=:Red, White and Blue Pt. 2:=

And a flag in the yard, fireworks behind.

Then I came home to this—I never get enough of this window in the river birch.

In the early morning, I was very late to the balloons.  I found this one, already gone to ground. Within five minutes, the blower went off, and the vents were open – it collapsed like the wicked witch of the west.

Okay.  The piggy bank is just a little much –

Don’t these clouds seem just as balloony as any hot-air balloon?

On the way to the parade—is Chaz excited?

And our Chelse, visiting from the far off East.  I have posted no pictures of M and me – we’re too silly.

We don’t sit for the parade anymore.  Ginger sold the house, and this year, Cam and L, who had started claiming a new parade territory, are busy with Baby Sister.  So we walk the parade.  We let it get started, meet it when it gets to the middle of the route, and then walk against the grain.  That way, if there’s something cool, we turn around and walk with it, getting our fill.  If there are dead spots, we walk through ’em.  And this way, we see thousands of friends along the way.  Here are a few shots, a sampling of the celebration of the wonderful diversity in the valley –

I don’t even know what this vehicle is.  Obviously military, and I think probably belonging to the engineers.

And horses, dragging leather and silver.

We were amazed and fascinated – standing in front of – what is this?  A comic store.

I’m not sure what this was supposed to be.  The pig is made out of dozens of pink balloons – very clever.  But not lookin’ all that secure, followed as it is by those giant scissors.  I think it’s supposed to signify a republican pig intending to cut spending – but it just doesn’t scan that way . . .

The Hari Krishnas from Spanish Fork?  Or maybe just a Llama club.

And horses.  BIG horses.

And dancers from all the islands, floating in the Blue Pacific.

And horses, being vaulted upon.

And bands.

And MORE bands.

And M – home.  Did I tell you he was home?

After the parade – the tiny barbecue.

Attended by the woman with one working foot.  (Yes, this is why we spent half the day at InstaCare.)

And by tie-dyed children.  The first business of the children is the great tiny flag hunt.  You will note one very cleverly hidden flag, stuck in the chair behind the Mr. C.  Mr. C is too old for the hunt.  You can tell by his very cynical and world-worn face.

Here, the tie-dyed father and the cook.

The Great and handsome B, also tie-dyed.  I think if you visit Rachel’s blog, I believe you can find out more about these shirts.

The delicious smoke of hot dog and burger.

A hopeful dog.

Family and friends.  My brother and his cute wife and pretty grown up son.

The great Flag hunt, older brother helping.

Young, very cool men, chillin’ together – friends, sons, nephews.

MORE flag hunting, assisted by puppy.

But LO!  Not a flag, found, but a big, fat snake (who thought he was safe under the old stump).

As it turns out, Chelse really likes snakes.

This is NOT Chaz’ reaction to the snake.

The tree swing, attacked by one of M’s now twenty-one year old high school buddies, died.  So what better day to rehang than on the fourth?

Great risks offer great benefits!

And this is the end — the evening coming on – color and cartwheels and families full of hot dogs.

There is more to the story.  But no pictures here of that: us at C’s house for a few small fireworks and homemade pie, and Baby Sister nestled in my arms for the first time – for hours and hours.

And that, my dears, was our fourth.  We hope that yours was full of joy and family and gratitude.  And if there is no 4th celebration where you are, still, you can stop and think about the glory of being alive, of making your own choices, and creating and laughing and giving good things to share your joy.  Oh, color and flags, and clouds and the glorious sky.  Birds know, and so should we, the propensity of the soul to fly.