Free-Wheel Ferning

Photo of unrolling fern frond, frondlets and frontletlets (from Free Photos)


Elsewhere Other-Engageable

Farnsicht — beautiful black-and-white photograph of ferns by Karl Blossfeldt


Post-Performative Post-Scriptum

“Free-Wheel Ferning” is a pun on the title of core Judas-Priest track “Free-Wheel Burning”, off core Judas-Priest album Defenders of the Faith, issued in core Judas-Priest success-period of 1984.

Palindrought

The alchemists dreamed of turning dross into gold. In mathematics, you can actually do that, metaphorically speaking. If palindromes are gold and non-palindromes are dross, here is dross turning into gold:


22 = 10 + 12
222 = 10 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18 + 19 + 20 + 23 + 24
484 = 10 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18 + 19 + 20 + 21 + 23 + 24 + 25 + 26 + 27 + 28 + 29 + 30 + 31 + 32 + 34
555 = 10 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18 + 19 + 20 + 21 + 23 + 24 + 25 + 26 + 27 + 28 + 29 + 30 + 31 + 32 + 34 + 35 + 36
2002 = nonpalsum(10,67)
36863 = nonpalsum(10,286)
45954 = nonpalsum(10,319)
80908 = nonpalsum(10,423)
113311 = nonpalsum(10,501)
161161 = nonpalsum(10,598)
949949 = nonpalsum(10,1417)
8422248 = nonpalsum(10,4136)
13022031 = nonpalsum(10,5138)
14166141 = nonpalsum(10,5358)
16644661 = nonpalsum(10,5806)
49900994 = nonpalsum(10,10045)
464939464 = nonpalsum(10,30649)
523434325 = nonpalsum(10,32519)
576656675 = nonpalsum(10,34132)
602959206 = nonpalsum(10,34902)
[...]

The palindromes don’t seem to stop arriving. But something unexpected happens when you try to turn gold into gold. If you sum palindromes to get palindromes, you’re soon hit by what you might call a palindrought, where no palindromes appear:


1 = 1
3 = 1 + 2
6 = 1 + 2 + 3
111 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 11 + 22 + 33
353 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 11 + 22 + 33 + 44 + 55 + 66 + 77
7557 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 11 + 22 + 33 + 44 + 55 + 66 + 77 + 88 + 99 + 101 + 111 + 121 + 131 + 141 + 151 + 161 + 171 + 181 + 191 + 202 + 212 + 222 + 232 + 242 + 252 + 262 + 272 + 282 + 292 + 303 + 313 + 323 + 333 + 343 + 353 + 363 + 373 + 383
2376732 = palsum(1,21512)

That’s sequence A046488 at the OEIS. And I suspect that the sequence is complete and that the palindrought never ends. For some evidence of that, here’s an interesting pattern that emerges if you look at palsums of 1 to repdigits 9[…]9:


50045040 = palsum(1,99999)
50045045040 = palsum(1,9999999)
50045045045040 = palsum(1,999999999)
50045045045045040 = palsum(1,99999999999)
50045045045045045040 = palsum(1,9999999999999)
50045045045045045045040 = palsum(1,999999999999999)
50045045045045045045045040 = palsum(1,99999999999999999)
50045045045045045045045045040 = palsum(1,9999999999999999999)
50045045045045045045045045045040 = palsum(1,999999999999999999999)

As the sums get bigger, the carries will stop sweeping long enough and the sums may fall into semi-regular patterns of non-palindromic numbers like 50045040. If you try higher bases like base 909, you get more palindromes by summing palindromes, but a palindrought arrives in the end there too:


1 = palsum(1)
3 = palsum(1,2)
6 = palsum(1,3)
A = palsum(1,4)
[...]
66 = palsum(1,[104]) (palindromes = 43)
LL = palsum(1,[195]) (44)
[37][37] = palsum(1,[259]) (45)
[73][73] = palsum(1,[364]) (46)
[114][114] = palsum(1,[455]) (47)
[172][172] = palsum(1,[559]) (48)
[369][369] = palsum(1,[819]) (49)
6[466]6 = palsum(1,[104][104]) (50)
L[496]L = palsum(1,[195][195]) (51)
[37][528][37] = palsum(1,[259][259]) (52)
[73][600][73] = palsum(1,[364][364]) (53)
[114][682][114] = palsum(1,[455][455]) (54)
[172][798][172] = palsum(1,[559][559]) (55)
[291][126][291] = palsum(1,[726][726]) (56)
[334][212][334] = palsum(1,[778][778]) (57)
[201][774][830][774][201] = palsum(1,[605][707][605]) (58)
[206][708][568][708][206] = palsum(1,[613][115][613]) (59)
[456][456][569][569][456][456] = palsum(1,11[455]11) (60)
22[456][454][456]22 = palsum(1,21012) (61)

Note the palindrome for palsum(1,21012). All odd bases higher than 3 seem to produce a palindrome for 1 to 21012 in that base (21012 in base 5 = 1382 in base 10, 2012 in base 7 = 5154 in base 10, and so on):


2242422 = palsum(1,21012) (base=5)
2253522 = palsum(1,21012) (b=7)
2275722 = palsum(1,21012) (b=11)
2286822 = palsum(1,21012) (b=13)
2297922 = palsum(1,21012) (b=15)
22A8A22 = palsum(1,21012) (b=17)
22B9B22 = palsum(1,21012) (b=19)
22CAC22 = palsum(1,21012) (b=21)
22DBD22 = palsum(1,21012) (b=23)

And here’s another interesting pattern created by summing squares in base 9 (where 17 = 16 in base 10, 40 = 36 in base 10, and so on):


1 = squaresum(1)
5 = squaresum(1,4)
33 = squaresum(1,17)
111 = squaresum(1,40)
122221 = squaresum(1,4840)
123333321 = squaresum(1,503840)
123444444321 = squaresum(1,50483840)
123455555554321 = squaresum(1,5050383840)
123456666666654321 = squaresum(1,505048383840)
123456777777777654321 = squaresum(1,50505038383840)
123456788888888887654321 = squaresum(1,5050504838383840)

Then a palindrought strikes again. But you don’t get a palindrought in the triangular numbers, or numbers created by summing the integers, palindromic and non-palindromic alike:


1 = 1
3 = 1 + 2
6 = 1 + 2 + 3
55 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10
66 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11
171 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18
595 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18 + 19 + 20 + 21 + 22 + 23 + 24 + 25 + 26 + 27 + 28 + 29 + 30 + 31 + 32 + 33 + 34
666 = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15 + 16 + 17 + 18 + 19 + 20 + 21 + 22 + 23 + 24 + 25 + 26 + 27 + 28 + 29 + 30 + 31 + 32 + 33 + 34 + 35 + 36
3003 = palsum(1,77)
5995 = palsum(1,109)
8778 = palsum(1,132)
15051 = palsum(1,173)
66066 = palsum(1,363)
617716 = palsum(1,1111)
828828 = palsum(1,1287)
1269621 = palsum(1,1593)
1680861 = palsum(1,1833)
3544453 = palsum(1,2662)
5073705 = palsum(1,3185)
5676765 = palsum(1,3369)
6295926 = palsum(1,3548)
35133153 = palsum(1,8382)
61477416 = palsum(1,11088)
178727871 = palsum(1,18906)
1264114621 = palsum(1,50281)
1634004361 = palsum(1,57166)
5289009825 = palsum(1,102849)
6172882716 = palsum(1,111111)
13953435931 = palsum(1,167053)
16048884061 = palsum(1,179158)
30416261403 = palsum(1,246642)
57003930075 = palsum(1,337650)
58574547585 = palsum(1,342270)
66771917766 = palsum(1,365436)
87350505378 = palsum(1,417972)
[...]

If 617716 = palsum(1,1111) and 6172882716 = palsum(1,111111), what is palsum(1,11111111)? Try it for yourself — there’s an easy formula for the triangular numbers.

Fourtoshiki

I hadn’t realized that sudokus could be witty until earlier this year, when I did one that literally made me laugh, because the solutions were so clever and quirky. Foolishly, I neglected to make a note of the sudoku so I could reproduce it. But I haven’t made that mistake with this futoshiki:

Using more-than and less-than signs to deduce values, fill each line and column with the numbers 1 to 5 so that no number occurs twice in the same row or column

It’s not witty like that lost sudoku, but I think futoshikis are even more beautiful and enjoyable than sudokus, because they’re even more elemental. They’re also rooted in the magic of binary, thanks to the more-than / less-than clues. And when there’s only one number on the original grid, completing them feels like growing a flower from a seed.

The Glamor of Gamma

The factorial function, n!, is easy to understand. You simply take an integer and multiply it by all integers smaller than it (by convention, 0! = 1):

0! = 1
1! = 1
2! = 2 = 2*1
3! = 6 = 3*2*1
4! = 24 = 4*3*2*1
5! = 120 = 5*4*3*2*1
6! = 720 = 6*120 = 6*5!
7! = 5040
8! = 40320
9! = 362880
10! = 3628800
11! = 39916800
12! = 479001600
13! = 6227020800
14! = 87178291200
15! = 1307674368000
16! = 20922789888000
17! = 355687428096000
18! = 6402373705728000
19! = 121645100408832000
20! = 2432902008176640000

The gamma function, Γ(n), isn’t so easy to understand. It allows you to find the factorials of not just the integers, but everything between the integers, like fractions, square roots, and transcendental numbers like π. Don’t ask me how! And don’t ask me how you get this very beautiful and unexpected result:

Γ(1/2) = √π = 1.77245385091...

But a blog called Mathematical Enchantments can tell you more:

The Square Root of Pi


Post-Performative Post-Scriptum

glamour | glamor, n. Originally Scots, introduced into the literary language by Scott. A corrupt form of grammar n.; for the sense compare gramarye n. (and French grimoire ), and for the form glomery n. 1. Magic, enchantment, spell; esp. in the phrase to cast the glamour over one. 2. a. A magical or fictitious beauty attaching to any person or object; a delusive or alluring charm. b. Charm; attractiveness; physical allure, esp. feminine beauty; frequently attributive colloquial (originally U.S.). — Oxford English Dictionary

Russell in Your Head-Roe (Re-Visited)

“Ordinary language is totally unsuited for expressing what physics really asserts, since the words of everyday life are not sufficiently abstract. Only mathematics and mathematical logic can say as little as the physicist means to say.” — Bertrand Russell, The Scientific Outlook (1931)


Previously pre-posted

Russell in Your Head-Roe — Bertrand Russell on mathematics
A Ladd Inane — Bertrand Russell on solipsism
Math Matters — Bertrand Russell on math and physics
Whip Poor Wilhelm — Bertrand Russell on Friedrich Nietzsche

Farnsicht

Photo of developing ferns by the German nature photographer Karl Blossfeldt (1866-1932)
(open in new window for full image)


Post-Performative Post-Scriptum

“Farnsicht” is a pun on German Farn, meaning “fern”, and Fernsicht, meaning “view” or “visibility” (literally fern, “far”, + Sicht, “visibility”).

Z-Fall

Do you want a haunting literary image? You’ll find one of the strangest and strongest in Borges’ “La Biblioteca de Babel” (1941), which is narrated by a librarian in an infinite library. The librarian anticipates the end of his life:

Muerto, no faltarán manos piadosas que me tiren por la baranda; mi sepultura será el aire insondable; mi cuerpo se hundirá largamente y se corromperá y disolverá en el viento engenerado por la caída, que es infinita. — “La Biblioteca de Babel

When I am dead, compassionate hands will throw me over the railing; my tomb will be the unfathomable air, my body will sink for ages, and will decay and dissolve in the wind engendered by my fall, which shall be infinite. — “The Library of Babel” (translation by Andrew Hurley)

The infinite fall is the haunting image. Falling is powerful; falling for ever is more powerful still. But it can’t happen in reality: soon or later a fall has to end. Objects crash to earth or splash into the ocean. Of course, you could call being in orbit a kind of infinite fall, but it doesn’t have the same power.

However, there’s more kinds of falling than one and I think the arithmophile Borges would have liked one of the other kinds a lot. Numbers can fall — you sum their digits, take the sum from the original number, and repeat. That is, n = n – digsum(n). Here are some examples:


10 → 9 → 0
100 → 99 → 81 → 72 → 63 → 54 → 45 → 36 → 27 → 18 → 9 → 0
1000 → 999 → 972 → 954 → 936 → 918 → 900 → 891 → 873 → 855 → 837 → 819 → 801 → 792 → 774 → 756 → 738 → 720 → 711 → 702 → 693 → 675 → 657 → 639 → 621 → 612 → 603 → 594 → 576 → 558 → 540 → 531 → 522 → 513 → 504 → 495 → 477 → 459 → 441 → 432 → 423 → 414 → 405 → 396 → 378 → 360 → 351 → 342 → 333 → 324 → 315 → 306 → 297 → 279 → 261 → 252 → 243 → 234 → 225 → 216 → 207 → 198 → 180 → 171 → 162 → 153 → 144 → 135 → 126 → 117 → 108 → 99 → 81 → 72 → 63 → 54 → 45 → 36 → 27 → 18 → 9 → 0

The details are different in other bases, like 2 or 16, but the destination is the same. The number falls to zero and the fall stops, because digsum(0) = 0:


102 → 1 → 0 (n=2)
100 → 11 → 1 → 0 (n=4)
1000 → 111 → 100 → 11 → 1 → 0 (n=8)
10000 → 1111 → 1011 → 1000 → 111 → 100 → 11 → 1 → 0 (n=16)
100000 → 11111 → 11010 → 10111 → 10011 → 10000 → 1111 → 1011 → 1000 → 111 → 100 → 11 → 1 → 0 (n=32)
1000000 → 111111 → 111001 → 110101 → 110001 → 101110 → 101010 → 100111 → 100011 → 100000 → 11111 → 11010 → 10111 → 10011 → 10000 → 1111 → 1011 → 1000 → 111 → 100 → 11 → 1 → 0 (n=64)


1013 → C → 0 (n=13)
100 → CC → B1 → A2 → 93 → 84 → 75 → 66 → 57 → 48 → 39 → 2A → 1B → C → 0 (n=169)
1000 → CCC → CA2 → C84 → C66 → C48 → C2A → C0C → BC1 → BA3 → B85 → B67 → B49 → B2B → B10 → B01 → AC2 → AA4 → A86 → A68 → A4A → A2C → A11 → A02 → 9C3 → 9A5 → 987 → 969 → 94B → 930 → 921 → 912 → 903 → 8C4 → 8A6 → 888 → 86A → 84C → 831 → 822 → 813 → 804 → 7C5 → 7A7 → 789 → 76B → 750 → 741 → 732 → 723 → 714 → 705 → 6C6 → 6A8 → 68A → 66C → 651 → 642 → 633 → 624 → 615 → 606 → 5C7 → 5A9 → 58B → 570 → 561 → 552 → 543 → 534 → 525 → 516 → 507 → 4C8 → 4AA → 48C → 471 → 462 → 453 → 444 → 435 → 426 → 417 → 408 → 3C9 → 3AB → 390 → 381 → 372 → 363 → 354 → 345 → 336 → 327 → 318 → 309 → 2CA → 2AC → 291 → 282 → 273 → 264 → 255 → 246 → 237 → 228 → 219 → 20A → 1CB → 1B0 → 1A1 → 192 → 183 → 174 → 165 → 156 → 147 → 138 → 129 → 11A → 10B → CC → B1 → A2 → 93 → 84 → 75 → 66 → 57 → 48 → 39 → 2A → 1B → C → 0 (n=2197)

But the fall to 0 made me think of another kind of number-fall. What if you count the 0s in a number, take that count away from the original number, and repeat? You could call this a z-fall (pronounced zee-fall). But unlike free-fall, z-fall doesn’t last long:


10 → 9
100 → 98
1000 → 997
10000 → 9996

And the number always comes to rest far above the ground, as it were. In a fall using digsum(n), the number descends to 0. In a fall using zerocount(n), the number never even reaches 1. At least, never in any base higher than 2. But in base-2, you get this:


10 → 1 (n=2)
100 → 10 → 1 (n=4)
1000 → 101 → 100 → 10 → 1 (n=8)
10000 → 1100 → 1010 → 1000 → 101 → 100 → 10 → 1 (n=16)
100000 → 11011 → 11010 → 11000 → 10101 → 10011 → 10001 → 1110 → 1101 → 1100 → 1010 → 1000 → 101 → 100 → 10 → 1 (n=32)
1000000 → 111010 → 111000 → 110101 → 110011 → 110001 → 101110 → 101100 → 101001 → 100110 → 100011 → 100000 → 11011 → 11010 → 11000 → 10101 → 10011 → 10001 → 1110 → 1101 → 1100 → 1010 → 1000 → 101 → 100 → 10 → 1 (n=64)

When I saw that, I had a wonderful vision of how even the biggest numbers in base 2 could z-fall all the way to 1. Almost all binary numbers contain 0, after all. So the z-falls would get longer and longer, paying tribute to la caída infinita, the infinite fall, of the librarian in Borges’ Library of Babel. Alas, binary numbers don’t behave like that. The highest number in base 2 that z-falls to 1 is this:


1010001 → 1001101 → 1001010 → 1000110 → 1000010 → 111101 → 111100 → 111010 → 111000 → 110101 → 110011 → 110001 → 101110 → 101100 → 101001 → 100110 → 100011 → 100000 → 11011 → 11010 → 11000 → 10101 → 10011 → 10001 → 1110 → 1101 → 1100 → 1010 → 1000 → 101 → 100 → 10 → 1 (n=81)

Above that, binary numbers land on what you might call a shelf:


1010010=82 → 1001110=78 → 1001011=75 → 1001000=72 → 1000011=67 → 111111=63 (n=82)

If binary numbers are an infinite tall mountain, 1 is at the foot of the mountain. 111111 = 63 is like a shelf a little way above the foot. But I conjecture that arbitrarily large binary numbers will z-fall to 63. For example, no matter how large the power of 2, I conjecture that it will z-fall to 63:


10 → 1 : 2 → 1 (count of steps=2)
100 ... → 1 : 4 ... → 1 (c=3)
1000 ... → 1 : 8 ... → 1 (c=5)
10000 ... → 1 : 16 ... → 1 (c=8)
100000 ... → 1 : 32 ... → 1 (c=16)
1000000 ... → 1 : 64 ... → 1 (c=27)
10000000 ... → 111111 : 128 ... → 63 (c=21)
100000000 ... → 111111 : 256 ... → 63 (c=60)
1000000000 ... → 111111 : 512 ... → 63 (c=130)
10000000000 ... → 111111 : 1024 ... → 63 (c=253)
100000000000 ... → 111111 : 2048 ... → 63 (c=473)
1000000000000 ... → 111111 : 4096 ... → 63 (c=869)
10000000000000 ... → 111111 : 8192 ... → 63 (c=1586)
100000000000000 ... → 111111 : 16384 ... → 63 (c=2899)
1000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 32768 ... → 63 (c=5327)
10000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 65536 ... → 63 (c=9851)
100000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 131072 ... → 63 (c=18340)
1000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 262144 ... → 63 (c=34331)
10000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 524288 ... → 63 (c=64559)
100000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 1048576 ... → 63 (c=121831)
1000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 2097152 ... → 63 (c=230573)
10000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 4194304 ... → 63 (c=437435)
100000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 8388608 ... → 63 (c=831722)
1000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 16777216 ... → 63 (c=1584701)
10000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 33554432 ... → 63 (c=3025405)
100000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 67108864 ... → 63 (c=5787008)
1000000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 134217728 ... → 63 (c=11089958)
10000000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 268435456 ... → 63 (c=21290279)
100000000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 536870912 ... → 63 (c=40942711)
1000000000000000000000000000000 ... → 111111 : 1073741824 ... → 63 (c=78864154)

So the z-falls get longer and longer. But z-falling to 63 doesn’t have the power of z-falling to 1.

Period Panes

In The Penguin Dictionary of Curious and Interesting Numbers (1987), David Wells remarks that 142857 is “a number beloved of all recreational mathematicians”. He then explains that it’s “the decimal period of 1/7: 1/7 = 0·142857142857142…” and “the first decimal reciprocal to have maximum period, that is, the length of its period is only one less than the number itself.”

Why does this happen? Because when you’re calculating 1/n, the remainders can only be less than n. In the case of 1/7, you get remainders for all integers less than 7, i.e. there are 6 distinct remainders and 6 = 7-1:

(1*10) / 7 = 1 remainder 3, therefore 1/7 = 0·1...
(3*10) / 7 = 4 remainder 2, therefore 1/7 = 0·14...
(2*10) / 7 = 2 remainder 6, therefore 1/7 = 0·142...
(6*10) / 7 = 8 remainder 4, therefore 1/7 = 0·1428...
(4*10) / 7 = 5 remainder 5, therefore 1/7 = 0·14285...
(5*10) / 7 = 7 remainder 1, therefore 1/7 = 0·142857...
(1*10) / 7 = 1 remainder 3, therefore 1/7 = 0·1428571...
(3*10) / 7 = 4 remainder 2, therefore 1/7 = 0·14285714...
(2*10) / 7 = 2 remainder 6, therefore 1/7 = 0·142857142...

Mathematicians know that reciprocals with maximum period can only be prime reciprocals and with a little effort you can work out whether a prime will yield a maximum period in a particular base. For example, 1/7 has maximum period in bases 3, 5, 10, 12 and 17:

1/21 = 0·010212010212010212... in base 3
1/12 = 0·032412032412032412... in base 5
1/7 =  0·142857142857142857... in base 10
1/7 =  0·186A35186A35186A35... in base 12
1/7 =  0·274E9C274E9C274E9C... in base 17

To see where else 1/7 has maximum period, have a look at this graph:

Period pane for primes 3..251 and bases 2..39


I call it a “period pane”, because it’s a kind of window into the behavior of prime reciprocals. But what is it, exactly? It’s a graph where the x-axis represents primes from 3 upward and the y-axis represents bases from 2 upward. The red squares along the bottom aren’t part of the graph proper, but indicate primes that first occur after a power of two: 5 after 4=2^2; 11 after 8=2^3; 17 after 16=2^4; 37 after 32=2^5; 67 after 64=2^6; and so on.

If a prime reciprocal has maximum period in a particular base, the graph has a solid colored square. Accordingly, the purple square at the bottom left represents 1/7 in base 10. And as though to signal the approval of the goddess of mathematics, the graph contains a lower-case b-for-base, which I’ve marked in green. Here are more period panes in higher resolution (open the images in a new window to see them more clearly):

Period pane for primes 3..587 and bases 2..77


Period pane for primes 3..1303 and bases 2..152


An interesting pattern has begun to appear: note the empty lanes, free of reciprocals with maximum period, that stretch horizontally across the period panes. These lanes are empty because there are no prime reciprocals with maximum period in square bases, that is, bases like 4, 9, 25 and 36, where 4 = 2*2, 9 = 3*3, 25 = 5*5 and 36 = 6*6. I don’t know why square bases don’t have max-period prime reciprocals, but it’s probably obvious to anyone with more mathematical nous than me.

Period pane for primes 3..2939 and bases 2..302


Period pane for primes 3..6553 and bases 2..602


Like the Ulam spiral, other and more mysterious patterns appear in the period panes, hinting at the hidden regularities in the primes.

Bent Pent

This is a beautiful and interesting shape, reminiscent of a piece of jewellery:

Pentagons in a ring


I came across it in this tricky little word-puzzle:

Word puzzle using pentagon-ring


Here’s a printable version of the puzzle:

Printable puzzle


Let’s try placing some other regular polygons with s sides around regular polygons with s*2 sides:

Hexagonal ring of triangles


Octagonal ring of squares


Decagonal ring of pentagons


Dodecagonal ring of hexagons


Only regular pentagons fit perfectly, edge-to-edge, around a regular decagon. But all these polygonal-rings can be used to create interesting and beautiful fractals, as I hope to show in a future post.