August 2026
Books read:
Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell
Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Trails walked:
Yellowstone National Park camping (August 6-9)
Mexico City (Aug 23-31)
Song(s) of the month: Favorite songs about Mexico
August Summary:
This was a very different sort of rambling month. Although my knee seemed better, I didn't want to risk reinjuring it before two big August trips that we had planned. There was lots of walking this month, but no big epic mountain hikes. The month started with a camping trip to Yellowstone with our son, daughter-in-law, and three grandsons. And it ended with my wife and I belatedly celebrating our 45th anniversary in Mexico City, a place we've always wanted to visit. I've described both trips below in more detail.
I was incredibly saddened to hear of the death of Dolly Parton this month. She was the rare celebrity loved by all. She never revealed her politics and many people cynically attributed this to her need to maintain her income and not upset any of her fans, but I think she eschewed politics because she wanted to show us all how none of this nonsense matters. What matters is being a good person and doing good things. And this is what Dolly did her whole life. Although she never revealed her politics, I know exactly where she stood on the topic of climate change. Just look at her 2024 performance at the Academy of County Music Awards where she sang her original song, World on Fire:
Song(s) of the month: Favorite songs about Mexico
Across the Border - Bruce Springsteen
Goodbye - Steve Earle and Emmylou Harris
Across the Borderline - John Hiatt and Flaco Jimenez
Los Laureles - Linda Ronstadt
There are thousands (millions?) of songs about Mexico. But here are four songs that pop up in my playlists a lot. They all have one thing in common: They are all emotionally heartbreaking.
Across the Border - Bruce Springsteen has written some great songs about Mexican immigrants. I'm not sure if this is my favorite one, but it's too beautiful not to include here. Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris recorded an even more beautiful version of the song. Listen to both of them below. Sample lyrics:
Tomorrow my love and I
Will sleep beneath auburn skies
Somewhere across the border
We'll leave behind my dear
The pain and sadness we found here
Goodbye - Steve Earle and Emmylou Harris blend their distinct voices into this live song about loving a place and a person so badly that you can never go back. Sample Lyrics:
I remember holdin on to you
All them long and lonely nights I put you through
Somewhere in there I'm sure I made you cry
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
But I recall all of them nights down in Mexico
One place I may never go in my life again
All them long and lonely nights I put you through
Somewhere in there I'm sure I made you cry
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
But I recall all of them nights down in Mexico
One place I may never go in my life again
Across the Borderline - It was nearly impossible to pick the best version of this song. Willie Nelson's is great also. I ended up with this version because Flaco Jimenez' accordion along with John Hiatt's voice put it on a different level. The song was written in 1982 by Hiatt, Ry Cooder, and Jim Dickenson. Sample lyrics:
Up and down the Rio Grande
A thousand footprints in the sand
Reveal a secret no one can define
The river flows on like a breath
In between our life and death
Tell me who the next to cross the borderline
Los Laureles - Linda Ronstadt's voice is a national treasure. And when she sings in her Spanish roots, well, just listen for yourself. The song is an early 20th century Mexican folk song written by Jose Lopez. Ronstadt brought it back to life in 1987 on her brilliant album Canciones de mi Padre. Do yourself a favor and listen to that entire album. This song just sounds like Mexico to me.
In the beginning the book jumps back and forth between the time when Agnes’ family of three kids are older, around 11 for the twins (Hamnet and Judith) 13 for Susanna; and the time when Agnes first met the love of her life, William Shakespeare, when they were both young. It also goes even further back to when Agnes was just a 3-year-old while her mother died during the birth of Agnes’ brother. The name, William Shakespeare, was never mentioned in the book. He was only the husband or the father or the son or the writer. I’m sure this was purposeful on the author’s part as she wanted the book to focus on Agnes. Agnes had a gift. She could see the future, and she could see the true spirit of a person by pressing her hand on the soft part of someone’s hand, between the thumb and index finger. When she pressed her future husband’s hand, she saw many other worlds and knew that he was special. His family didn’t think the same, as they thought he was lazy and soft. She also knew they would have two children, so when she had twins in her second pregnancy, she was confused. The description of the birth of her twins was harrowing; childbirth was a life and death occasion in the late 1500s. Agnes also had a gift for healing, growing and collecting herbs for her various potions. So, when she couldn’t prevent her young son from dying of the plague, she became lost in her grief even more deeply than most. The book’s chapter on how the plague ended up in Stratford, England from the Mediterranean coast was incredible.
In the end, this was a book about womanhood, motherhood, and grief. You didn’t learn much about Shakespeare and you really don’t need to know much about him or his work. But the final scene, when Agnes travels with her brother to London to see Hamlet for the first time is, well, is something like I’ve never read. Here are some lines:
Here’s how the book began: In the 1580s, a couple living on Henley Street, Stratford, had three children: Susanna, then Hamnet and Judith, who were twins. The boy, Hamnet, died in 1596, aged eleven. Four years or so later, the father wrote a play called Hamlet.
How hard were the bones in the hand of an adult, how tender and soft the flesh of a child, how easy to bend and strain those young, unfinished bones. The doused, drenched feeling of fury, of impotent humiliation, in the long minutes of a beating.
She would not lay the child in a cradle, even at night, but kept her close, the way an animal might.
where is her mother now? Susanna crosses and recrosses her ankles over each other. Traipsing about the countryside, most likely, wading into ponds, gathering weeds, climbing over fences to reach some plant or other, tearing her clothes, muddying her boots. Other mothers of the town will be buttering bread or ladling out stew for their children.
His father is about to turn all this—Agnes’s bleeding face, her arrival here, the kestrel, the baby growing in her belly—to his own good.
What she has always dreaded is here. It has come. The moment she has feared most, the event she has thought about, mulled over, turned this way and that, rehearsed and re-rehearsed in her mind, during the dark of sleepless nights, at moments of idleness, when she is alone. The pestilence has reached her house. It has made its mark around her child’s neck.
It has come to them, Agnes thinks, from a long way off, from a place of rot and wet and confinement. It has cut a swingeing path for itself through humans and beasts and insects alike; it feeds on pain and unhappiness and grief. It is insatiable, unstoppable, the worst, blackest kind of evil.
And there, by the fire, held in the arms of his mother, in the room in which he learnt to crawl, to eat, to walk, to speak, Hamnet takes his last breath. He draws it in, he lets it out. Then there is silence, stillness. Nothing more.
everyone thought the glover’s son would amount to nothing, what a wastrel he had always seemed, and now look at him—a man of consequence in London, it is said,
“There are many who rely on me in London. It is imperative that I return. I cannot just abandon these men who—” “But you may abandon us?”
“You will not bid me farewell?” she says to him. “You will walk away without bidding me goodbye? The woman who bore your children? Who nursed your son through his final breath? Who laid him out for burial? You will walk away from me, without a word?”
Hamlet, here, on this stage, is two people, the young man, alive, and the father, dead. He is both alive and dead. Her husband has brought him back to life, in the only way he can. As the ghost talks, she sees that her husband, in writing this, in taking the role of the ghost, has changed places with his son.
After a cool evening of sleep (well, some sleep anyway), we headed towards the Norris geyser basin to view geysers, hot pools and mudpots. Steamboat geyser is the star attraction even though the last time it erupted was back in February. It’s the tallest geyser in the park and even when it’s not erupting it’s impressive with the steam and boiling water. Many of the pools were beautifully colored with all the different minerals they contained. This turned out to be a 2.1 mile walk with 200 feet of elevation gain. Although the 3 and 6 year old walked most of it, they did get piggyback rides from their very fit parents for part of the way. We then drove out to the Old Faithful Inn and its namesake geyser where we had a nice lunch in this now unaffordable lodge. Rooms were going for $800 a night when we were there. The kids enjoyed the geyser which has erupted on schedule for years now (about every hour and a half). While I was holding the one-year-old he exclaimed, “wow!” when it erupted. We then headed back to camp for a pasta dinner around the campfire (surprisingly campfires were still allowed in the park even with all the smoke and wildfires). We again headed out to Lamar Valley to spot wildlife and ended up having one of those classic Yellowstone moments as a huge herd of bison were moving across and along the road towards their nighttime resting place. It was incredible seeing and hearing these huge animals just inches away from your car. Thankfully nobody got tossed in the air as we were all respectful of their size and numbers.
The next morning, we headed for breakfast at the Canyon Lodge. My daughter-in-law worked as a waitress here 16 years ago, so she wanted to reminisce. Sadly, the restaurant had been turned into a buffet, and everything was unrecognizable to her. She was sad for a bit, until she remembered that she was in Yellowstone National Park! Our eldest grandson stopped by the junior rangers’ office to get his junior ranger badge at the visitor’s center and then we headed up towards Mammoth Hot Springs. We first stopped at Wraith Falls for a 1.0 mile hike where we stopped and played in the creek for a long time. It was the warmest day, so it was a good call. Then we headed for Mammoth Hot Springs with all their yellow wood buildings and got ice cream and root beer floats for sustenance before exploring the hot springs. We ended up walking 2.3 miles with another 400 feet of elevation gain. This time the 6-year-old made it the whole way even if the 3-year-old needed a boost for part of it. The hot springs here are spectacularly beautiful with all kinds of colors. It was a bit windy which was nice for the heat, but we did see lots of lost hats in the hot springs. We headed back to camp after another day of beautiful drives and great hiking. Stopped for pizza at the pizza parlor near out campground before heading back to camp for our last campfire.
We drove straight home on the last day. I decided to take an extra hour and a half and drive through Walden, Colorado rather than fight with I-25 traffic. It was a pretty drive through southern Wyoming between the two Medicine Bow rangers and then east from Walden through the Poudre River Canyon. We didn’t spot any moose, which we sometime do in the Walden area, but the drive was pretty. Got home around 9:30pm, unloaded all the gear, and slept great in our own beds. A very memorable three generation camping trip in America’s first National Park.
Obligatory Wyoming antler arch in Dubois
Grand Tetons rising out of the smoke
Jenny Lake
Jenny Lake in the smoke
Grandkids loved my 50-year-old hammock
See?
Son cooking first night's dinner
Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone
Oldest grandson making everyone nervous
Lower Falls
Walk down to the viewpoint
Enjoying the viewpoint
I can't go any further!
So many pools and hot springs in the Norris Geyser Basin
Steamboat is the largest when it erupts - last time was Feb 2026
True to its name, Old Faithful erupts every 90 minutes
Grandson enjoying animal spotting
So many bison
I liked this ethereal shot
They came so close and made so much noise
Headed up to Wraith Falls
Grandson at Wraith Falls
Cooling off in the creek
A couple of junior rangers at Mammoth Hot Springs
There was a golden tinge to the hot springs today
The fam
So many cool colors and shapes
So strange looking
So otherworldly
Mom and the boys
End of the boardwalk
New Blue Spring
My wife and I at New Blue Spring
Headed back down
Hanging with Nana
Boys tending the fire
Hanging with grandpa
OK, so the novel. How do you sum up a book about a famous opera singer, a Japanese businessman, a multi-lingual translator, a Latin American guerilla group, and a multi-week hostage situation in a paragraph or two? Well, here goes. The Japanese businessman is very successful and has created a huge international corporation, but his true love is opera. An unnamed Latin American country has enticed the businessman to come to their country in hopes of opening up a manufacturing plant there. They entice him by bringing his favorite opera soprano to sing at a birthday party just for him. Other dignitaries from around the world are invited, all in hopes of getting in on the action of a possibly new manufacturing facility and all the infrastructure that it would require. Towards the end of the birthday party all the lights go out, and the place is swarmed by a guerilla group hoping to kidnap the president of the country. Unfortunately for them, the president didn’t attend the party because he wanted to be at his home watching his favorite soap opera. So, the group takes all party-goers hostage (after releasing most of the women and all the party workers). And here begins a sort of Lord of the Flies meets Dog Day Afternoon story. The book is loosely based on an actual hostage crisis that took place in 1996 in Lima Peru at the Japanese Ambassador’s residence.
After several weeks of standoff, the hostages and terrorists begin to form bonds. One of the young guerillas turns out to be a great singer who the opera soprano takes under her wings. Another turns out to be a prodigy chess player and another (a young girl) yearns for an education that she never was able to achieve in her poor home in the jungles. The three generals try to maintain discipline but it’s a lost cause. Some (both hostages and terrorists) start to form romantic bonds. There is a Swiss negotiator who tries to get the negotiations headed in the right direction, but he knows that the government always wins in these situations and it always turns out bad for the terrorists, whose main demands include more money for the poor and the release of political prisoners.
I won’t spoil the dramatic ending, but I will say that you will enjoy this book about the power of love and music. Here are a couple of the reviews that I thought were spot on:
“Patchett’s tragicomic novel—a fantasia of guns and Puccini and Red Cross negotiations—invokes the glorious, unreliable promises of art, politics, and love.” —The New Yorker
“A provocative and enchanting look at the power art has to suspend real life and to create a better world, one in which the differences between people can be erased and the barriers to our best selves can be hurdled.” — Detroit Free Press
Here are some lines:
General Benjamín had no qualms about killing, believing from his own experience that life was nothing more than excruciating suffering.
He knew a little English but only when the words were spoken one at a time and he hadn’t recently been clubbed in the head with a gun.
Never had he thought, never once, that such a woman existed, one who stood so close to God that God’s own voice poured from her. How far she must have gone inside herself to call up that voice.
If what a person wants is his life, he tends to be quiet about wanting anything else.
It was a wonderful blue, the blue used on the dinner plates of kings and the underbreasts of the birds in this very godforsaken jungle.
Even though Gen translated, a clear and simple word-for-word translation, every person in the room understood what she was saying without him, in the same way they would have understood her singing Puccini in Italian.
while they didn’t say which side was to be released, it was clear enough. One could almost tell from the cut of the tuxedo who would be staying.
Even though Thibault was the diplomat, Gen believed that he probably had a better chance of getting what they wanted. It was the difference in their natures. The French had very little experience in being deferential.
She was probably on patrol now, walking up and down the hallways of the second floor with a rifle, conjugating verbs under her breath.
As Messner saw it, it was his job not to hammer out a compromise but merely to steer them clear of a tragedy.
He sang every line, every scale, as if the singing would save his life. He was settling into his own voice now and it was a voice that amazed her. It would have lived and died in a jungle, this voice, if she hadn’t come along to rescue it.
The other tour we took was a small seven-person tour to Teotihuacan where massive pyramids still stand (the Spanish didn’t destroy them because they couldn’t find them behind the dirt and brush). They weren’t “discovered” in the mid-1800s, even though locals knew they were there. The pyramids are breath-taking in more ways than one as we climbed to the top of the Pyramid of the Moon and walked the Valley of the Dead between it and the Pyramid of the Sun. This tour also included a couple of other stops; one to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe church, which receives 20 million visitors a year due to the purported sighting of the Virgin Mary in 1521. We also stopped in the village of San Martin next to the pyramids to watch artisans making jewelry out of the local silver and obsidian; plus, we got a mini tour of the many uses of agave which ended with shots of pulque and tequila made from the local agave. Viva Mexico! We ate lunch at La Higuera in San Martin overlooking the pyramids from their balcony. I had the chicken mole which was very good.
The rest of the time we were on our own in the city, and we walked a LOT of it. Miles and miles. Whenever we tired, we would take an Uber or a taxi or the metro. My wife’s favorite neighborhood was Roma Norte which had tree-lined shops, parks, and restaurants. In Roma Norte we lucked upon Rosetta Panaderia which had wonderful coffee and baked goods. We stopped because the line was so long and we read later that it’s run by one of Mexico City’s most famous chefs. You never know what you’ll run into in this city. My favorite neighborhood was Coyoacan which is the neighborhood Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera lived in. The Casa Azul Museum is a must see not only for its colorful exterior but also for the beautiful courtyard and art of Frida Kahlo. I had to make reservations weeks in advance for this museum. We visited two of the markets in Coyoacan and ate wonderful food at a tiny stall in one market where seven chefs were cooking and prepping food in a space about 4 feet by 10 feet. We also stopped and listened to two young people randomly singing opera in the park. Their voices were beautiful. Other neighborhoods we walked to were Juarez, Condessa, Polanca, and Chapultepec Park which is the Central Park of Mexico City where we visited the National Anthropology Museum which was stunning. In Polanco we found Tacos Juan which specialized in the food of Northern Mexico which tastes very close to the food we grew up on in New Mexico. The charro beans were delicious as were the pork tacos on flour tortillas (as good as my wife’s) and the red chili potatoes.
In our own area where we stayed, we visited the bustling Mercado Merced where you can buy anything you can think of, including female (or male) company for the night. We bought lots of souvenirs here including a baseball cap for me for $2 that says El Viejon on it (old man). We went to the Templo Mayor which shows how this central part of the city is built on top of Aztec ruins. Most of the Spanish colonial buildings are made out of the bricks the Aztecs used to build their cities and pyramids. There is a half mile pedestrian street (Francisco Madero) that leads from the Zocalo to the iconic Palacio de la Belles Artes which is sort of the crown jewel of Mexico City architecture. Inside the building are stunning murals from the country’s best known artists like Diego Rivera. The park next to this building, Alameda Park is the oldest public park in the Americas, established in 1592 and it’s a peaceful oasis from the hustle and bustle of this city.
On the last Sunday of our trip we strolled the Paseo de la Reform which is a major artery in the city that they close down to traffic every week on Sundays between 8am and 2pm. There was a marathon taking place at the same time so there was music and lots of festivities. It was wonderful to walk this paseo with no cars and see up close all the iconic monuments along the way like the Angel of Independence which is sort of like the Statue of Liberty for Mexico.
I almost forgot to say that the reason we came during this week was to see the Rosalia concert. I highlighted her magnificent album Lux in my June blog. We had missed all her US tour dates and saw she was in Mexico City for four shows, so we planned our trip around that. The show was outstanding. Fans were dressed in white dresses and nun’s habits and knew all the words to all of her songs. To get a feel for what the show was like, check out these two links for live versions of Berghain and La Perla.
It’s impossible to describe Mexico City in one short blog post, but I’ll leave you with some of my random memories/impressions and of course with lots of photos:
Entire families on a scooter, nobody wearing helmets
Music blaring on every street
People laughing and having fun everywhere you looked
A few homeless folks sleeping in the street, but not overwhelming.
Uniformed beggars playing organ grinders
Nearly unanimous friendliness
The street vendors carting their huge loads to and from their spots every single day
Motorcycles and scooters flirting with death weaving in and out of traffic
The two young opera singers at the park in Coyoacan
The peacefulness of Casa Azul, Frida Kahlo's home and museum
The nice folks at our hotel, from the 24 hour Cafe to the concierge, to the bellmen and registration desk and the maids…and free beer every evening!
The tour operators aggressively pleading with the tourists
There are entire streets and blocks of streets dedicated to one thing. Like all musical instrument stores for blocks, then all kitchen items, then all quinceniera dresses, etc.
The tiny "kitchen" at Maria Trinidad inside the market in Coyoacan. There were 7 people cooking and preparing plates in a space about 4ft x 10ft. The chefs on The Bear live in luxury compared to this
The thousands of bikes converted into mini portable kitchens by street vendors. Strapped onto the bikes are propane tanks, pots and pans, tables that fold down, small plastic stools for customers, and of course all the ingredients you need to make meals. So inventive.
The jewelry artisan at the village near the pyramids who knew a lot about the NFL. "Ah, Denver! Los Broncos! John Elway!" His favorite team was the Bears and he reeled off the names of the 1985 team
The ushers at the concert escorting each party to their seats in hopes of a tip
Families strolling everywhere, mothers and daughters walking arm in arm
Welcome bottle of mezcal at the hotel
Polanco neighborhood
Chapultepec Park
Monument along Paseo de la Reforma
Angel of Independence (the Statue of Liberty ofMexico)
Paseo de la Reforma on a Sunday
Monument to Cuitláhuac, Inca emporer
Inside murals at Palacio de la Belles Artes
Diego Rivera's mural, God, Creator of the Universe which which Rockefeller had destroyed in NYC due to the inclusion of Vladimir Lenin. Rivera recreated it here in Mexico City
Taco al pastor from El Puma
Our favorite street tacos at El Puma
Market scene
National Metropolitan Cathedral in the Zocalo
The Zocalo getting ready for Independence Day Sept 16
Stairwell inside the post office used in the movie Titanic
Templo Mayor display
The Cathedral from Templo Mayor
Frida Kahlo's kitchen
Frida Kahlo's Casa Azul
Market in Coyoacan
Coyote fountain in Coyoacan
Rococo style church in Coyoacan
Guess where?
Market stall breakfast
Market scene
The presidents of Mexico with one more woman than the US
Display in the Museo de Arte Popular (MAP)
Display in the MAP
Independence Day decorations going up
My wife and I at the Zocalo
The Aztec Sun Stone in the Anthropology Museum
So many beautiful buildings in this city
Tram cars provide the only mass transportation system in the favelas
My wife and I at the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan
Valley of the Dead in Teotihuacan
Guess where?
My wife and I at Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe
Great depiction of Spanish Colonial on top of Aztec ruins
Our hotel surprised us with this
Palacio de la Belles Artes from the LatinAmerica tower observation deck
..and from the ground
Francisco Madero pedestrian walk
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Inside the National Metropolitan Cathedral |
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The mezcal bottle from our hotel - arriving and
departing shots were had |
I suppose the main theme throughout the novel was good vs evil and one’s ability to choose which they will be. The novel tells the story of two families that move to Salinas Valley in California in the early 1900s. The Hamilton family, immigrants from Ireland with their father Samuel who probably best represents good in the novel. And the Trask family, whose son Adam married Cathy Ames and moved with her to the Salinas Valley. Cathy Ames was the epitome of evil in the novel. She is the character that challenges the theory about people having a choice. She seems evil from a young age, when she burned alive her parents in their home, developed a new identity, married Adam Trask as he moved to Salinas and eventually abandoned he and their twin sons to start a bordello in the nearest town.
The character I loved most was Lee, the Chinese servant who was filled with goodness and philosophy. He faked his Chinese accent to appease those who would not want to hear intelligent conversation from an immigrant. It reminded me a bit of the novel James by Percival Everett which sort of retold the story of Jim from the novel Huckleberry Finn. Lee basically raised Adam’s twin sons because Adam was in a state of depression since Cathy left him with two young sons. Lee formed a great friendship with Samuel Hamilton and I could have read about these two for the rest of the novel, but things moved on, Samuel passed away, Adam’s sons eventually found out about their mother and the novel went on to tell about the lives of these two sons.
An epic story about the early 1900s in America, immigration and good vs evil. Here are some lines:
She had a dour Presbyterian mind and a code of morals that pinned down and beat the brains out of nearly everything that was pleasant to do.
Even as a child she had some quality that made people look at her, then look away, then look back at her, troubled at something foreign.
Cathy turned her head very slowly and looked at her mother. Her eyes were expressionless and cold. And suddenly Mrs. Ames was afraid of her daughter.
The Mexican War did two good things though. We got a lot of western land, damn near doubled our size, and besides that it was a training ground for generals, so that when the sad self-murder settled on us the leaders knew the techniques for making it properly horrible.
It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.
some men are friends with the whole world in their hearts, and there are others that hate themselves and spread their hatred around like butter on hot bread.
“Look, Samuel, I mean to make a garden of my land. Remember my name is Adam. So far I’ve had no Eden, let alone been driven out.” “It’s the best reason I ever heard for making a garden,” Samuel exclaimed. He chuckled. “Where will the orchard be?” Adam said, “I won’t plant apples. That would be looking for accidents."
The eyes of Cathy had no message, no communication of any kind. There was nothing recognizable behind them. They were not human eyes.
It was well known that Liza Hamilton and the Lord God held similar convictions on nearly every subject.
Joe was off to college—to that school Leland Stanford had built on his farm near Palo Alto.
Names are a great mystery. I’ve never known whether the name is molded by the child or the child changed to fit the name. But you can be sure of this—whenever a human has a nickname it is a proof that the name given him was wrong.
The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears. I think everyone in the world to a large or small extent has felt rejection. And with rejection comes anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with the crime guilt—and there is the story of mankind.
Aron was content to be a part of his world, but Cal must change it.
We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the never-ending contest in ourselves of good and evil.
Abra got up and put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, and it was the only time such a thing had ever happened in his whole life.
The winter night blew in with frosty wind, and the street lamps with their sputtering carbons swung restlessly and made the shadows dart back and forth like a runner trying to steal second base.
Until next time happy reading and rambling!