Crossing a two mile trek through town, there must have been 100 displays of fireworks. Nearly ever other dwelling had a gathering of 10 or more people out front waving morning glories, shooting off bottle rockets, propelling whirler gigs and fountains. Colorful sparkles and lots of smoke to a chorus of whistling, cracking and popping. Before the night was out – or rather – we called it a night to head home, there were THOUSANDS of blasts, booms and oooos and aaahhhhhhs.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
In the distance a professional display of those showy high in the sky, multi-tiered, multi-colored big boyz was visible across the bay. We had prepared our little extravaganza at the intersection of a main street and the driveway with a bucket of water and lawn chairs . The extended family gathered for a singing of The Star Spangled Banner. Alas, this was no solemn moment. Meow-meow meow meow meow meoooooooow ? (translated as “O-hhhhh, say can you see?) Yes, we sang the whole song that way. From the youngest nephew to the matriarch. I fear a new tradition was born.
Now it’s Tuesday – which feels like Monday – and a return to the regular pace of things is at hand. But I can seem to shake the song…