Or I thought it was.
And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped - as in immediately stopped. Lights went off and there was silence. The house once again stood empty and we returned to the quiet life we moved here for until the end of September when the same situation repeated itself. It was odd.
Winter arrived and spring left. During that time the house had visitors during the day but at night all was dark and silent...until last night - the Fourth of July.
Our horses. Living near a Native American community, our horses have always been desensitized to fireworks, which start around mid-June and are sold until midnight on July 4th.
Last night I took precautions of hanging halters near the gates of the pastures but didn't think anything else about it. In all the years we've lived here we've never had an issue. Everybody near us has livestock or dry fields. They leave and go watch a firework show some place else but don't set them off at home.
I was so frustrated. I must admit to uttering (well, yeah - I did kind of yell) "poor neighbor" four letter words at the party goers but they couldn't hear me over their own noise (probably a good thing in retrospect). I thought about going over and talking to them but chickened out...too many of them. I thought about sending my husband over to talk to them, but he had to work the next day and was already in bed. I knew calling the authorities, who had their hands full, wouldn't help. I fretted and fumed.
After three continuous hours of aerial fireworks, it suddenly became quiet. I ran outside - to find the house dark and not a soul around. I took a flashlight and checked on the horses, huddled together in a corner of the pasture. I left them as they were, together for comfort.