Ta rah rah boom tee ay.
Sped off to Baird Point at the BigU's suburban campus to make some spectacular fireworks images last night, after Marty & Susan's exurban barbecue where, amongst others, spotted Bad Ronald, sundry musicians, a few dogs, an oenophile, a plowed field, children fascinated by firecrackers, serious fireworks exploding over a stand of trees beyond the field, and general revelry.
The BigU's spectacle, really that of the town of Amherst, draws thousands of watchers.
Annie and I saw a crescent of the various displays alongside the mighty Niagara and on various golf courses. The Indian's casino, ever cashing in on collective interests, allegedly blew off some f-works on their sovereign land alongside the cataracts, celebrating the development of the country that would go on to marginalize their entire culture, leading to the backlash of casinos and tax-free gas and cigs.
The Amherst spectacularity was wonderful and was only sullied by a curious mix of music that was booming from one point near the lake, deafening about 30% of the watchers.
Stepped over blanketeers to get various angles and this image is one of about a dozen of superkeepers.
Kennedy referred to this and a few others as being my Maxfield Parrish images.
I concurred, and here is an exemplary image for Your perusal and edification.

Compare, contrast, write a limerick or haiku in honour of both of these epinw images du jour.
Your post-holiday wrap-up homework assignment.
Oh, ate the year's first hotdog yesterday at M&S's, sans bun, of course.

Contrasting Love.