Word Meaning Analysis

For many of us, the word “swamp” doesn’t have much in the way of appealing connotations with its implications of boggy, muddy, and probably smelly too. Many a frustrated mother has applied the word to a child’s bedroom along with orders, “Clean it up! Or at least keep the door shut! Please!”

The Macquarie Dictionary tells us that a swamp is: “a piece or tract of wet spongy land; marshy ground; an area of still, often stagnant water, infit for cultivation”.

Nothing appealing there, is there?

Words are powerful. How we use them; the pictures we get in our head when hearing them are often beyond our conscious control—we hear, we respond (and at times react. Sometimes in quite unexpected ways!)

In the far South East of our state of South Australia, “swamp” has a vastly different meaning. Here the land is flat, seemingly as level as a tabletop. Apart from the many acreages that were cleared and planted with pines, the country is studded with magnificent, giant red gums: Eucalyptus Camaldulensis.

You could see this part of the world as upside down; a reverse of “normal” where usually so-called “flat land” is actually a series of low, rolling hills and shallow valleys. Here, mile after mile of the South East however, there is not a hill to be seen, not even a gentle rise. Instead of the “gentle rises” there are dips: downs rather than ups, huge shallow bowls in the land surface. As it is so flat there are no rivers of streams but in winter all those lower parts can function as drainage sumps. Again, due entirely to that word “sump”, a less that appealing picture.

The very earliest settlers must’ve found these vast stretches of winter water an impediment, their animals could well have trampled round and in and through creating bog holes while areas for cultivation and cropping were dictated by the sheets of water impeding their workaday world. To those folk, “swamp” would surely have been seen as appropriate.

Late settlers, however, learned to work around all the water. They learned to appreciate the myriad of water birds that flocked to their swamps. They saw beauty in all those clear, still sheets reflecting the giant gums so often standing alongside.

The children of these settlers had a magical childhood where they could catch tadpoles and tortoises; paddle around in homemade rafts; climb the nearby trees; construct cubbies; build boats; and, on a convenient bank, dig out dockyards for those boats.

This was also my childhood too and it was truly magical. Along with that magical childhood, I also learned how words can be used in a way that varies their meaning—there is much more to them than mere definitions in a dictionary.

“Lake” would be far more appropriate word for the magnificent sheets of water teeming with life that were an integral part of my younger years. But “swamp”, for South Easterners like us stuck.

Such is life!

Those of us who write, however, must always be careful with our words. We cannot assume our reader will interpret what we have written in the same way that we intend. And yet we mustn’t go into long, convoluted explanations—a sure and certain way to ensure we’ll have not readers! It is truly a balancing act demanding skill, awareness, and sensitivity.

Nobody has ever said that skillful writing, effective writing is, to put it colloquially, a walk in the park. It takes time, care. And consideration—lots of that! The rewards: the satisfaction; the sense of achievement outweigh the pain and frustration many times over though, don’t they?

So just keep on writing.

© Mary McDee 2024

Feature Photo: Swamp? Or Lake? Mt. Gambier, South Australia © L.M. Kling 2001