February 9, 2026

NYT Connections Hint - February 9, 2026

Heyyy, my favorite word nerds! 🧵 I’m writing this with a cup of cinnamon coffee and the tiniest thread of yarn stuck to my sleeve—because today’s Connections had me stitching, shuffling, and straight-up salary-daydreaming at my keyboard. Ever have one of those grids that looks softer than it bites? I stared at LOOM for a solid minute wondering if it was about impending doom (thanks, brain) before my inner crafter kicked in. If you’re here to commiserate, celebrate, or just steal a few sneaky hints—pull up a chair. Let’s untangle this thing together!

Word Explanations

  • APPROACH

    • APPROACH is that first step onto the dance floor—whether you’re tiptoeing toward a crush or mapping a mountain trail. I personally hear my old coach yelling “Approach the ball!” every time I see it. Verb, noun, lifeline.

  • BONUS

    • BONUS feels like finding twenty bucks in a winter coat, except sometimes it’s a crisp email from your boss. Back when I sold textbooks, quarterly bonuses meant celebratory tacos—still can’t hear the word without smelling cumin.

  • POKER

    • POKER—the game, the face, the fireplace tool. I’ve never mastered the bluff; my cheeks go rogue tomato. Fun fact: the name likely comes from the German pochen, “to knock,” which is exactly what my knees do under pressure.

  • NEEDLE

    • NEEDLE: the tiniest nag, the tiniest sword, the hero of every hem. My mom swore sewing needles migrate to carpet in pairs—step on one, its twin is waiting nearby like a prank.

  • STRAWS

    • STRAWS—those humble soda highways or the deciders of destiny when you “draw” them. I once lost dish duty for a week thanks to the long straw; my roommate still calls it the last fair election we held.

  • LOOM

    • LOOM makes me picture giant wooden wings in a mill, threads humming like low cello strings. Metaphorically, it’s also the storm cloud over your to-do list—same word, wildly different vibes. English is wild, huh?

  • STYLE

    • STYLE: the haircut you swear nobody else could pull off (they probably could), the way you sign your name with an unnecessary flourish. My personal style icon? My cat—she rocks the same gray fur daily and still turns heads.

  • ADVANCE

    • ADVANCE can be gallant (“May I advance you a compliment?”) or corporate (“Here’s your chunk of money—now finish the book!”). Either way, it’s forward motion, sometimes with strings, always with hope.

  • NEAR

    • NEAR—so close you can hear heartbeats or smell rain on concrete. I love how its meaning collapses distance; say “draw near” out loud and watch an invisible circle tighten around whoever’s listening.

  • WAY

    • WAY: the path, the technique, the existential highway. I once got lost following a “scenic route” sign—turns out my way was just wrong turns and cows. Still counts as a way, right?

  • SCISSORS

    • SCISSORS—childhood’s forbidden roller-coaster sword, adulthood’s “where did I put them” mystery. Apparently, left-handed scissors only became common in the ’60s; prior to that, lefties just silently suffered blunt trauma.

  • FEE

    • FEE sounds so official, like a tiny tuxedoed word collecting tolls at a semantic bridge. Yet it sneaks into everyday life—ATM fees, late fees, “I forgot to cancel the free trial” fees… my bank account senses its approach like seismic tremors.

  • ROYALTY

    • ROYALTY: crowns, castles—and, apparently, quarterly checks for creatives. Ever notice how both the palace and the publisher wear velvet jackets in our minds? Coincidence? I think not.

  • YARN

    • YARN isn’t just fiber; it’s story fuel—campfire tall tales, meandering phone calls, grandma’s epic sagas while she knits. Bonus: if you’re a cat owner, yarn doubles as household confetti you’ll find for months.

  • MANNER

    • MANNER walks in holding a teacup, pinky possibly raised, but it can also roll up sleeves and get pragmatic. I picture it as the twins: etiquette-Manner and method-Manner taking turns wearing the same sweater.

  • THE LINE

    • THE LINE—where you wait, where you divide, where you refuse to cross. At concerts I’m terrible at holding my spot; one bathroom trip and I’ve lost three feet of concrete like an embarrassed tide.

Theme Hints

  1. USED IN WEAVING

    • Think Sunday-morning craft-table vibes—what would Grandma reach for when she mutters, “I need to make another blanket”?

  2. METHOD

    • When your roadmap, attitude, and flair all merge into one synonym salad.

  3. KINDS OF PAYMENT FOR AN AUTHOR

    • Follow the money trail that keeps writers fed beyond the glory of glossy headshots.

  4. DRAW ___

    • What might a cartoon cowboy yank from a deck, a pile, or his own patience?

Answers Explanation

Click to reveal answers!
  1. USED IN WEAVING

    :LOOM,NEEDLE,SCISSORS,YARN
    • These are the quiet heroes of any cozy craft corner: YARN is the painter’s pigment, NEEDLE the brush, SCISSORS the decisive editor, and LOOM the whole studio rolled into one. I still remember the lopsided scarf I “wove” in fifth grade—my mom wore it like a medal anyway. Together they scream textile DIY, whether you’re knitting socks or just fantasizing about knitting socks while binge-watching period dramas.

  2. METHOD

    :APPROACH,MANNER,STYLE,WAY
    • APPROACH, MANNER, STYLE, and WAY are basically the four interchangeable musketeers of English: slap any of them after “in a…“ and the sentence still struts. I love how they feel like different shoes for the same walk—boots, sneakers, stilettos, flip-flops—same sidewalk, totally different swagger. If crossword clues had a fan club, these four would be lifetime presidents.

  3. KINDS OF PAYMENT FOR AN AUTHOR

    :ADVANCE,BONUS,FEE,ROYALTY
    • Authors don’t just sip lattes and wait for magic; they hustle for ADVANCES (the publisher’s IOU), BONUSES (the surprise “you hit list!” bouquet), FEES (freelance bread-and-butter), and ROYALTIES (the gift that keeps on giving, like a literary dividend). Fun fact: royalty checks can arrive so randomly my novelist friend uses hers as random pizza-fund roulette—she never knows if she’s buying slices or the whole pie.

  4. DRAW ___

    :NEAR,POKER,STRAWS,THE LINE
    • We’re literally “drawing” here—DRAW STRAWS for who takes out trash, DRAW NEAR for campfire closeness, DRAW POKER for smoky back-room tension, and DRAW THE LINE for the moment you slam the emotional brakes. I always picture a cartoon hand pulling each phrase out of a top hat like endless scarves—presto, cliché magic!

I’m sitting here with yarn fuzz on my hoodie and the word ROYALTY still dancing in my head like a tiny gold crown—today’s grid was sneaky-quiet, no fireworks, just four little dominoes that clicked perfectly when I stopped trying to be brilliant and just listened to the words. (Okay, I still mumbled “DRAW STRAWS” out loud in the grocery-store line—no regrets.) If you felt the same slow-build satisfaction, high-five through the screen. If you’re glaring at the screen because LOOM refused to reveal itself until the final second, I’ve been there—tomorrow’s pink squares will heal us. Until then, keep your needles threaded, your metaphors mixed, and your coffee strong. See you for the next tangle!