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Whew. We survived. Our neighborhood is crazed for fireworks… the percussion of the big ones taking flight, the snap of firecrackers firing in succinct succession, the crackle of sparklers and the whine of the Whistling Pete went on for hours. I sat with my eyes closed and listened to the sounds of freedom celebrated… which I’m guessing is not too far off from the sounds of war, but with squeals of laughter replacing the warrior cry.

This morning I fully expected to leave my house and find the aftermath of a night of explosive revelry… a perfect mess to shoot and share. A firecracker hangover for the world to see. Alas, it seems Santa’s Little Helpers are moonlighting as the Firework Fairies – not an errant piece of paper or plastic to be found. How is that even possible?