In the end, the evening was soggy....a good thing when bottle rockets, Roman candles, and comet fireworks are in play.
I sat on the screened porch with the kittens asleep and Belle purring and preening. I've taught most of my pets, through the years, not to fear the loud noises outside - far away from their immediate world. We simply keep on with what we're doing come hell or high water: ambulances, fireworks, thunder, trees falling, lawn equipment, or the rumble of garbage trucks.
I was surprised to find myself with a pretty good view, back there, of the neighborhood fireworks both through the trees and across the lake. No wonder Squirrel used to sit on a branch all evening, looking. She didn't mind 99% of the noise, but she would bark at the cherry bombs popping in the cul-de-sac....bothered her ears something fierce.
We all dread the sound of the yippy dog, though, especially Belle. He yelped for two hours last night, without stopping, somewhere through the woods. Everything sets him off including, but not exclusive to, his neighbor (we've never seen these dogs in person) the deep-voiced, kindly, woofy dog. He also worries about the deer traveling, children laughing, gates closing, and streetlights coming on.
All in all, it was a beautiful evening that included a light show, plenty of noise-making, a glass of Calvados complete with a plate of apple slices, cheeses, and celery sticks, and the occasional sprinkle of gentle mist trying to become a bonafide rain shower.
Happy Birthday, America. God shed His Grace on thee. And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.
