For the past two weeks, while the rest of our poor countrymen to the east have been suffering through wildfires and fatally high temperatures, we here in the Pacific Northwest have been grumbling over much cooler than normal temperatures and more than a fair dose of liquid sunshine. Earlier this week, though, the sun reappeared and the temperatures climbed closer to the normal summer range.

My husband and I were especially grateful for this turn in the weather, as we had company coming for the Fourth of July and staying on for an outdoor concert at the Britt Festival the following night. Wednesday dawned with the lawn finally dry enough to mow (and incredibly high), so we foresook the annual parade in Central Point to get the yard spruced up for our guests. The local parade presents the small-town Fourth archetype: local school bands play; Scout troops, dance and martial arts school students march; local businesses have their truck- or tractor-drawn floats; owners of antique and classic cars roll their shiny beauties along the route; and veterans and soldiers from World War II to the present are loudly and proudly applauded as they pass the flag-waving crowds lining Main Street. 

We spent our afternoon with cool glasses of various libations in hand, lolling in the shade on the back patio, catching up with our friends and enjoying the lovely weather. As evening drew on, we grilled our supper and noted the ever-increasing frequency and volume of the neighbors’ fireworks stand purchases. (Although, gauging from the elevation and window-shaking properties of some of the said fireworks, I would guess more than a few of these not-so-legal displays came from other sources.)

Finally, around 9:30 p.m., we strolled a block over to our small neighborhood park to take in the big, official display erupting from the county fairgrounds just a mile or so away. We had a perfect view without having to fight crowds or traffic and enjoyed a nearly 30-minute extravaganza of all that shimmering glory. All around us, those unofficial rockets were bursting as well — some surprisingly similar in size to the county display.

Strolling back home afterwards under a nearly full moon in the comfortable air, past neighbors lined up in lawn chairs along the street shooting off their Roman candles and waving sparklers, we decided it couldn’t have been a more perfect Independence Day.

— Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor