Back in the days when life was more flowery, so was language. For example, here's Neltje Blanchan in her Nature's Garden in 1900. "The inaccessible crevice of a precipice, moist rocks sprayed with the dashing waters of a lake or some tumbling mountain stream, wind-swept upland meadows, and shady places by the roadside may hold bright bunches of the hardy bells, swaying with exquisite grace on tremulous, hair-like stems that are fitted to withstand the fiercest mountain blasts, however frail they appear. How dainty, slender, tempting these little flowers are! One gladly risks a watery grave or broken bones to bring down a bunch from its aerial cranny." This one in fact grew on moist rock on the Lake Superior shore, where it probably was dashed by the waters of the lake.