Every year for the past twenty or so, our town has had an event that we call Summerfest. It’s a big deal. There is a carnival with rides and booths and enough food to make everybody sick and a parade and talent shows and a baby contest and fireworks and positively everything you could ask for in a Summer-festy type thing.
Like I said, it’s a big deal…but then this happened.
Yeah…that is a bus-load of water pouring all over everything.
We kept thinking of the poor booth guys and how soon they’d need a row boat. Our plans for our favorite day were pretty much scrapped.
But then, wait–what’s this?!
The beastly hurricane magically stopped and the sun came out and dried up all the rain…kinda like in that spider song.
We wasted no time getting to our annual parade spot. Our blankets were already there–pretty soggy, but still stalwartly holding our spot since Thursday. As I said, this is a BIG deal.
The babies had never really seen a parade or clowns or horses before.
They loved the floats…
…and sitting on various beloved laps…
…waiting for the next school band–their favorite–to come along.
Of course, men in kilts are always a good thing.
Some bald guy even showed up with pizza. He must have been raised right.
Yes, yes–we were having our usual lovely time…until…
Dude.
You see those black clouds?
I should have snapped some pictures of all the people running like they were being shot at, as those clouds cracked open and started soaking everybody—but I was too busy making a break for it myself–dragging soggy blankets and bodies back to the car.
We missed the fireworks–well, up close anyway, but it was still wonderful–as always.
Dry, wet, hot, cold–who cares? We do it any way–because to us, just being together for this silly day is so worth it.
Hot chocolate at our place…in June?
Be there.
Grampa, Laurie, Launi and Andy–1959