Apple trees are called apple trees because they are the trees that produce apples, obviously. But isn’t this the wrong way round? Shouldn’t ‘apples’ refer to the trees and their fruit called apple-fruit? After all without the tree there would be no fruit. This is also the case with roses. When we say ‘rose’, we think of the flower first, the bush after; we talk about rose bushes, we don’t say “please have this bouquet of rose-flowers”. True, cauliflowers reverse this naming system, but even here I realise I’ve never heard someone mention the cauli as the definitive name for the plant, apart from, occasionally, as a diminutive.

Is this a clue to the way we think as English people? Historically, have we always placed more importance in the produce than the producer – we name the bit we have a use for – and is this how the naming of things evolved?

What about ‘oak’? To me, this name immediately brings to mind a mighty and ancient tree, one whose fruit has a completely different name: acorns (although ‘acorn’ sounds like it is related as a word, i.e. oak-corn?). The early Indo-European and Celtic (Goidelic, Brythonic?) etymology of ‘oak’ seems to be, simply, ‘tree’, suggesting that the specific species we now refer to as ‘oak’ was originally named as the most tree-like of trees; highly appropriate given the stature of the tree in European culture. But as soon as I’ve written this, I realise that for as many of us, ‘oak’ is just as likely to bring to mind big solid bits of furniture. And I have read another ancient meaning of the word ‘oak’ as simply being: ‘good’, because the tree was good for making things out of, and it also burned well – so we’re back to use again.

Matsuo Bashō, the 17th century Japanese poet, wrote under several pen-names until, in 1680, he was presented with a gift of Bashō trees, a particular species of banana. These plants he loved so much that he eventually renamed himself ‘Bashō’ after them. Several years later he wrote this:

“The leaves of the Bashō tree are large enough to cover a harp. When they are wind-broken, they remind me of the injured tale of a Phoenix, and when they are torn they remind me of a green fan ripped by the wind. The tree does bear flowers, but unlike other flowers, there is nothing gay about them. The big trunk of the tree is untouched by the axe, for it is utterly useless as building wood. I love the tree, however, for its very uselessness… I sit underneath it, and enjoy the wind and rain that blow against it.” *

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* Matsuo Bashō quoted in and translated by Nobuyuki Yuasa’s introduction to the Penguin Classics edition of ‘Matsuo Bashō, The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches’ Translated by Nobuyuki Yuasa, Penguin Books, 1966