Glorious Fourth of Zenith
Jul. 4th, 2025 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoIt was a quiet Fourth of July (though it's not dark yet, so the fireworks haven't started). I woke up about 5:30 and put the flag out. I had to put my sunglasses on to do it, and I wore them indoors most of the morning, because my eyeball is still very light-sensitive after being lasered. I couldn't read very well with the sunglasses on, so I occupied myself with boiling the potatoes for potato salad, cleaning and cutting up the strawberries, and ditto for the lettuce while I waited for the Sparrowhawk to get up. After our usual First Breakfast, coffee and conversation time, and listening to Beethoven's Ninth, which was on Sirius XM, we considered going out for a walk again. By this time, it was around 80 degrees and getting steamy, and we came to a mutual decision to take a nap instead. We were awakened at noon by the monthly testing of the tornado sirens, but we fell asleep again before they had even stopped. Good thing it wasn't a real tornado.
So it was not a day of mighty accomplishments. The Sparrowhawk read the Declaration of Independence out loud, as he has from time immemorial. My favorite memory of this is the time we went to Blackjack Park in Kansas, site of John Brown's first battle, and he read it there--just before the mammatus clouds formed and the sky turned green and erupted in hail as we arrived home and ran pell-mell into the house and down into the basement. It wasn't actually a tornado that time either, but close enough. We watched "1776," which is something he likes to do. It's a bit sad not to have any kids around, but the benefit is that they can't mock our choice of traditions. Or our musical abilities when we start singing along.
They wouldn't have mocked our dinner, and I wish we could have shared it with them: steak, potato salad, caramelized onions and mushrooms, sweet corn, green beans, salad with radishes and cucumber. And we're about to take the cherry pie out of the oven. The Sparrowhawk was definite about turning down fireworks this year. It's hot out, and we have recently spent quite enough time plodding around in sweltering conditions. No doubt we'll hear them when it gets dark, although the trees will probably prevent us from seeing more than a few sparkles at the margins.
So it was not a day of mighty accomplishments. The Sparrowhawk read the Declaration of Independence out loud, as he has from time immemorial. My favorite memory of this is the time we went to Blackjack Park in Kansas, site of John Brown's first battle, and he read it there--just before the mammatus clouds formed and the sky turned green and erupted in hail as we arrived home and ran pell-mell into the house and down into the basement. It wasn't actually a tornado that time either, but close enough. We watched "1776," which is something he likes to do. It's a bit sad not to have any kids around, but the benefit is that they can't mock our choice of traditions. Or our musical abilities when we start singing along.
They wouldn't have mocked our dinner, and I wish we could have shared it with them: steak, potato salad, caramelized onions and mushrooms, sweet corn, green beans, salad with radishes and cucumber. And we're about to take the cherry pie out of the oven. The Sparrowhawk was definite about turning down fireworks this year. It's hot out, and we have recently spent quite enough time plodding around in sweltering conditions. No doubt we'll hear them when it gets dark, although the trees will probably prevent us from seeing more than a few sparkles at the margins.
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Date: 2025-07-05 05:17 pm (UTC)Walking home around 9:30 pm through West Philly last night, I smelled both gunpowder and roses, an intriguing combination.