagram fodder. People turned out in droves, disporting themselves in outlandish costumes …. Plenty of schlock was produced during those weeks …
a cordial flavored with rose petals, cloves, cinnamon, or the like, popular in southern Europe.
Rosolio “a cordial flavored with rose petals or spices” is a borrowing from Italian, and though a rosolio can include rose petals among its ingredients, the drink is not related to the word rose. Rosolio is a variant, likely because of the influence of Italian rosa “rose” and olio “oil,” of rosoli, from Medieval Latin rōs sōlis “dew of the sun.” The term rosemary has a similar origin, deriving not from rose and Mary but rather from rōs maris “dew of the sea.” Latin rōs “dew” has relatively few descendants in English, other than obscure, obsolete terms such as rorid and rory, both meaning “dewy,” but Latin sōl “sun” is the source of solar, solarium “sunroom,” parasol, and solstice. Rosolio was first recorded in English in the 1810s.
Italicus is a new liqueur from Italy inspired by rosolio, a drink that was once the toast of the Court of Savoy …. Piecing together the original rosolio recipe was painstaking work; [Giuseppe Gallo, Italicus creator and an authority on Italian drinks,] spent many months trawling the archives of the University of Turin and interviewing superannuated Italians before he pinpointed a formula of roses, lavender, gentian and lemon balm. For his own recipe, he added chamomile, bergamot and fragrant Cedro lemon to the mix, resulting in a slightly more citrusy liqueur that works particularly well served 50/50 with prosecco, lots of ice and a couple of green olives.
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