The Head Troll has already begun her attempt to keep the barnyard safe this July 4th. Buckets are being gathered for head armour and ear plugs are being handed out. I'm always amazed of her ingenuity–collecting the sheared llama fiber, twisting them into little Q-tip like wads and adding string or sticks to make them into functioning ear plugs. Raggedy Man is usually first in line and Professor, always the quiet one, is right behind him.
Every year since we've moved here, the property up in the hills from us sets off real fireworks. The first years I was actually terrified. There seemed to be no law of the land out here in renegade-ville, and to a point, there still isn't. Part of this comes from,
We've lived here forever and have always done this, so did our parents and their parents.
This combined with nobody complaining, except behind closed doors, doesn't help.
The other fact is there is a real shortage of patrol cars and deputies in most cities, let alone rural areas. I feel for the fire departments this time of year, especially this summer. An over dry winter, warm temps all spring with no rain, then with June setting record high heat wave temps–we are on our second full week of upper 90's-the land is a timber box.
I can not imagine any reasonable person setting off anything this year, even sparklers-which we also frown on. I don't care if I sound like an old fart-matches plus explosions-hey, what a great idea when the ground is parched!
The Misfits and I rarely make political statements, but this year, we are here to say we don't want fireworks and think they should be banned. We will be sitting on our deck as usual, after a picnic here with friends, waiting for the explosions to begin. Sure they can be pretty, but novices with explosions in forests, and a wind that can carry it all to my farm or a near by one, cringe worthy. But rest assured dear people of the hills above, if you do choose to set them off, we will be here for you, calling the fire department, hoping they can get to you before your century old barn burns, or before the wind might pick up and take ours too.
The Head Troll has one final thought,
Just be reasonable.
