How was everyones' Fourth of July? Eh?

Mine was an enjoyable day spent trotting from store to store at the Gilroy outlets. With Asians.
A friend of ours (Eric) invited Sarah and I to go shopping, and so the 6 of us split up into two groups and followed each other along the freeway (Sarah tailed us too closely for comfort!). Alright, the next time you plan an outdoor shopping mall, DO NOT spread it out into four sections! I was very tired at the end, since we visited almost every store imaginable. The sights and smells of shoes, jackets and tops became a blur as if I were stuck in an endless tour of the mall. Between my picky taste in jeans, and Eric's wanting a light color of shoe, we were there until around 4 or 5 o'clock. After all that, I ended up with two pairs of pants.

When night came, our family headed for the roof to watch the fireworks. Check your local listings and you'll find many professional fireworks shows around the Bay Area, but in my neighborhood there is a show few brochures talk about.
One thing I can praise the people in our neighborhood for, is their fireworks — they didn't just stop off at the local stand and buy a few squibs. Picture this: you're standing on a bare roof in the pleasant evening air. The sun has already gone down in a flaming ball—it's own tribute to the Fourth—and you wait patiently for the first aerial to go off; each year there is something new, and the fireworks seem to get bigger and better as the veterans hone their skill.
The first one starts off the show, shooting up in a whizzing flare hight above the expectant crowd below and bursting into dazzling fire of green or blue or red. Flashing clouds and booming explosions are everywhere you look as you rotate 360 degrees. It sounds like a street war is going on in Hayward — what the noisemakers lack in light they make up for in clamor (a few set off car alarms). You happen to be a street over from someone setting off brilliant aerials: subtle sparks shoot up, up into the night sky and erupt into a ball of colored flame in every direction like a million flash bulbs. The light blazes over every roof for a moment and dies in a second.

One street starts spouting out colored fire as if their whole firework stock went up in a steady fountain. The display ends and then begins again 20 minutes later! Somebody loves their fireworks...
After an hour and a half of glittering color in front of my eyes, less aerials go up and most of the family climbs down to break out the handheld roman candles! Oops, I mean the sparklers—but I'd like to hold a roman candle. Can you say fireworks battle?
As you watch what's left of the display, the rest of the family lights sparklers below and dances around with them, or tosses them up in the air only to see them drop and fizzle out.

Everyone finally goes inside, packs up the ladder and goes to some well-earned rest. That was my Fourth of July.

...I love the sun and its glorious light.

Part of the reason I love California so much is the different weather we have. I love the days of light when the bright sun turns even the dullest earthy-hue into brilliant, vivid color to dazzle the eyes, and the humblest pool of water into a beautiful mirror. I love the dim days when all the clouds sail the air, and when the towering thunderheads overshadow the earth and bring a bounty of rain to the thirsty earth.

I even love the weary days of humid heat, when you feel as if you are drowning in a bath of sweltering hot air — the hot air rises, but the heat weighs on your mood, and you remember not to take air conditioning for granted.
A humbling thing when you don't have air conditioning.

The freezing days make me thankful for having warm clothing, hot showers, and blankets to curl up in. Outside, the winds drive the clouds across the sky and tear leaves from the trees, making the branches shake in protest.
Inside, I curl up with a good book — when I look outside at the shifting skies and wild wind, or the beating rain, it feels so comforting to be protected. My house is a sanctuary in the storm.

Lastly, I love the days anywhere in between; maybe the sun shines half of the day, and then the clouds come to cover it. Maybe there are clear skies with large looming clouds, and then the rain showers down and washes everything clean.
But at the end is the sunset, and the crown of every day.
I love when liquid sunlight pours down on the clouds and sets the sky aflame in a brilliant splash of color; the moon moves on to other lands and the sun is blown away by the west wind.
I never forget the rare days when the light fades until you think it is gone, and then the last rays illuminate a painted turquoise sky and delicate pink clouds. God's creation is beautiful.