| || bulky, sniff, harder, paddle, (a) has "bean".
Image from the Internet, caption by Owen.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
7 comments:
Today's subject cannot be said to be a Jazz fiend.
~ OMK
I had trouble with the third item and came to see if Owen's poem might help. Sorry not to find his posting this morning--hope all is okay with you, Owen. I kept trying and trying and finally gave up and looked it up, along with the solution, which I would probably never have gotten. Never heard the expression "washed-up" to describe someone. And thought the solution was a little silly. Still, clever cartoon drawing.
When a baseball player loses his fastball and starts to get smacked around he's called a washed up has been.
#3 was so difficult, nor were 1,2,4 any harder.
In fact, here's a poem that might help
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a bulky man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He works hard as he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Sniff from the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the paddles roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
Wilburforce Halefellow
Wilbur: Congrats on re-purposing that poem! You got 3-1/2 words in there, and the 1/2 clue and solution in your preamble comments! That's using the old bean, buddy!
Had a doctor appointment today. The first time I've been out of the house in a couple months. Added to being cooped up for 4 months this past winter, I've developed agoraphobia rather severely. I worried about that, and the logistics of getting there, and what the doc would say or do, all thru the night. Got about 2-1/2 stanzas into a poem (about a coffee-bean smuggler), decided it was crap, and deleted it. Brenda arranged for a neighbor to drive (I could have driven myself) and help with the wheelchair. Things went smoothly enough, but I was a mess. Could hardly stand up from the chair and take a step, which was a lot weaker than normal. All psychological, but even being utterly sure of that didn't make it any less real.
Sandy, thanks for the email about NOLA newspaper changing hands. I tried it Sunday from my bookmark and got a 404, but assumed it was just a temporary glitch. There are plenty of other sites, but I'll have to dig a bit to find a good one. I spent all day during waiting moments trying to figure out how to reply on the dang-blasted new dumb-bunny phone, and still haven't succeeded!
Owen, I'm glad you're back safe and sound.
I knew I couldn't come up with an original so I tried an old faithful. I always loved that poem.
We used to have a "Diff" app on vax-vms where you could find the difference between two files. Thus the words would've popped out.
And.. I've never yet seen trash from your pen. In fact I've always particularly liked a lot of your C's
WC
Wilbur!
Wow. I hope you cut-and-pasted, as that is an epic share!
I had an old 78rpm , both tales of blacksmithsrecord of the actor Paul Douglas reciting The Village Smithy. I loved that piece. The other side was Down in the Lehi Valley--both tales of blacksmiths.
Owen ~ Agoraphobia is pretty common with advancing years. I have it too and need to fight it when I must leave the house. It makes sense when you weigh it. We forget that as children we never really wanted to leave the nest. It takes accustoming to get used to leaving home, to actually look forward to it. As we get older, we have fewer occasions to go out, so that when we do, it becomes a bigger deal. Often when we do, it's for doctors' appts--just like yours. Not necessarily the happiest reason to travel.
I find it is easier to go out if my wife is coming too. When a friend invites me on my own, I will admit to the phobia--and am not surprised to hear they have it too.
What is really nice is to have people visit me. As a retired professor, it is one of my real blessings.
~ OMK
Owen, Sorry, I haven't "jumbled" today.
Very sorry especially to hear of your difficulties today. I stick pretty close to home myself these days.
Just fyi I have more or less migrated to the Chicago Tribune site. It's working out.
I like doing the jumble online when I can because it's easier than on paper.
Take care of yourself.
Post a Comment