Avila—whispered ah-VEE-lah, like a swish of silk across a sun-warmed courtyard—traces her roots to the storied Spanish city whose honey-colored ramparts rise above the Castilian plain, and in that ancient stone the name gathers layers of meaning: it evokes Santa Teresa de Ávila’s incandescent mysticism, carries a feathery hint of the Latin avis (“bird”) soaring across cerulean skies, and even nods to the Old Germanic element aval (“desired”) that once flickered along medieval pilgrimage roads; small wonder, then, that modern parents, enchanted by its lyrical three syllables, have steadily lifted Avila from near-forgotten registers into today’s nursery songs, where she lands—light as a swallow yet strong as a fortress wall—around the mid-800s on America’s popularity charts, promising any little bearer a blend of serenity, bold spirit, and the timeless romance of Iberian legends.
| Avila Kilmurray - |