Life, Liberty, And The Pursuit Of Fireworks
I love fireworks. There are such such wonderful memories of lying on the grass and watching the display unveil above me... the booming sound, the shimmering sparkles, people ooo-ing and ahh-ing. However, none of this is a good representation of this particular Independence Day. Sure, there were booming sounds and shimmering sparkles.... but they were followed by people shrieking and covering their heads as out of control fireworks threatened to make this their last July 4th.
Backing up....
My hubby and I decided to spend some of the holiday weekend at our farmer's camp with his wife and several of their friends. Last year, we enjoyed a lovely round of fireworks on the final evening of the weekend, set off by our gracious farmer host. Since it was such a success in the past, I made the incorrect assumption that this years' safety was a given. I should have seen it coming. Our farmer. My husband. Walking across the river to a small island to set off the bombs (I mean fireworks). In the dark. With the apparent inability to understand the written directions on the box. So when the first round of works shot off in random directions, some skimming across the water like firey skpping stones, we should have called it a night. Our determined gentlemen (knuckleheads) however, felt pretty certain that if they built up some stones around the works, it would keep them in the correct position. Well, that was a flop (literally). As a random ray of sparks rained down on us onlookers through the tree branches, the dogs whining and cowering for cover, we could barely see which direction the next set of shots was heading... until a startled yelp arose from our farmer. We knew instantly. The poor guy took a cracker right to the shin. But still, our men trudged forward with the show, giving us a grand finale of little noise makers that jumped about 10 inches off the ground before landing in the water with a sizzle.
Despite our racing hearts and the less-than-spectacular ending, we offered up a raucus round of applause. Afterall, the 4th of July is about freedom.... and after a close-up with death, I never appreciated it more.
Backing up....
My hubby and I decided to spend some of the holiday weekend at our farmer's camp with his wife and several of their friends. Last year, we enjoyed a lovely round of fireworks on the final evening of the weekend, set off by our gracious farmer host. Since it was such a success in the past, I made the incorrect assumption that this years' safety was a given. I should have seen it coming. Our farmer. My husband. Walking across the river to a small island to set off the bombs (I mean fireworks). In the dark. With the apparent inability to understand the written directions on the box. So when the first round of works shot off in random directions, some skimming across the water like firey skpping stones, we should have called it a night. Our determined gentlemen (knuckleheads) however, felt pretty certain that if they built up some stones around the works, it would keep them in the correct position. Well, that was a flop (literally). As a random ray of sparks rained down on us onlookers through the tree branches, the dogs whining and cowering for cover, we could barely see which direction the next set of shots was heading... until a startled yelp arose from our farmer. We knew instantly. The poor guy took a cracker right to the shin. But still, our men trudged forward with the show, giving us a grand finale of little noise makers that jumped about 10 inches off the ground before landing in the water with a sizzle.
Despite our racing hearts and the less-than-spectacular ending, we offered up a raucus round of applause. Afterall, the 4th of July is about freedom.... and after a close-up with death, I never appreciated it more.