The Lawn, Ablaze.

The Fourth of July is a major spectacle around here. It starts with the Ashland parade, which lasts over two hot hours and attracts about 15,000 spectators (perhaps more this year because of the Naked Lady). After a short respite and some barbecue we get on with the real fun: lighting the fireworks that Scott and the kids had procured at the seasonal TNT Shack. Chosen mostly based on size and name (particular favorites are Screaming Bees and Underwater Fury), these Chinese gems never fail to amuse.

We start with an appetizer of sparklers and after someone gets hurt—nicked by an errant spark, poked by another child’s hot stick, etcetera—we get to the good stuff. Crazy Monkey, Around the World, Climbing Panda, we light them all, sometimes simultaneously. Once we've violated as many air and noise pollution laws as we can, we head out to watch the City of Ashland do its Fireworks Show, which is orchestrated to music composed just for this event by American composer Robert W. Smith, and played by the members of the American Band College at SOU. Quite the to-do.

Exhausted, we drive back from the city fireworks show around 11:00 to find our front lawn ablaze. Apparently one of the six chambers of Havana Heat, a pyrotechnic the size of a small car battery, had not lit earlier and only went off after the smoldering chamber next to it heated it up. In flagrant disregard for Smokey the Bear’s advice earlier at the parade, we had not hosed down all the fireworks before we ran off to see the big show. Oops.

Thankfully, all ended well and the Raedekes continue to set a good example for kids everywhere.

(Addendum: Garage Band next door played in the parade and killed! I'm swollen with pride.)