Tuesday, July 04, 2006


Hot, but we marched up and down the parade route anyway, first to line up with the library ladies, then back down into town through hundreds of cheering faces, with the kids on wheels, in our firefly shirts.

After the last marching band passed through the streets filled behind it like a zipper closing; you could see it on the hill, this mass of overheated, semi-patriotic humanity, closing in on you, sweaty and eager for hot dogs and beer.

Now it's hours past their bedtime, after a long slow evening of grilling, goats and glowsticks on the top of a cleared hill, admiring the sunset while we slurped our ice cream.

Once the sky has stopped cracking, the hills grow dark again. Porch lights flicker out, leaving only the fireflies, blinking furtively among the trees, for illumination.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:55 PM |

Post a Comment
coming soon
now listening