In the States, the Fourth of July is probably the biggest holiday for fireworks. I remember spreading a blanket on the grass in Otisville awaiting a very strategically planned sensory attack of fire and light. Summer is the season for night lights like that. Even in Brooklyn, from the building tops, you would hear the echo of an occasional firework—which could have also occasionally been a gunshot, but we won't go there (too late). Anyway…
Last night, in the town square in my small city of Melitopol, there were fireworks everywhere to welcome the New Year. There was a main display, but (this is my favorite part) there were also renegades setting up their own smaller displays trying to compete. Fireworks were everywhere, moving and whistling in each and every way. It was also a misty night which gave the sky an eerie glow. Walking home, I could hear explosions in the distance and see only a faint glow, like heat lightning over the mountains on a summer night.
I shouldn't say summer if I have not yet been through Winter in Ukraine, but I can't wait for summer…and to report on the firework status then. And the cherries! Oh, the cherries.
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