The Wellington Files

  • Superb Owls

    In his press conference at M-a-L yesterday, DJT was asked if he’d rule out the use of military force or economic coercion to wrest Greenland away from Denmark and/or to grab the Panama Canal. “No, I can’t assure you on either of those two,” he replied. No mention was made of the two additional sled dog teams Denmark has already assigned to defend the island (not kidding). There was some confusion on the follow-up question on whether he might nuke Greenland. He said Nuuk is already the capital of Greenland, which it is!

    In another note for Owl Chatter’s “You Can’t Make This Stuff Up” Department, Trump also said the Gulf of Mexico should be renamed the Gulf of America, and Marjorie T. Greene already has a proposal on it which she will introduce this week.

    [We are unable to include a photo of the Prez-elect for this story, because Phil refuses to photograph him. He sent in this shot of a Greenland woman wearing the territory’s traditional dress instead. He also told us he is marrying her and moving there, but he was probably kidding.]

    You’ll never guess who popped into the grid today. ZERO MOSTEL. Leave it to constructor Laura Dershowitz (Alan’s daughter) to conjure him up. He was clued a bit boringly with “Fiddler on the Roof star,” but we’ll take him any way we can get him. Some Brandeis-folk will recall Zero’s son Josh was there with us for a while. Josh just turned 78, kinehora. Here are Zero, and then Josh, and then Gene Wilder talking about Zero in a clip shared with us by Rex today.

    With the Super Bowl exactly one month away from tomorrow (on Feb 9), it’s time we talked about Super Bowls. Oops — I made a spacing error — I meant superb owls.

    Our friend Miriam Webster sends us a “word of the day” every day, which I often ignore. But I looked at today’s and am very glad I did. It’s GELID and it means icy, extremely cold. Right off the bat I’m the better for it — I wrongly thought it meant, like, gelled, or “having jello-like qualities.” And then Miriam went on to discuss nine words about owls, reminding me as well about that spacing feature of “super bowls” and “superb owls.” Well, it’s about time we devoted some time to owls on Owl Chatter, don’t you think? Here are the first five owls or owl-related terms. (Four to follow next time.)

    1. Billywix: a tawny owl. Billy is a play upon the beak or bill, which is very striking in the owl, and Wix is the german weck (a wig), alluding to the ‘judge-like’ appearance. Guilty!, says this fellow — Guilty as charged!

      2. Madge: barn owl. Likely short for “Margaret,” it’s another word that has been used for owls generally, and the barn owl in particular. Variants of madge include madge owl, gillhooter, gillihowlet, madge howlet, hissing owl, screech owl, white owl, church owl, padge, and padge owl. Some Brits also use madge to refer to the magpie.

      3. Tu-whit tu-whoo: the cry of an owl.

      4. Howlet: another term for owl or owlet, often a small one.

      5. Harfang: a snowy owl. Sometimes pure white but usually with browning spots or bars. From the Swedish word for “hare catcher.” OMG: so beautiful.

      Now that you know what a Natick is in Crossworld (from a recent post), I can tell you I Naticked today at the “O” crossing of LISBOA (“Portugal’s capital, in Portugal”) with ORALE (“Papal vestment”). The latter set Rex off, as follows:

      Extremely easy puzzle—hardly hesitated while filling it all in—except for one answer: a textbook piece of crosswordese risen from the dead to haunt and ultimately destroy this puzzle. There may as well not be any other words in this puzzle. It’s so weird and alien and from-outerspace that it’s hard to pay attention to anything else. I’m talking of course about ORALE. This is the kind of word that crosswords of yore used to rely on a lot because, I mean, look at those letters! Choice, common letters. Think about how often you see ORATE or ORALB or even ORANG in the puzzle, Wouldn’t it be nice to have somewhere else to go when facing ORA–? Well, yes it would. So, because everyone was filling grids by hand with no computer assistance, constructors used to cling to just about Anything that counted as a “word.” And so ORALEs filled the grid. Never a dominant word, but … look at this ORALE frequency chart. I mean, really look at it, because it is telling:

      If you want to know one of Will Shortz’s greatest accomplishments as a NYTXW editor, just stare at that chart. He slew the ORALE! And not only the ORALE, but lots of other arcane nonsense just like it. He got rid of (or seriously minimized) the awful stuff (known broadly as “crosswordese”) and filled the resulting void with slang, colloquialisms, names from pop culture, music, sports, the supermarket aisle.—everyday things. The constructors had something to do with it, obviously, but the puzzle took a more populist, more general-knowledge, more “fun” turn when Shortz took over, that’s for sure. Goodbye, ORALE! You can see he tolerated it for a decade or so and then poof—gone. For almost twenty years, absolutely extinct. Which was fitting, as the term ORALE itself is extinct, replaced long ago by “fanon,” which is itself pretty obscure. The question is, why is ORALE in this puzzle today? Head-shakingly bad. Everyone involved in ORALE-gate should apologize.

      On the plus side, the clue “Noneternal flames?” was great for: EXES. I also liked “Wrinkle remover,” for BOTOX.

      Ryder Cowan of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) asks:

      When your mobile rings, do you

      1. Answer, but wait for the caller to speak first?

      2. Answer, and say ‘hello’?

      3. Answer, and say ‘yes’?

      4. Answer, and say ‘may I help you’?

      5. Answer, and say ‘what is it’?

      6. Answer, and say your mobile number?

      7. Answer, and say your first and last names?

      8. Answer, and say your last name?

      9. Divert to voicemail?

      10. Just ignore it?

      11. Do something different?

      There were 81 replies. Here are some of the dullest.

      James Nolan: If it’s my Nana, I say “Hiya Nana.”

      Bernhard Slatcher: Only eleven options?

      Dave Matthews: I just shout “What!” in a disgruntled voice.

      Bill Lord:  The one thing I will never ever say to some unknown body on any phone is “Yes.” I do not want anyone to be able to pretend to be me and to buy something by using “yes” from my voice print.

      Sarah Robb: If I answer, it’s usually with, “Hello”, or “Hello, it’s Sarah”. The tone I use depends on whether or not I’m expecting a call, and also from whom.

      Avi Liveson: That’s not very helpful for those of us who are not named Sarah.

      Debbie Mackay: I always say “Yellow.” I don’t think anyone has noticed.

      See you tomorrow!

    1. Hobson’s Choice

      We’ve heard the Sirens’ song, and got tickets! We’ll be seeing the NY Sirens of The Professional Women’s Hockey League take on the Minnesota Frost at the Prudential Center in Newark. It will be my birthday eve celebration. You remember Eve, right? We have good seats and I think I will be able to access the tix on my phone, after bumbling around for about 30 minutes last night.

      We met the beautiful Siren Sarah Fillier yesterday. Say hi today to another knockout on the roster: Brooke Hobson. Brooke is Saskatchewan, and learned to skate at the age of 3. You’ll find her on defense. Don’t let the sweet smile fool you. If you try to get by her with a puck, she will knock your teeth out with that stick without a moment’s hesitation. Hobson’s choice for college was Northeastern, where she majored in Psych.

      I think I located another Jew on the roster too! Gabby Rosenthal. Has to be, right? Born in Minny; college at Ohio State (boo!). Here’s Gabby:

      Guess what The Writer’s Almanac threw our way today? — a puzzle by Sally Bliumis-Dunn called “Crossword.”

      The white and black squares
      promise order
      in the morning mess
      of mulling over

      the latest political morass,
      what’s on sale at Kohl’s,
      the book review.

      Each letter, shared,
      which lifts away
      some sheen of loneliness I
      can’t quite explain.

      This week, “arsenic” and “forsythia”
      are joined by their i‘s
      like long-estranged cousins.

      And when they ask
      for the French equivalent of sky,
      I’m back on a wooden chair

      in Madame Baumlin’s
      eighth-grade class, passing
      a note to David, having

      no idea, as my hand grazes his,
      that he will drown sailing
      that next summer.

      I like doing the crossword
      with my husband —
      Source of support,
      three letters.

      I’m the one who guesses it,
      glad he doesn’t think
      of ” bra” in this way.

      The puzzle rests
      on the counter all week.

      I like coming back,
      looking at the same clue
      I found insolvable
      the day before, my mind

      often a mystery to me,
      turning corners when I sleep
      or am upstairs folding clothes.

      They get added to pounds.
      Yesterday I thought
      it had to do with money or meat;

      now I can see the chain-link fence
      at the local animal shelter.
      Of course. “Strays”

      I especially like what she does with arsenic and forsythia. Bliumis-Dunn teaches Modern Poetry and Creative Writing at Manhattanville College. She earned a degree in Russian Literature and Language at UC Berkeley, back in ’83. She looks like a poet, amirite?

      There was a lot to like in today’s NYTXW, the clue at 51A, e.g., “Bygone waffle slogan.” Waffle slogan? Well, they gave you the back part, so it was easy. “[Blank] my Eggo” Answer, of course, is LEGGO. And how’s this for a non-depressing clue for DIE? “Random number generator.”

      I’m crying foul at 21A, though. “_____ Szewinska, only sprinter (male or female) to hold world records in the 100m, 200m and 400m events.” I would have had no hope even if she ran currently for the U.S. But her medals were all back in the 60s/70s, and for Poland. IRINA. Maybe I should’ve known her because she’s Jewish? Nah. Tough clue, esp for a Tuesday.

      I liked “You get the picture” as the clue for ETCETERA, and “Whoa, that’s good” for OOH BABY. And Dua LIPA was nicely placed next to EYE OPENER. Here’s DL, a little miffed at Phil for intruding on her workout.

      Story from the Onion: Japanese Fishermen Catch 600-Pound Can Of Tuna.

      “From the moment I felt the lip of the can tugging on our line, I knew it was going to be the catch of a lifetime,” said fisherman Hideo Kamada, posing with his crew in front of the shiny 10-foot tin of solid-white albacore and beaming with pride. “These chunks of fish packed in vegetable oil put up quite a fight. I’ve personally never hauled in anything larger than a 24-pack of StarKist, so once I got a glimpse of that shiny aluminum container at the surface of the water, I knew it was something special. It took all of our strength to reel it in without damaging the paper label, but we finally were able to lift it up onto the deck and into a shopping cart.”

      Bill Jeffs, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), posted the following:

      A few months back a 7-year-old great nephew was all agog for his next day at school, not sure what he’d been told but he was convinced they were going into space. Not totally unreasonable as they go to museums and other visits as part of school. Anyway, he came home totally disappointed, as they only talked about it and saw pictures but didn’t go anywhere.

      I’m contemplating whether or not I tell him it’s unlikely he’ll go there even at senior school. Thoughts?

      Paul O’Donnell: Tell him. He can handle the truth. He already had a taste of it.

      Gareth White: Why not tell him about income tax and inflation while you’re at it?

      It feels like Sunday today (it’s Tuesday). Is that part of being retired? Will every day feel like Sunday? Yesterday didn’t. See you tomorrow!

    2. Grapey Immigrants

      Happy Birthday, E. L. Doctorow! Dead since 2015, but so what? The E is for Edgar: His dad was a big Poe fan. Later in life, Doctorow asked his mom: “Do you realize that you and Dad named me after a paranoid, drug-addicted alcoholic with necrophiliac tendencies?” His aging mother replied, “Edgar, that’s not funny.”

      This poem, from today’s Writer’s Almanac, is by Barbara Crooker and is called “Monopoly 1955.”

      We start by fanning out the money, colored
      like Necco wafers: pink, yellow, mint, gold.
      From the first roll of the dice, differences widen:
      the royal blues of Boardwalk and Park Place
      look down their noses at the grapey immigrants
      from Baltic and Mediterranean Avenues.
      My grandparents coming from Italy in steerage
      measured their gold in olive oil, not bank notes
      and deeds. The man in the top hat and tuxedo
      always holds the good cards. The rest of us
      hope we can pay the Electric Company.
      We know there is no such thing as Free Parking,
      and Bank Errors are never in our favor.
      In the background, Johnny Mathis croons
      Chances Are from the cracked vinyl radio.
      We played for hours, in those years
      before television, on the Formica table,
      while my mother coaxed a chicken,
      cooking all day on the back burner, to multiply
      itself into many meals. The fat rose to the surface,
      a roiling ocean of molten gold.

      Here’s a photo of Rex Parker (not his real name) whose blog partly inspired Owl Chatter, though it’s limited in scope to the daily NYTXW and whatever doors it opens. He’s an English prof in Binghamton.

      That shirt he’s wearing is significant. In Crossworld, a Natick refers to being caught between two clues (across + down) that you simply don’t know, so there’s no way to work out a solution. Check mate. Rex came up with the term, as he explains: “A long time ago, I was solving a puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the ‘N’—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK … is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun (“I had a NATICK in the SW corner…”) or verb (“I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!”)

      [FYI, Natick is ten miles west of Boston, next to Wellesley.]

      And here are Rex’s beloved cats, Ida (white) and Alfie.

      For fun, I looked him up on Rate My Professors, to see what his students are saying about him. Here are a couple:

      There was no reason to go to class because he just rambled nonsense. I learned nothing. Avoid this class at all costs.

      I would say this is the worst class I’ve taken for the English requirement. Professor rambles and has zero empathy for anyone. Additionally, a serious ego problem. He really enjoys having more knowledge than his students. Avoid class at all costs.

      Ouch! But then there was this:

      FAVORITE PROFESSOR. I loved this class. So much. Quite a bit of reading, but it all ties together so well that I did not mind at all! Professor is also HILARIOUS and the only way I was ever going to wake up at 8am would be for laughs, so that was great! He’s accessible outside of class too.

      I check my reviews from time to time. My favorite of all time was: Prof. Liveson thinks he is very smart and funny, but really he is just a fat jerk.

      The puzzle today played with the expression DRAW CONCLUSIONS. Three theme answers used “draw” in the sense of art (drawing), and “conclusion” in the sense of end word. So we had CHARACTER “SKETCH,” CONTACT “TRACE,” and GOLDEN “DOODLE.” This adorable tune by The Bats, is called “No Trace.” Let’s play hide and seek!!

      Samantha Wood wrote this Tiny Love Story today. I think she puts her finger on what us grandfolks should be shooting for.

      Every Sunday, at 2 p.m. sharp, static sizzles from the beat-up, 10-year-old flip phone my grandpa won’t give up. Updates on his life in Oklahoma, my father’s health, my sister’s wedding plans, the old woman down the road whose dog digs up his yard. His lazy vowels loop together like cursive. He never says the words. But he’s stopped calling my girlfriend of five years my “friend.” He asks how I’m doing, sends old family photos by mail so I have a piece of them with me in Massachusetts. “You’ll always have a home here,” he says. “Remember that.”

      One of our favorites dropped in on the grid today, Amy POEHLER. She’s 53 (ouch) and is dating a former deputy editor of the NYT, Joel Lovell.

      I’m crying foul on 61A. I’m supposed to know “South Korea’s second-largest city” on a Monday? Second largest? It’s BUSAN. Easy Ed took the opportunity to give us a little lesson on it:

      For those of us who served in Korea in the days of yore, the answer was PUSAN, not BUSAN. The difference is in the anglicization of a relatively soft consonant in the Korean language that falls somewhere between an English “P” or “B” depending on various regional accents and the acuity of the listener’s ear. There are similar but more stressed or aspirated consonants in this family that are more frequently represented as “P.”

      OK — thanks, Easy Ed!

      Up for another “lesson?” At 43A yesterday, the clue was “Characters from Homer and Herodotus,” and the answer was ETAS, the Greek letter that appears in both names. OK, fair enough. But Michael Kavanaugh picked the following nit:

      While the capital eta does look like the letter H, neither name would begin with an eta when written in Greek. Well maybe Herodotus, but definitely not Homer. The h sound at the start of a word in Greek is created by a rough breathing, indicated by a c-shaped accent above the starting vowel. (A backwards-c-shaped accent would mean no h sound.)

      [God, I feel so ignorant. — Thanks, Mike!]

      One word yesterday that caught some attention was URNING. Nothing to do with “yearning.” The clue was “Storing, as some ashes.” You know, like to store in an urn — urning. Not convinced? Gary commented: My stepfather is currently URNING in a cardboard box in my storage unit waiting for us to travel to Istanbul. I’m planning on URNING in a plastic bag inside a cardboard box inside a dumpster.

      At 110D yesterday, “Vet’s concern” was PTSD. It led to this exchange. Anony Mous wrote: Anyone else bothered by 110 Down? Alas, we have enough PTSD in our society. Don’t need to see it in our crossword puzzles.

      But dgd countered: About PTSD
      Not in the least bothered by it being in the puzzle
      It is a disease caused by trauma
      PTSD is part of the human condition, and has existed since human beings existed (there is strong evidence that many other animals suffer from it).
      It is not some moral failing
      It can be difficult to treat and sometimes hard to identify. That is why the more public awareness the better. PTSD in the puzzle is a positive thing.

      If you notice (mostly) men unusually happy today, slapping one another on the back, high-fiving, etc., you are witnessing the joy we Jets fans feel at the end of the season. It’s the moment at which the torturer finally relents. It ended with a convincing if meaningless win over the fish (Miami) 32-20, which luckily only cost us one spot in draft positions. Amazingly, six teams finished worse than us.

      See you next year, girls!

      And we’ll see you tomorrow, Chatterheads!

    3. Jack In The Bag

      Today’s NYTXW beat me up pretty good, but I staggered out of the ring a winner. The constructor was Sam Ezersky who has bloodied me plenty in the past, so I was braced for at least a few hard blows. It was one of those solves that required me to put it down, tell my brain to keep working on it while I busied myself with something else, and go back to it later several times. But I found something neat in it that I shared with the Rexites. At 40A the clue was “Just ‘done’ with something,” and the answer was SO OVER IT. Then, the next across clue was “Development area” and the answer was UTERUS. So I posted:

      Having just come back from visiting my new grandson Harold (middle name Barney) in Michigan, I enjoyed the line in the puzzle that contained: SO OVER IT, UTERUS.

      One category of clue that made the puzzle hard for me was names of people I never heard of under my rock. E.g., “Second woman, after Kathryn Bigelow, to win a best director Oscar (2020).” Confession: throwing Kathryn Bigelow into the clue was no help. Some of you are going, How could he not have heard of CHLOE ZHOU? Well, I just didn’t is hou. At least I saw Nomadland, which was the film that won her the Oscar. Oh, here she is! Hi Clo! Georgie! — a couple of Diet Cokes for us please. Take a load off, girl. You’re lookin’ good.

      BTW, if you were wondering, Bigelow won hers for The Hurt Locker.

      Until I intuited the Z from ZHOU, I struggled with the long crossing down: “Ancient figure called the ‘huey tlatoani’ by his subjects.” WTF!! That’s a clue that looks like Zoey’s cat Emily walked over the keyboard during its creation: tlatoani? The answer was AZTEC EMPEROR.

      I liked how the answer for “Refuse to eat?” was SLOP. (See the wordplay? refuse = garbage.) Rex noted that SLOP was in the puzzle two days in a row, and asked: What kind of cafeteria is this?!

      Also learned that another term for MOB RULE is “ochlocracy.” Here’s how to use it in a sentence. The one time I tried (and failed) to teach a Hebrew Sunday School class in our temple, it turned into a study in ochlocracy.

      At 25D, “Iconic bit of media merch” was NPR TOTE BAG. It reminded me that the great Steve Post (alav hashalom) used to refer to the NPR journalist Nina Totenberg during fundraisers by saying donors would receive Nina Totenbags as thank you gifts.

      Hey, look who else popped by!! Annie, how’ve you been? It’s been months, amirite? George — make it three! You know Clo, right? Settle in. Anne came by the grid via the film She Came To Me, the 2023 rom-com, which, of all things, was used to clue the word SHE. (Annie was in the cast.) Exquisite, as always, Babe.

      Rule #1 of being a New Yorker is, of course, never establish eye contact. Why ask for trouble? So any contact with a stranger becomes a noteworthy event. As in this Met Diary story from tomorrow’s NYT by Brad Rothschild.

      Dear Diary:

      I was waiting in line to pick up a prescription at a crowded Duane Reade. An older woman who was clearly exhausted left the line to sit down in a nearby chair. When it was her turn to get her prescription, she stood up, left her belongings on the chair and went to the counter.

      While waiting for the pharmacist, she turned and looked at the man who was sitting next to where she had been.

      “You know what’s in that bag?” she asked, motioning toward her stuff.

      The man shook his head.

      “My husband Jack,” she said. “He died last week, and I have his remains in there.”

      [OC note: I’m guessing the Rx was not for Jack.]

      As I was flipping around the sports stations today, I came upon an ice hockey match. Nothing unusual there — the NYC region has three pro teams — more than you can shake a stick at — ha! But this game was between the NY Sirens and the Minny Frost of the PWHL — women’s pro ice hockey. There are six teams and this is the second season. There seemed to be a good crowd. The Sirens play in the Pru Center in Newark — now that I’m retired we’ll try to take in a game.

      As I was watching, Sarah Fillier scored a goal for us (NY). She’s the team’s leading scorer and was the first overall draft pick this season out of Princeton where she majored in Psych. She was spectacular on the ice in college and hasn’t skipped a beat transitioning to the pros. Yikes! A knockout too.

      The scene shifts to the bedroom where Sarah’s boyfriend, overcome with desire, spends 45 minutes trying to get 37 items of interlaced hockey gear off of her, and finally collapses on the floor weeping. (And you thought you had trouble with bras, guys?)

      I perused the Sirens roster. I’ll admit it, I was cruisin’ for Jewish names. (Jewsin?) And I scored! — so to speak. Abigail “Abbey” Levy, from Congers NY. Played college hockey for Boston College. Her Wikipedia page confirms that she is Jewish. It also states she’s a member of the LGBT community, not that there’s anything wrong with that. A goalie. Her dates have found it’s nearly impossible to get anything past her. Here’s a pretty sexy shot of Abbey (if you find the idea of a girl in an ice hockey uniform sexy — and who wouldn’t?).

      Did you hear about the minor league ice hockey goalie who let in twelve goals and caused his team to lose a crucial playoff game? He was so despondent that, on his way home, he threw himself in front of a bus. Luckily, it went through his legs. (Just one of those nights, eh, Marcel?)

      See you next time, Chatterheads. Thanks for popping in.

    4. Who Left The Fridge Door Open?

      Two funny people died this week. Dick Capri, who was 93, was a Catskills comic. He was Italian but was so much a part of the Jewish comedy world that the Friars Club held a combination roast and bar mitzvah for him in 2004. He knew (and used in his act) more Yiddish than many of the Jewish comics.

      He said he could trace his lineage to biblical times, via DNA research. “My ancestors were at the Last Supper, but not at the head table. They were at Table Four, where one of them won the centerpiece.”

      At the Friars Club roast he was presented with a yarmulke that was sewn with green, white, and red fabric, for the Italian flag. His life-partner, Alison Kaplan, said he was buried with it.

      Lenny Randle, who died last Sunday at the age of 75 (ouch), was playing third for Seattle v. KC on May 27, 1981 (Linda’s birthday!), when Amos Otis tapped a slow roller down the third-base line. It was the type of squibbler the announcers invariably say the infielder “wisely let roll foul.” But this roller wasn’t rolling foul so fast. So, as the obit in the NYT put it, “Randle dropped to his hands and knees and blew on the ball, huffing and puffing until it veered foul. The home plate umpire, Larry McCoy, called it a foul ball.” KC skipper Jim Frey protested and the call was reversed. But it was Randle’s argument in his defense that earned him a spot of honor in Owl Chatter. He claimed he was talking to the ball, not blowing on it. “I said ‘Please go foul, go foul’ — I just used the power of suggestion,” Randle insisted.

      He had another “moment” on July 13, 1977. He was batting for the Mets with Ray Burris pitching for the Cubs. As Burris went into his windup, the power on the entire eastern coast of the U.S. suddenly went out. It was the great blackout. Randle explained he didn’t know if Burris threw the ball or not so he just swung. Then, he didn’t know if he hit the ball or not, so he just ran. He said when he pulled into second base Chicago’s Manny Trillo “was waiting for me to hug and kiss him.”

      Randle played for the Yankees briefly. They acquired him on August 3, 1979, the day after Thurman Munson died in a plane crash. His MLB career ended with Seattle in 1982, but he continued playing and then managing in the Italian Baseball League, the first major leaguer to do so. Fans nicknamed him “Cappuccino” for his “hard-hustling play, charismatic swagger and impish sense of humor.”

      Randle is survived by his wife Linda, whom he met in elementary school, three sons, three grandchildren, and six siblings. Linda said of him, “He was like the wind that can never be harnessed. He was never upset, mad or mean, and always had something positive to give to you.” He remains the only MLB player ever to talk a ball into rolling foul.

      Rest in peace, Lenny.

      This poem is from the Poem-a-Day feature of Poets.org. It’s by Michael Hettich and is called “The Angels.” It rewards repeated readings.

      As the day turned to dusk, we sensed we could feel
      the people we’d loved and lost calling
      like a breeze that suggests itself but never
      actually awakens the trees. She told me
      again about the moment she decided to let
      our first child go so she could go on
      living herself, and I remembered
      how once, as a young man, I’d walked by myself
      for a day, until I was lost and came
      to a boulder and a creek. She remembered yearning
      to comfort our baby after we’d scattered
      her ashes, and I remembered that the sun
      had been warm; the sound of the creek had filled me
      with something as different from thought or song
      as a dream. She said she still dreamed of Audrey,
      our lost child. And then I told her again
      that when dusk fell, a clutch of black birds landed.
      Even when I stood up and gestured, there
      in that unfamiliar landscape, they refused to fly away.
      I think they were hungry. But I had nowhere else to go,
      so I lay down under stars so sharp
      in that darkness they hurt my eyes, even
      when my eyes were closed. All night those black birds
      stood watching, waiting for something. Like angels,
      she said then and laughed, though I don’t think she was joking.

      Paul Maynell, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), raises the following question:

      When I make a cup of tea do I open the fridge use the milk then put it back?Or do I take out the milk, close the door, then reopen the door to put the milk back in?

      Which will heat the fridge up more ? Open the door (creating a vortex that drags the cold air out), then close the door, make drink, then open and close door to put milk back in? OR open the door, leave the door open while putting milk into drink (allowing cold air to fall out) then close door again?

      There were 79 comments. Here are the dullest.

      Alex Paul: What would be the effect on the room temperature? Should this also be factored in? Are you partially cooling it? Or perhaps you are returning it to the norm following heating by the kettle.

      Simon Strudwick: My gut feel would be open door, extract and pour milk, replace in fridge then close door. Less wear and tear on hinges.

      Debbie Mackay: Have you ever had a fridge with broken hinges?

      Paul: I have never known anyone to wear out fridge hinges.

      Avi Liveson: I would suggest to save time we contract “fridge hinges” to “fringes,” but as fringes already exists as a word, it’s best we not do so, to avoid confusion.

      Ruth Hunt: I have walked into a partially open fridge door, which then swung shut trapping my thumb between the overhang of the worktop and top of fridge door. The nail has never grown normally since. SO: shut the damn door! 

      Andrea Barratt: It depends on how far away the cup is from the fridge. If cups are next to the fridge then leave it open. If the cups are a few steps away or in another room then close the fridge door.

      Richard Hall: All fridges are low-power heat exchangers. Leaving the door open for a while will have little effect; the items within will not appreciably warm. The device itself will not either. The air within is a poor conductor and will have little effect on the latter, regardless of whether the door is opened once or twice, or left open for a few minutes. I would suggest that correct procedure is to boil a kettle, pour and allow the tea to brew, fetch the milk and add and return directly to the fridge on the same journey as the spoon to the sink for maximum efficiency. The fridge isn’t relevant.

      Paul: But my fridge is quite empty. As my room is heated to 20°c and the fridge is 5°c, I expect the cold air to fall out of the fridge and hot air to go in at the top but I need a thermal camera to see what happens in practice.

      Avi Liveson: Yes, definitely buy a thermal camera and let us know what you learn.

      Richard Hall: I’m not a physicist but I don’t think one lot of air replaces the other. The colder air is denser and will have higher pressure. When it meets the warmer air there will be a pressure drop at the interface. However, air is a poor conductor of energy so this is not exactly a ‘whoosh’.

      Robbie Robb: It seems counter-intuitive to me to leave the fridge door open for longer than necessary. I am no physicist, and my understanding of thermodynamics is basic at best, but the fridge is surely meant to be kept closed apart from when needing to take something out or put something in. I appreciate that leaving it open for a short time might not have a significant effect, but my parents wouldn’t have approved. An open fridge door is just wrong.

      Annabelle MacKendrick: Another variable is if you get distracted between retrieving the milk from the fridge and pouring it into the tea.

      There was some wonderful stuff in today’s NYTXW. First, the clue/answer at 21D. The clue: “‘That’s rather unfortunate,’ dismissively.” The answer: SUCKS TO BE YOU. At 37A, “Words before someone finally snaps?” SAY CHEESE.

      Then, at 48D, the clue was “Simple question on a high schooler’s hand-drawn poster.” You know about this business? The answer was PROM, and it’s a reference to “prom-posals” which have become a big thing. Kids are coming up with creative ways to ask their babes to the prom.

      [God — remember when you could talk to a high school girl without risking arrest? Those greasy pimply boys have no idea they are in Eden.]

      Yesterday, “Average Joe’s name (that’s not Joe)” was a play on the word “average.” The answer was NORM.

      Ever fall in love with the cute check-out girl (or guy) at the supermarket? Ever not? Rex shared this sweet song called Norman 3, by Teenage Fanclub.

      Sam and Sarah have monitors in Morris’s and Harold’s rooms, so you can hear what’s going on up there from down in the kitchen, where I usually hang. So I could hear Sam with Morris trying to get him to nap. It was quite a negotiation. Every three-year-old is a lawyer. Sam was finally able to work out a deal with Morris that would get Morris napping after ten more minutes of some sort of playing. Eventually, I heard the door click and Sam came downstairs. I referred to the arrangement Sam and Morris hammered out as a “pre-naptial agreement.”

      See you tomorrow!

    5. Palindrome

      Notice anything special about the grid in yesterday’s puzzle?

      Step a bit back from it – that’s a dreidel in the center. See it? And since the song says they are made out of clay, all of the letters within the dreidel above are C, L, A, or Y.

      Wanna play? Just go to 52D and SPIN it. What are you playing for? That’s at 59D: GELT. Hope you don’t mind if our OWLS watch you play — they are at 54D, aptly clued as “symbols of wisdom.”

      If you’re wondering how dreidel is played, each side of the dreidel bears a letter of the Hebrew alphabet: נ‎ (nun), ג‎ (gimel), ה‎ (hei), ש‎ (shin).

      Everybody starts with an equal amount of pennies (or whatever you want to use), usually ten or fifteen. Each player kicks in a penny to start and does so again later whenever the pot is reduced to one or zero pennies. The players take turns spinning and see what letter lands face up. If it’s a nun, you do nothing — it’s like you skipped your turn. If it’s a shin, you have to kick in another penny. That’s a f*cking disaster in the world of dreidel. If it’s a gimel, you win the pot!! Hooray! If it’s a hei you win half the pot. When/if you have lost all of your pennies, you’re out. The last one alive wins.

      Back to the puzzle, you can see in the upper portion of the grid that the circled squares reflect a spin: Nun is at 9D (NONE); Shin is at 5D (PUT IN); Gimel is at 3D (ALL); and Hei is at 11D (HALF).

      This gem of a puzzle, appropriately run during Chanukah, was constructed by Seth Bisen-Hirsh and Jeff Chen. Seth’s parents are very good friends of Chatterheads Nancy and Eric, and Jeff is a giant in Crossworld.

      Unable to get into any good schools, Seth had to settle for earning two undergrad degrees at MIT (computer science and music), and his masters in music technology at NYU. In addition to brilliant XW construction, he is busy as an author, performer, composer/lyricist, and producer. Needless to say, Seth is a terrible disappointment to his parents since he is not a doctor.

      In addition to the neat dreidel theme, the puzzle had other features worth noting: A neat pervasive “O” presence, with OHARE, OVINE, OH GOD, ONO, and OHO. At 33D for “What you might call a tipsy friend,” the answer was CAB. There’s a nice PSA, no?

      And Seth and Jeff invited such a nice group of visitors to their grid: ELLEN DeGeneres, Sandra DEE, Chris NOLAN, Yoko (as noted above), BEA Arthur, and the two lovelies, ALICIA KEYES, and TERI Hatcher. Here are Alicia and Teri, with the latter looking especially sexy.

      Last word on the puzzle. Re: OH GOD and PUT IN. Commenter Anony Mous noted: The lord’s name is no joke for observant Jews, who won’t even write the word God (it’s usually rendered G-d in print). I’m not suggesting the puzzle never have “god” as an answer, but in a Jewish-themed puzzle it’s tone deaf at best. Same with PUTIN, whose scapegoating of “ethnic Jews” as an intentional tool of tyranny hearkens back to a troubled history and just feels insulting in a puzzle ostensibly celebrating a Jewish festival. Couple this with the swastika debacle two years ago, where [Will] Shortz doubled down on “it’s just a pinwheel!” and it really sours me on him as both an editor and a person. Most of us manage to avoid casual antisemitism every day without nearly as much effort as the puzzle seems to require on Chanukah.

      OMG, Mous — how idiotic can you be? To ascribe what you are ascribing to Will Shortz, Seth, and Jeff is ridiculous. Sometimes a banana is just a banana, and not an anti-Semitic banana.

      This poem appeared in yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by Ron Padgett and is called:

      A Small Glass of Orange Juice

      on a white tablecloth
      with light blue legs below
      in a hotel restaurant
      in a small town in Poland
      in 1936
      is being contemplated
      by a man
      whose homburg
      is tilted
      at an angle
      parallel to that
      of the picture
      on the wall
      behind him,
      a mountain scene
      with forest below
      in which a lone deer
      has turned to look at us.

      Oopsies.

      Heather Pimble of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) writes: While contemplating the new year I realised my birthday can be written as a palindrome this year – 52211225.

      It generated an explosion of confusion.

      Ed Sylvester: How is 52211225 a date?

      Debbie Matthews: Were you born in 1225??

      David Mortimer: Although 52211225 is certainly palindromic I’m not convinced it’s actually your date of birth. I mean I could take any number, today’s date 010125 and make it palindromic by prefixing/suffixing appropriate digits.

      52101010125 or 01012521010

      And whilst they’re the same backwards or forwards I don’t think either of them could be taken to mean the same as 010125.

      Phil Drummond: Is “11th November” a verb now?

      Heather, who started it all, finally popped back in with: Sorry I’ve stimulated so many of your minds. I was born in (19)52 on the 21st December and it’s now (20)25.

      [I think I see it now, but my brain hurts.]

      My beautiful cousin Dayle (twin of Dianne) with hubby Mike, hosted Linda, me, and Welly for brunch today. Their son Dan with his lovely bride Marina and their two gorgeous boys were visiting from Florida. As a bonus, Dianne and hubby Dick were there too. I hadn’t seen Dan since his bar mitzvah. He’s, like, a real person now and absolutely wonderful. Very funny and warm. To say he reminded me a bit of my cousin Steve, alav hashalom, is pretty much about the highest praise I could give anyone, and he did.

      I mentioned how we recently attended Harold’s bris via Zoom but that the mohel was there in person. And then I noted that doctor-friend Larry said he could see a future in which circumcisions are performed remotely, via robotics. (In fact, for my prostate surgery, the surgeon was not in the room.) I said it would open up some neat possibilities, like having a mohel in Jerusalem perform a bris in NY. Dan loved the concept, and noted it would allow for all sorts of circumnavigation.

      Last, a special shout-out to very generous hosts Pam and Roy for this year’s New Year’s Day party in Wilmington DE. And for stuffing Linda and me with many take-home eats, not a crumb from which went unenjoyed. Yum!

      Happy New Year, Chatterheads! Our photographer Phil, who’s unusually prescient for someone who drinks so much, tells us we’re in for quite a ride. See you tomorrow — thanks for popping by.

    6. Buttercups

      Here’s a New Year’s Eve poem for us, from today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by Jack Ridl and is called “The End of This Year.”

      The best place to be is here,
      at home, the two of us, while

      others ski or eat out. It will be
      quiet. We won’t watch the ball

      fall, the crowd in Times Square.
      They will celebrate while here

      there is this night. Tomorrow
      some will start over, or vow

      to stop something; maybe try
      again. Here the snow will

      fall through the light over
      the back door and gather

      on the steps. We will hope
      our daughter will be safe.

      She will wonder what
      the year will bring. Maybe

      we will say a prayer.

      Today’s puzzle included the American composer John Adams. The clue was “‘Nixon in ___’ (John Adams opera).” Wow — I’m very familiar with it, so I filled in CHINA right away. It was my go-to music thirty years ago when I painted a bunch of rooms in my house.

      I heard John Adams on NPR once tell a story that stayed with me. When he was in his teens, he was a member of a community band that was terrible. You could barely discern what tune they were trying to bang out. But one day they were set to perform in a local mental institution as a goodwill gesture. As the band was setting up, the patients were brought in and they were in various states of disarray — drooling, staring into space, mumbling to themselves, and so on. And then the band began to play and it was as if their lights were turned on. They all turned to watch and listen in wonder. They slowly shuffled their way towards the band and encircled them, enraptured for the entire performance. Adams said he never saw anything like it and it was then that he decided to pursue a life in music. If it could reach such lost souls so deeply, he wanted to be part of it.

      Here’s how commenter Gary described his experience with Saturday’s puzzle:

      This puzzle pushed me to the ground, kicked sand in my face, pointed and laughed at me, and then took my girlfriend to dinner.

      In yesterday’s puzzle, Rex and others (not me) were caught short at 18A. The clue was “Flower that reflects yellow when held under one’s chin.” The answer, of course, was BUTTERCUP.

      One that did catch me was “‘All you need is love and a ___’ (old saying).” The answer was CAT. (Had no idea.)

      Here’s Rex on them:

      There were a couple of clues that just meant absolutely nothing to me. Why are you holding a BUTTERCUP (or any flower) under your chin? Like, why that location, specifically? Huge shrug there. Also, even huger shrug on the alleged expression, “All you need is love and a CAT.” Uh, what? Who said that, when? It’s an “old saying?” I’m old. And I have cats. Why haven’t I heard it? Look, here’s one of my cats now:

      As many of you know, if you hold a buttercup under your chin and it reflects yellow onto said chin, you like butter.

      Scientists have taken up the question (the reflection part, not the fondness for butter). Researchers discovered that the buttercup petal’s unique bright and glossy appearance is the result of the interplay between its different layers. In particular, the strong yellow reflection responsible for the chin illumination is mainly due to the epidermal layer of the petal that reflects yellow light with an intensity that is comparable to glass. They say it has nothing to do with whether the holder likes butter. (Bah — you’re no fun!)

      Here’s commenter Gary again:

      The clue for BUTTERCUP is weird. Who’s holding flowers under their chin? So I asked my wife and sure enough she brightened right up with a happy memory from her childhood. What other secrets is she keeping?

      I learned a completely new meaning of SHIP from yesterday’s XW. Brace yourselves. The clue was “Wish for a romantic pairing between, in modern parlance.” Crazy, no? It all started back with the X-files TV show with the very attractive couple Mulder and Scully. Fans who were hoping they would hook up started being known (in the show’s fandom) as “relationshippers,” which was shortened to shippers. So the word “ship” has entered the language as stated in the clue. I’m not entirely certain how it’s used. I think you could ask: “Back in the early seasons of Friends, did you ship Ross and Rachel?”

      Hey! Don’t look at me in that tone of voice!!

      Those of you who don’t rely entirely on Owl Chatter for your news are likely to be aware of the infighting that’s broken out in Trumpworld. It’s over H-1B visas which allow companies to hire foreign workers for skilled positions. On one side are the Musk-ovites who favor the visas because their tech companies need the foreign engineers. That other dirtbag who’s working with Musk on killing Medicare and Social Security — Vivien Rimsky-Korsakov — agrees. Here’s Musk’s calm, reasoned position on the matter:  “The reason I’m in America along with so many critical people who built SpaceX, Tesla and hundreds of other companies that made America strong is because of H-1B. Take a big step back and F*CK YOURSELF in the face. I will go to war on this issue the likes of which you cannot possibly comprehend.” (Musk’s Tesla was among the leading employers of those holding H-1B visas in 2024.)

      But the right-wing MAGA-lomaniacs have never met an immigrant they didn’t want deported, so they are calling for elimination of the visa. Steve Bannon is in this wing, so it’s a movie like King Kong vs Godzilla. Here’s Bannon on it: “You can’t stop us, we’re relentless…. We’re never going to quit…. We’re a thousand times tougher than you guys are…. Keep coming after American citizens like you’re coming and you’re going to find out exactly how tough we are. We’re not going to tolerate this. Your trashing of the MAGA movement…. How dare you…. I don’t care how big a check you wrote.”

      Later, Bannon doubled down: “We’re gonna get H-1B visas out, root and stem, and all the workers you brought in. Just like we’re deporting 15 million here, we want them deported, out…. And give those jobs to American citizens today…we demand they get reparations. You stole from them.”

      What makes it all so delicious (and qualifies it as Owl Chatter fodder) is how Trump weighs in on it. In 2016 he said the H-1B program shouldn’t exist. And on June 22, 2020, he issued an executive order suspending H-1B visas because he said they were taking jobs from Americans.

      He apparently has swung over to the Musk-ovites, but perhaps he’s a little confused?  “I’ve always liked the visas, I have always been in favor of the visas. That’s why we have them. I have many H-1B visas on my properties. I’ve been a believer in H-1B. I have used it many times. It’s a great program.”

      However, as historian Heather Cox Richardson notes: Trump appeared to be confusing H-1B visas with H-2A and H-2B visas, which cover temporary agricultural workers and seasonal workers in tourism, hospitality, and landscaping.

      D’oh!

      The larger question: Will Trump really go through with his deportation program once he learns farmworkers like this will be booted?

      As the harpists say: Stay tuned! (Harpists, as the joke goes, spend half their lives tuning their harps, and the other half playing them out of tune.)

      Happy New Year Chatterheads!! The owls, George, Philly, Ana, and I wish you nothing but utter nonsense in the coming year — SRSLY. See you next time!

    7. Huron Road

      Driving back from Annie Arbor to Bloomfield Hills Saturday night, here’s the conversation I overheard between George (who was driving), and Philly (who was navigating).

      George: What’s the next road I should be on?

      Phil: Huron Road

      George: Right. I’m on this road, and I need to know what’s the next road?

      Phil: Huron Road

      G: I’m on this road now — is that what you’re asking me? What road I’m on?

      P: What?

      G: Are you asking what road I’m on now?

      P: No, why would I do that?

      G: I don’t know. Then what did you mean?

      P: When?

      G: Just now, arrrrrgh — I need to know what road to go on next.

      P: Huron Road.

      G: Right — I’m on a road now, but what is the next road?

      P: Huron Road.

      G: I know that!! Okay, look. You see this road I’m on now?

      P: Yes.

      G: Good. Now when I turn off of this road, I’m on another road, right?

      P: Right.

      G: Good, and what is that next road?

      P: Huron Road.

      G: No! I know I’m on this road — I need to know the next road!!

      P: What?

      G: I just told you what — I need to know where to turn.

      P: Huron Road.

      G: Argggghhhh. Help!!

      We were driving back from the Crossroads Ceili at The Ark in Ann Arbor. Ceili is pronounced Kay-lee, and I think it means a party with music, dancing, and storytelling. It’s an annual event that’s been going on for over 20 years at The Ark, put together by local Irish musicians. It was wonderful. I learned the difference, to the Irish, between songs and tunes. Songs have words and are sung. Tunes are played on instruments: no words.

      Hannah Harris was one of the half dozen fiddlers that were on hand. She also has a beautiful voice.

      How’s this as a clue for ALBERTA: “Canadian province that’s home to the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump World Heritage Site.” What?

      Well, you learn some odd stuff from puzzles. Here’s the scoop, courtesy of Wikipedia:

      The buffalo jump was used for 5,500 years by the indigenous peoples of the plains to kill bison by driving them off the 36 foot high cliff. The Blackfoot drove the bison from a grazing area to the “drive lanes,” lined by hundreds of cairns, by dressing up as coyotes and wolves. These specialized “buffalo runners” were young men trained in animal behavior to guide the bison into the drive lanes. Then, at full gallop, the bison would fall from the weight of the herd pressing behind them, breaking their legs and rendering them immobile. The site was in use at least 6,000 years ago, and the bone deposits are 39 feet deep. After falling off the cliff, the injured bison were finished off by other Blackfoot warriors at the cliff base armed with spears and clubs. The carcasses were then processed at a nearby camp. The bison carcass was used for a variety of purposes, from tools made from the bone, to the hide used to make dwellings and clothing. The importance of the site goes beyond just providing food and supplies. After a successful hunt, the wealth of food allowed the people to enjoy leisure time and pursue artistic and spiritual interests. This increased the cultural complexity of the society.

      Headline in The Onion: Grandma Who Survived Great Depression Casually Drops That She Once Killed Man For Mayonnaise

      The puzzle last Saturday taught us that BANGS, you know, the hairstyle, is called a fringe in England. Fair enough. They are most often cut straight across, but that’s not a requirement. As long as they cover the forehead, they are bangs. This is a young Jane Birkin, a French actress whose style of bangs became known as Birkin Bangs. She passed away recently at the age of 76.

      But never mind all that. Have you heard the expression, “bang on the ear?” It’s Celtic and it means an affectionate kiss or pat on the ear or cheek. This is a beautiful song by The Waterboys that makes good use of it. In lieu of a poem today, here are some of the lyrics.

      Deborah broke my heart and I the willing fool
      I fell for her one summer on the road to Liverpool
      I thought it was forever but it was over in a year
      But I give her my love with a bang on the ear

      The home I made with Bella became a house of pain
      We weathered it together bound by a ball and chain
      Is started up in Fife, and ended up in tears
      But I send her my love with a bang on the ear

      Krista was a rover, from Canada she hailed
      We crossed swords in San Francisco; we both lived to tell the tale
      I don’t know now where she is oh but if I had her here
      I’d give her my love with a bang on the ear

      So my woman of the hearthfire, harbour of my soul
      I watch you lightly sleeping and sense the dream that does unfold (like gold)
      You to me are treasure, you to me are dear
      So I’ll give you my love with a bang on the ear

      It’s good to be back. Tired, though, from the long drive. See you tomorrow.

    8. Sneak Box

      Do you know what a sneak box is? Me neither and it was the name of my ale the other night. Kane’s Sneak Box American Pale Ale, brewed in Ocean NJ.

      It’s a type of boat that’s versatile. Can be rowed, paddled, or poled.

      The puzzle defeated me today. I may be weak since I’m on the road. Couldn’t get AMID for “In.” Couldn’t see “Distinctive mark” was STAMP. Arggggh. Off my game.

      Glad to see this part of MI (Bloomfield Hills) is strong on bagels and corned beef. Jews can live here.

      Dinner at Boneheads BBQ tomw and Celtic music at The Ark in Ann Arbor. Can’t wait!

    9. Indian Ponies

      On Sunday, DJT stated that he’d like to see Greenland owned by the U.S. by the end of his term. Here’s the quote: “For purposes of National Security and Freedom throughout the World, the United States of America feels that the ownership and control of Greenland is an absolute necessity.” Sources close to Trump say he’s 100% serious. Absolute necessity!

      Greenland’s population is around 55,000. It’s the largest island in the world, even larger than Coney Island and Gilligan’s Island. It’s part of the North American continent but is also part of the Kingdom of Denmark, albeit as an autonomous territory. Its citizens are citizens of Denmark as well as European Union citizens. Its capital and largest city is Nuuk. (I know this sounds more like a baby product, but just write it down if it comes up in a puzzle.)

      Greenland is defended militarily by Denmark. It (Denmark) recently announced it has adopted a major defense package. For Greenland’s defense the package includes two elite sled dog teams. So it may not be as easy to overtake it as Trump thinks.

      It’s beautiful out there. I’m looking forward to when we get it.

      These are great pancakes, easy to make. First make some oatmeal. But don’t eat it. You’re not having oatmeal, you’re having pancakes — that’s the whole point.

      Okay, next, in one bowl mix 1/2 cup flour, 1 tsp baking powder, and 1/2 tsp salt.

      In another bowl mix one egg, two tbl butter or oil, 3/4 cup milk, and 1.5 cup of that oatmeal you already made.

      That’s it! Combine the two bowls and make the cakes on your griddle. I like to mix in blueberries which I keep in the freezer, and/or a sliced banana on top. Cinnamon optional, mon.

      This young woman is approaching them cautiously. C’mon, dig in babe. We don’t have all day.

      I am posting this nonsense early today, for we are heading west soon, for our overnight stop in Clarion PA on the way to Michigan.

      This poem will start our day. It’s by James Wright and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s called “A Blessing.”

      Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
      Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
      And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
      Darken with kindness.
      They have come gladly out of the willows
      To welcome my friend and me.
      We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
      Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
      They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
      That we have come.
      They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
      There is no loneliness like theirs.
      At home once more,
      They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
      I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
      For she has walked over to me
      And nuzzled my left hand.
      She is black and white,
      Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
      And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
      That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
      Suddenly I realize
      That if I stepped out of my body I would break
      Into blossom.