We walked down the street on Saturday evening, about 8:30 PM. The sun is finally getting low, and we know it’s time to start heading over to Renne Field for the impending fireworks display. It’s an awesome one every year, full of color, zips, pops, and the delightful squeals of play-engulfed midsummer’s children.
We made our way through Memorial Park along the vendor fairways and had Sender’s giraffe balloon refilled for free. We’ve dragged it around for a few days and he needs a bit more “wind in his sails”.
We stopped for a quick visit at Heart2Heart Farms to pet their cuddly barn buddies again. Sender has developed a best friend relationship with the adorable fawn colored calf. They sit in the hay and share stories that only they understand.
We then made our way through the Carnival a few blocks over. It’s a blur of lights and screams. Kids running around with larger then life stuffed animals, won by the grand luck of some sort of chaotic toss. The International stage is in full swing with radio DJ’s from 93.1 El Ray. Twirling dancers and laughter seem to stretch for miles.
It’s the backside of twilight, and we can see the stage lit up with the sound of Soul Vaccination. The platform resides at a pleasant distance in the field. We decide to hang back with our little one below the faint glimmer of stars. Light sabers and glow-in-the-dark butterflies are streaming all around us. With the flick of a wrist, our vintage poncho finds a nice open spot to show off its faded, yet festive colors. It’s 10 o’clock; let the streams of fire begin…
Three, two, one, …*Fireworks. (video)
A picture is worth a thousand words, but the imagination paints an infinitude upon the mental canvas.
Electric green caterpillars
Galactic ice cream dribbles
Rockets red glare
Golden vertical rivers
Collapsing lavender rays
Radiant reactors of rigid-less light
Blurs of glitter
Sender sleeps through the entire show in a rest only babies know.
Good night Newberg. We traverse the crowded sidewalks home, as if in a dreamy boat of steadily rowing oars of feet, half steeped in the poem of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, already looking forward to the next year when Sender is awake for this living dream.
*Video on youtube-GlensGizmos