A Fifth of July
I took a bus with a belly dancer, a laminator, three pounds of pastry, and three pounds of cherries. We disembarked in Phoenicia (not that Phoenicia) and eventually landed on Independence Day at the other Lexington. The one with the 40 foot waterfall in the backyard. The one guarded by the silent, highly evolved dog named Yogi. The one whose front yard is guarded by the free-ranging guinea pig named Buddy. The one that has had a fledgling in basket on the side porch for the past four days. The trampoline and the beer were guarded by JD and Beckett. JD and Beckett were guarded by Nancy. The rest of the realm was for the unicorn. The cherries were tired after all that travel and the excitement of the water fall.
The next day, once the dancer, the laminator and the archivist went for a hike, Robin helped pit hundreds of cherries by hand using only a lobster fork. It worked surprisingly well.
When Kenny and Cheryl arrived that evening we had a second round of dinner-lunch grilled things.
Then we set off for an intimate fireworks display in the backyard of a friend of a friend of a friend. An intimate gathering with only the local fire department and 1500 of the host’s closest friends in attendance. We waited until sunset. Then when twilight ended and it was finally dark, innumerable hot air balloons are released from all over the grounds and amidst the crowd and we stood to sing the national anthem.
After that, all hell broke loose over our heads. Literally over our heads. Shells fell on people. Trees in the woods caught fire. If Fredrick Church and Caspar David Frederich had been rocket scientists, this would have happened. Here is a link to five minutes and 45 seconds of what happened on the Fifth of July. And here is the laminator’s fourteen and a half minute sound recording of the magic.
Then when we came home we had pie and tequila. It was only after the second round that the archivist began to search for the unicorn. But she was already in bed and invisible.
We found her in the morning. To celebrate, we had another round. Of pie. Not tequila.