The holly bears a berry

Okay, what you’re looking at here is a row of seventightly-pruned holly trees, each with bright red berries.

They were planted last week near the block of model townhouses for the development behind my cluster.

The one where they’re building 82 three- and four-story units on five acres, at $1.2+ a pop. (Well, $750K for the Affordable Dwelling Units, which have only a single-car garage and no "rooftop terrace".)

The reason I took the picture is that these are all female trees; hence the berries. But without a male holly within 50ft, there will be no more berries. And there are no indications of a male (they’re usually kind of scraggly looking) in the landscaping.

Enjoy, yuppies, while you can.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: hydration

Okay, well, 2026 got off to a rocky start. The president of the United States staged a military strike on a sovereign nation, kidnapped it’s head of state and announced that we’re going to run the country until [some vague hand wave about “proper transition of power,” as though this mook has any notion about that]. Oh—and we’re going to take all their oil. Representatives of finance corporations are already getting their shots for the trip to Caracas to see how they can suck all the wealth out of the country.

So—I’m going small for my gratitude today.

Many years ago—in the Before Times—on the recommendation of my hairstylist, I bought a SodaStream so I could make my own sparkling water. I don’t add flavors, I don’t try to turn it into Coke or Fanta; I just make sparkling water.

I'm not sure how much cheaper it is, but the SodaStream allows me to indulge in this small luxury without adding to the plastic burden of the planet. I’m grateful that I can do this and drink as much as I like. (Or, as much as I feel like making.)

At time of writing, mid-day on Sunday, I’m on my second bottle of the day.

It’s good to stay hydrated in these times, so I’m grateful to have this little extra to help me.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

How do you go on?

For the second day of 2026, I’m sharing something from Bonnie Raitt, "Will the Sun Ever Shine Again". It’s pensive and sad, but what I take from it is that not only do I need to look for the sign, I need to make the sign.

That’s my resolution for this year.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Slurping in the New Year

Given what a complete load of shite 2025 was, let’s start out the new year with robins.

I walked into my living room Tuesday afternoon (after finishing yesterday’s post on notable deaths of the year) to see two robins drinking from the birdbath. There were more of them in the trees and on the ground. (It’s been my observation that robins, like nuns, never travel alone; in fact, if you see one, it generally means that there’s a squadron of them nearby.)

We’ve had some cold weather in the past couple of days, so they may have had difficulty finding unfrozen water, but my birdbath is heated. (No, it’s not like a hot tub; it just keeps the contents from freezing.) So it may have been their best source in the neighborhood.

There were so many drinking, I had to replenish the water mid-afternoon.

And I was entranced watching them.

Let’s hope this is a harbinger for 2026.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu