My Kind of Fireworks

Once I enjoyed fireworks. The explosion of color against a dark sky, the changing patterns, the inevitable ooooh of the watchers.

But ever since I watched dogs cowering in fear at the sound, and as I became more aware of the negative effects fireworks have on other critters--wildlife, folks with PTSD--not to mention the possibilty of wildfires--the pleasure is gone.

Bailey, in particular is freaked by thunder and lightning. We'll be keeping her close during this long weekend.

I guess it's a consequence of being 'woke'--empathetic to the fears and needs of others. Does that make me un-American?

 

By the Rockets' Red Glare

At the Fourth of July celebration there were friends and food . . .

Of course there were fireworks . . .

And we all said "Ooooooooo' as they burst overhead, showering us with stars . . . .

But the very best gift from the sky was the inch of rain in our rain gauge that we found after the long ride home.

I'll post a web album tomorrow of our weekend doings, including a picture of raspberry-peach buckle that will make you drool. But now I have to go make potato salad.