And it is not just the man-made fireworks that make the viewing special; the yard was ripe with fireflies, blinking on and off. Sufficient to say that even without the explosive type, the gentle lights glowing in the humid warm air was a display in and of itself.
It is a private celebration. When the weather is dense enough, the scent of sulphur will drift foe miles and the concussion of the explosions may be felt. It is as though the display is strictly for you. It is most special.
The slightly sad item from the evening is that normally there are many familes in the miles around us that have their own small fireworks displays, but alas, an economy that has failed here has brought an end to that small summer's night pleasure. I noticed that more than anything.....how quickly it all ended.
When we first moved here, all about would be displays. It would begin to the north, then head south, then several places in the western sky would be alight with the magic fires.
I am of course, being a bit selfish with this memory. I know exactly what it is connected to. One does not buy fireworks when there are no jobs, when gas has skyrocketed and when food cost are as high as the explosions in the night air.
And I held that close as I watched the last of the exquisite fairy-dance creations.
But my little fireflies dance each night, quietly, adrift on the humidty-haze.
Summer is here in Indiana.
And I miss the more prosperous ones.
Pax....
