The Rocket's White Glare

 I waited until July 4 to try my hand at photographing fireworks because I thought, naturally, that'd be the best time. It wasn't. On July 3 our next door neighbor had an impressive fireworks display which would have produced beautiful - and near - photographs. Instead, last evening at 10 p.m. I found Moraine's grand display too low and too distant to be of much interest.

 But somewhere, another neighbor, probably near Venus Road, was firing off their own display and I marveled at the colorful showers, also behind the trees, but not a mile away. These were close enough to hear. I'd catch the hiss of the rocket and then the spray of colorful sparks, disjointed by the distance the sound had to travel. Light and sound had gone their separate ways.
 After 15 minutes I looked to the ground and saw a small animal inching my way. Egad, it was quiet and slow in its approach and I stood there, hand on the shutter and tripod, wondering whether I just ought to run at once and leave the camera sit.
 A week ago I watched a skunk tearing at our bagged trash near the same spot and figured this gray/white animal was one and the same. I would get sprayed and finish my day in the shower. I made some noises to ward it off, or at least warn it that I was standing there. Surely it did not know.
 But it absolutely failed to be intimidated and so it was I who moved! I folded the tripod quickly and made off at a rapid pace. I got back in the house, heart pumping and glad that I was safe and smelling normally.
 This morning I went out to see if I might find some evidence of the skunk and instead found the rock that marks the end of our driveway. That's what I had been seeing all along. In the dark it only seemed to move. I laughed at myself.
 And so my brief time photographing fireworks netted me only one photo to show for my trouble. I was accosted only by my own imagination in the bargain.