Circle of life

We had kind of a wet beginning to August. So there were crops of mushrooms around the ‘hood.

I followed the lifecycle of one of them.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Down in the weeds

I tuned in to my HOA’s landscaping committee meeting earlier that month, which is 70 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.

I attended because I wanted clarification on what our landscape maintenance contractor is supposed to be doing about back yards. We’ve had three companies in the past four years; the previous one was only contracted to come into our back yards twice, during late fall, to blow leaves. By the time they got to mine for the first round, there were foot-high drifts of leaves and sycamore bark. I’m not sure whether they did the second pass at all.

But this crowd hasn’t been in my back yard all year. They’re here weekly during growing season, but they only mow and blow in the front yards and the common areas.

So I asked—when can I expect someone to attend to the growing piles of leaves in the back yard?

The hand-flapping chair of the committee asked me if I was leaving my gate open? No—because I have no back fence, therefore no gate. It's wide open. As they'd know if they ever walked behind my block of townhouses. Which they have not.

Well, the HOA president (who has ubiquitous tendencies) butted in to inform us that the workers are supposed to mow, trim and blow in open back yards every other week. Which they have obviously not been doing.

Yay.

However, in the course of the meeting for as long as I stuck it out, someone commented on the need for the contractors to address the weeds—which they obviously are also not doing. And I was reminded of this last week when I noticed this weed:

I mean—no banana for scale, but that’s a weed of substance, right there.

I have no weeds, because the leaves act like mulch to suppress anything that's even thinking of growing. 

(Contractors were out yesterday and back yard still ankle high in leaves. I’ll have to put in a ticket in the property management portal.)

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: It's there if you look

Some days your gratitude is macro; some days micro. Today’s the latter, but I think it’s also the former.

One recent morning on my walk, I was struck by the elegant arrangement of three roses on their bush. So of course I shot a photo.

There’s something about the formation of the pink flowers against the green shrubbery and the subtle curve to the right that just hums. I'm so grateful to have this kind of thing all around me.

You don’t have to stop to smell the roses, but it’s worth your time to pause to appreciate what they’re giving you.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: exploding color

Seems like I post annually about how much I love crape myrtles. Because they are truly something I rejoice in; have done ever since I was a child.

So today my gratitude is for this beauty that looks like it’s swaddled by a shrub. Just popping out of the sea of green like a breaching orca in an excess of joy.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: a welcome return

With all the crappiness surrounding us these days—mostly man-made—I was filled with joy and gratitude to peek through the trees around the (man-made) ponds on the former corporate HQ campus and current construction site of absolutely hideous townhouses selling for $1.2M and discover my old friends the sacred lotus blooming.

Those ponds were completely drained a couple of years ago, and I was so worried about the flora and fauna that were part of their ecosystem. The snapping turtles were rescued and relocated somewhere; I haven’t seen the blue herons. But the lotus gives me hope.

A definite reason for gratitude.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Lilies of the field

Do you need some Asiatic lilies? I expect you do.

You’re welcome.

 

©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

 

Among us

We here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia have been in a Seattle weather pattern for nearly a week. It’s been completely overcast since last Friday; Friday and Saturday it rained all day; every day since has seen at least some sprinkles.

(The rotting Kleptocrat cited "bad weather" when he moved yesterday's Cabinet meeting from Camp David to the White House. Right after returning from Walter Reed, where he got his third "annual" medical check-up since taking office 15 months ago. I mean...)

So of course the mushrooms are loving it. This crop is just from yesterday morning, when the weather was 71F and soupy at 0800.

I did not harvest any. I just let them live their best lives.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Waiting for me

I noticed this after one of our recent rain storms. It seemed beautiful to me, so I took the photo.

It’s all around us, if we look.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Nature laying it on

Today I am grateful for the poetry of Spring—all the colors that envelop us as Nature throws off Winter’s coat.

I’m grateful for brisk temperatures for my morning walk, as well as the lack of humidity.

I’m grateful for overnight rain that clears up before I go out.

I’m grateful for the birds who sing and the foxes running across the golf course.

Is there any better way to start the day?

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

Stewards of the land

Long ago, in the Before Times, when the developers of the corporate campus behind my house were still trying to get planning permission to turn five acres of parkland into 82 four-story townhouses, I had an email exchange with a lawyer fronting the project about many of the scores of mature trees they’d destroy.

He assured me that “the canopy will not be affected,” which meant that they’d rip out/cut down all the trees they could and eventually plant an approximately equivalent number of saplings. For dealing with county agencies, that amounts to “the canopy won’t be affected”.

Well, they’ve got eight units completed of their 82, with framing done on another five or six. All the parkland has literally been paved and plumbed for the remaining units, and they’re working on the landscaping. Two months ago I wrote about their allée of hollies that look fine now, but will never again bear berries unless they stick a male plant in the vicinity.

And as I was making a tour on Sunday morning (the only day of the week they don’t have crews out violating the start times), I noticed that three shrubs right next to the model unit do not have long for this world.

Wonder how long it’ll take them to replace them?

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

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

 

Eyeball to eyeball

I was looking at autumn foliage a while ago and noticed this guy.

That’s it. That’s the post.

 

©2025 Bas Bleu

 

Foraging

A couple of weeks ago I noticed some incipient mushrooms along one of my walking routes:

I didn’t go that way for a few days, but when I did—wow:

I’m seriously tempted to harvest them and make soup.

 

©2025 Bas Bleu