It's the berries, mate

For years I’ve found the fruit you get in the local supermarkets tasteless. With the exception of apples, oranges, grapes and sometimes cherries, everything (especially stone fruit) has the consistency of concrete chunks, the juice of a tax form and the taste of cardboard.

This usually includes berries. Occasionally you can find blueberries that don’t feel and taste like little balls of paste. And since all strawberries now seem to come from Driscoll, they’re gigantic, hard replicas of berries with no fragrance or taste.

So this summer I signed up for a CSA from a farm in Pennsylvania. So far, I’ve had two deliveries, both of which included strawberries. (The first one also had peaches, which frankly were indistinguishable from what I could find at Wegman’s—if they don’t smell like peaches, they won’t taste like peaches. The second had a clamshell of cherry plums, which were mildly flavorful, but of course they journeyed from South Carolina to Pennsylvania and then to the People’s Republic. The CSA farm did notify customers that it’s been a rocky year for fruit and they’d be supplementing their supplies with items from elsewhere.)

Those strawberries, though—they were the absolute berries (if I may be so bold.) Small, intensely flavored, richly crimson. They absolutely exploded with flavor. The first time in years I haven’t had to sprinkle sugar on a bowl to entice any taste out of them.

See what I mean?

Just a tiny slurp of Cointreau to macerate these babies:

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: the scent of summer

We had three gardenia bushes in the house where I grew up in Southern California. We also had no air conditioning, so on summer nights my bedroom windows were open. Even though I was at the front of the house, I could still catch the scent of the gardenias. It was heavenly.

About seven or eight years ago, I bought a little gardenia shrub and planted it in a pot in my back yard. It’s not an ideal situation for it—that area gets only scattered bouts of direct sun seven months out of the year, due to all the trees around me. But that little trouper has hung on, even though it took a bit of a hit during the snowcrete days we had earlier this year.

Although it doesn’t give me weeks of scented evenings, I’m still grateful for the flowers it produces for me. Gardenias mean summer to me.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

I feel like freedom

Juneteenth has been a federal holiday since 2021; forward-thinking organizations began marking it in the wake of the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis cops. One, Derek Chauvin, shoved his knee to Floyd’s throat for nearly 10 minutes, while his colleagues watched.

(Chauvin was subsequently tried for the murder—after considerable shenanigans by the Minneapolis police department and massive nationwide protests. He’s currently serving his sentence of 22.5 years. Even SCOTUS denied his appeal. However, last week Minneapolis Republicans observed a “moment of silence” for him at their state convention. He could still get a pardon or commutation via pressure from the White House, just as Colorado governor Jared Polis pardoned Tina Peters. Justice, man…)

If you’re unclear about Juneteenth, it commemorates the day in 1865 when news arrived in Galveston with Union troops that the end of the War Between the States meant emancipation for slaves across the country. The Emancipation Proclamation, which the victory at Antietam in September of 1862 made possible, outlawed slavery in all territories then in rebellion against the United States. However, as you might imagine, the Confederates basically said, “Yeah, and?” and got on with their slaving business for another two years. Two months after the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox Court House, the “and” question was answered in Texas.

We all know that we have yet to fulfill the promise of emancipation; for that matter, we have yet to fulfill the ideals of a more perfect union, equal justice, domestic tranquility, general welfare and the blessings of liberty. But Juneteenth reminds us that, even when we can’t see the full arc of the moral universe, we feel it in our consciences and we are obligated to do our part to ensure that it bends toward justice.

For that reason, Republicans up and down the spectrum are grumbling and scuffing their toes in the dirt (as they do on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day), pissed off at the reminder that they actually lost that war and that the Thirteenth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the Constitution exist. (Even if SCOTUS can’t seem to find them.)

However, those of us with a working conscience and a moral compass that isn’t permanently stuck on terror-fueled racism can take a few moments today to consider how emancipation enriches everyone, because humanity is not actually a zero-sum game.

In honor of Juneteenth, here’s musical prodigy Jon Batiste performing “Freedom”. Both your eyes as well as your ears are in for a treat. 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Family issues

I have to say that I don’t normally pay any attention to the notifications I get from Paris Baguette. I just scan the app to accumulate points whenever I go in for a latte and then redeem the points when they are enough to get something free.

But this one kind of surprised me a couple of weeks ago:

Yes, I suppose that some percentage of people might not be celebrating Father’s Day, for any number of reasons. So, okay.

But I don’t recall a similar notification for Mother’s Day last month, when I’d imagine there are at least as many people who ditto.

Maybe I just didn’t notice it.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Fast food for the feathered set

On one of my recent walks on the W&OD Trail, I noticed a woman spreading what looked like seed from a pouch she was carrying onto the base of an electricity pole.

I asked, “Are you feeding the birds?”

She said she always carries food for them and went on her way.

Well, when I saw it was raw rice, I was a little dubious. But it turns out that birds can indeed digest uncooked rice, so some of our feathered friends got quite the feast.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Political commentary

I actually had a couple of other contenders for my Gratitude Monday post yesterday. One was the African elephant that Texas GOPs trotted out over the weekend for some convention they were holding.

The elephant peed on the venue floor. And—let me say this—evidently elephants have capacious bladders.

It was magnificent.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Off the wall

My gratitude for today is that the Kleptocrat’s name has been removed from the Kennedy Center—including from the wall of the building itself.

A federal judge, Christopher Cooper, ruled last month, in a suit brought by ex-officio Kennedy Center board member, Rep. Joyce Beatty (D-OH), that the center was given its name by Congress and only Congress can change the name. (It was his handpicked stooge board that renamed the center in December. A day later, he declared himself surprised, even as workers installed the clearly planned letters on the wall.) He set 2359 on Friday as the deadline for the name being off everything—the website, marketing materials, employee email signature blocks and the building. The Kleptocrat’s KC stooges dithered around for a couple of weeks, then filed a motion to stay, which the judge denied.

So I joined tens of thousands of online viewers Friday, (as well as scores on site) watching as workers erected scaffolding for the deed. 

Credit: Rahmat Gul, AP

There was a break late afternoon as a storm moved through the city, right around the time the stooges filed an appeal, claiming for the first time that amended center bylaws now state that the center only receives funds if the Kleptocrat’s name remains; if it’s ever removed, the money stops.

Well, that didn’t hold, but they still missed the midnight deadline. So they filed another motion requesting a 24-hour stay, because the dog ate their homework. The judge granted them until noon on Saturday to get ‘er done.

Around 0330, the workers completed the scaffolding, but then spent time pulling up gigantic tarps to completely shield them from view. 

Credit: Tasos Katopodis, Getty

Word on the street is that the delay to the wee small hours, and the tarps, were solely to spare the Kleptocrat the humiliation of having the world rejoice at seeing his name come off, letter by letter. But Cliff Owen of AP got this shot of the P popping out:

And Joyce Beatty stayed throughout the night to witness.

Credit: Cliff Owen, AP

The tarps are still up. It’s more than possible that the Kleptocrat is hoping for more court filings to overturn the decision—that it’ll go to SCOTUS, and they may find some way to twist “Congress gave it the name, only Congress can change the name” into “yeah, it’s okay.” And, of course, there was the birthday circus yesterday at the Building Formerly Known as The White House.

Credit: Alex Wrobiewski, AFP via Getty

UPDATE: Per @MusicologyDuck on Bluesky, those door-like indentations have been formalized:

Credit: Musicology Duck

But for now, I’m grateful for Rep. Beatty, for Judge Cooper, for those workers (who I hope got overtime for working through the night), for everyone involved in this exquisite rebuke to the Kleptocrat’s imperial ambitions. And on his birthday weekend.

Many happy returns.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Our pockets full of nothing

Somewhat hidden in this week’s headlines about the Kleptocrat being roundly booed (and falling asleep) at Game 3 of the NBA finals, him declaring that he “love[s] the inflation” and him getting pissed off that Iran’s not behaving like Republicans in Congress and therefore resuming war crimes was news that America’s farmers are struggling.

He flew to Wisconsin last Friday to rally the racists, where he had to mock up a “panel” of others so he could sit instead of stand at a podium. Then he threw a hissy fit when sitting in a mocked-up barn being interviewed Meet the Press; Kristen Welker kept asking for evidence of his insane claims about rigged elections past and present, so he ripped off his mic, stomped on it and then stormed out with a parting, “Thank you, darling.”

During the “panel”, he announced that he’s going to hawk up another few billions of taxpayer money to help farmers over “the bump” of tariff-tanked soybean sales to China, climate-change-induced drought and escalating fuel prices and fertilizer shortages due to the Iran war. He’ll probably eventually come through with it because the mid-term election is in five months.

Even so—farm bankruptcies are skyrocketing and so are food costs for us, the consumers. It’s not a pretty picture.

So my earworm for today is Nanci Griffith’s “Trouble in the Fields”. Sadly, it’s as true today as it was when she wrote it during the farm crisis in 1987. 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

New neighbor just hopped

I was out in the back yard the other day and realized to my horror that I had left a stack of empty planters right side up. That meant that it was full of soupy, fetid water and probably about 12 squillion mosquito larvae.

I upended them & unhoused three slugs and this guy:

I dispatched the slugs and set the amphibian on some leaves. Much healthier environment for him.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Milk money

A couple of months ago, I noted in passing that LIDL had the lowest price on milk (of three grocery chains), by a dollar. It was $1.67 per half gallon.

A week or so ago, I noticed that they’d raised the price to $1.87.

(Yeah—you do have to watch out for cartons damaged in shipping.)

Huh, I thought. But inflation, fuel cost increases—I guess 11% is…well, it just is.

So I checked out the other three stores.

Trader Joe’s; actually, no change from March:

But Wegmans is charging almost as much for a half gallon as they are for a full gallon:

They’re now up there with Giant:

(Giant was ahead of the game--$3.29 back in March.)

Folks, I do not know what’s going on, but that delta between LIDL and the other is eye-watering.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu