Most of us will agree that we frequently experience weird weather around here, so it’s high time we put colorful names to these widely varied atmospheric conditions.
When I moved to the Pacific Northwest from subtropical Miami with my wife Susan, many South Florida friends seriously questioned our sanity for even thinking of living in a place where, as they said, “it rains all the time.”
Living on Vashon Island for over 20 years has taught us nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, the word rain describes only a tiny fraction of the actual weather here. This was shown to us one morning when a neighbor referred to the light precipitation as mizzle. Seeing our puzzlement, he patiently explained to us newcomers that when it’s more than mist but not quite drizzle, there’s a very good chance what it is is mizzle.
My fascination with weird weather words began with that neighborly initiation into Pacific Northwest weather nomenclature. With a love of wordplay inherited from my parents, many whimsical weather words have come to mind in the following decades.
I reasoned that if the Inuit people have 100 words for snow, here in the Pacific Northwest we surely must have at least 100 words for rain. I discovered that familiar weather words such as mist, fog, drizzle, rain, sleet and snow can be combined to create many new words that more accurately describe specific weather conditions.
So in gradations between fog and drizzle you could experience fozzle or drog. Likewise there are subtle weather conditions found between rain and drizzle that could be named razzle and drizzain. Combining snow and drizzle yields snizzle and drizzow.
Combining two words to form another is known as portmanteau, the French word for suitcase. This writing technique was first used by Lewis Carrol in “Through the Looking Glass” to create one word carrying two.
Understanding the intricacies of weather can readily be compared to the appreciation of fine wine. Why settle for the generic house white when the subtle complexity of a Pinot Grigio or Zinfandel is far more satisfying? If it’s drizzaining today and you want to stay indoors, consider combining three familiar weather words to create hundreds of new words such as razzlebow, froudyleet or slizzlesnog.
Given time, patience and a healthy obsession, by combining four familiar weather words you can create thousands of new weirdly whimsical weather words such as frosailclouzzle, drizzeetsnizzle or haizzlesnowbow. The combinations are almost endless.
Whatever you choose to call the weather in this part of the world, our persistent precipitation deserves a far more interesting name than just plain rain.
— Richard Rogers, a graphic designer and web developer, is a writer for Vashon’s Church of Great Rain. He recently published his book, “100 Words for Rain – A Whimsical Weather Guide.”
