Wild Waters

Eight words for the day the river woke up and would not be told what to do.

Meet each word one at a time, then take the quiz to lock them in.

1. 1 current noun
2. 2 canyon noun
3. 3 release verb
4. 4 protect verb
5. 5 enormous adjective
6. 6 immense adjective
7. 7 frantically adverb
8. 8 constantly adverb

Nelson's word

noun

Current. A noun. I file it under water or air that flows steadily in one direction, the moving part inside a river, an ocean, or the sky. A current is not the whole river; it is the ribbon of water that keeps moving, and it always has a direction you can name. Swimmers learn to read it, sailors learn to ride it, and pilots learn where the air currents run. When a report warns of a strong current, it means the water is pulling one way, hard, and you had better know which way. State it precisely: a current is flow with a direction.

The current pulled the raft toward the bend faster than the boys could paddle.

Nelson's word

noun

Canyon. A noun. I file it under a deep, narrow valley with steep rocky sides, the kind a river cuts through solid rock given enough time. Picture two tall stone walls with a thin strip of sky above and, far below, the water that did the carving. A canyon is not a plain valley; it is deep, it is narrow, and its sides are steep and rocky. When you read that hikers stood at the rim of the canyon, picture them looking down a long, long way. State it precisely, and you will never confuse a canyon with an ordinary valley again.

The river carved the canyon over thousands of years, one steep wall at a time.

Vinny's word

verb

Release! To take a thing you were holding, gripped tight, and let it GO free! When the rangers release the fish, they open their hands and the fish darts back into the water where it belongs. That is the verb, that is mine, and it is a generous act, letting a caught thing swim off to freedom. But beware, this word has a secret identity. Say the release of the floodwater, and suddenly it is a noun, a thing, the moment the water was let go, not the action of letting it go. Same word, different job. We sort those hats in Practice.

The rangers release the fish back into the cool water of the stream.

Vinny's word

verb

Protect! To stand between something you care about and the harm that is coming for it! When the sandbags protect the town, they take the flood so the houses do not have to. That is the verb, and it is the most heroic job there is: to keep a thing safe from harm. A helmet protects your head, a coat protects you from the cold, a wall protects a garden from the wind. Whenever you see protect, look for the thing being guarded and the danger it is guarded from. That is the whole shape of the word, and it is mine.

Sandbags protect the town whenever the river climbs over its banks.

Jake's word

adjective

Enormous. Oh, this is a big one, and it is mine. As an adjective, enormous describes a thing far bigger than usual, so big it is out of the ordinary: an enormous wave, an enormous canyon, an enormous pile of sandbags. It comes from a root that means out of the normal, and that is exactly what enormous is, a size that breaks the pattern. Could we be more specific than saying a wave was big? We could say it was enormous, and let the reader feel it tower. Same picture, sharper edges. Magnifique.

An enormous wave rose over the rocks and swallowed the whole beach.

Jake's word

adjective

Immense. An adjective, and mine, describing a thing so large it is hard to measure, so vast your eye cannot find the edge of it. An immense lake, an immense sky, an immense stretch of open water. Its very name means not measurable, a size too great for a ruler. Where enormous is far bigger than usual, immense pushes further still, into the size you simply cannot take in at once. Could we be more specific than saying the lake was huge? We could call it immense, and admit we could not measure it. That is a beautiful thing to know how to say.

The immense lake stretched so far that the far shore vanished into the haze.

Benny's word

adverb

Frantically. An adverb, and I own it the way Nelson owns his nouns. It tells you HOW an action happens: in a wild, panicky, hurried way, all elbows and no plan. When the campers frantically stack sandbags, you can see the rush, the fear, the hands moving faster than the mind. Now, here is your coaching. Frantically is vivid, and vivid is good, but it also tells the reader that things are out of control. Use it when you want that panic to show. Make the picture match the word, and frantically will earn its place in your sentence. You can do that.

The campers frantically stack sandbags as the water rises toward their tents.

Benny's word

adverb

Constantly. An adverb, and mine to coach. It tells you HOW often an action happens: again and again, without stopping, never once taking a break. When the rain fell constantly, it did not pause; it kept on and on until the river could hold no more. Here is your coaching. Constantly is a strong word, so save it for what truly never stops. If the rain took a break, it did not fall constantly, it fell often, and often is a fine word too. Match the word to the truth of it, and constantly will hit hard every time you use it. Sharper. There you go.

The rain fell constantly for three days until the river spilled its banks.