Who doesn't like fireworks? Little kids, old people, men, women, city people, rednecks, cowboys, sophisticates, millionaires, junkies, goodie two-shoes and naughty boys who drive across three states to get the good stuff that is against the law in places where the bed-wetters write the rules. Well, guess what - nobody goes "ooh" and aahhhh" over those stupid rules and nobody ever threw a parade or wrote a song to celebrate the people who wrote 'em, sparklers are for chumps. So even though the legal displays put on by towns and cities on July 4th might be bigger and more impressive, I like the little ones out in the boonies where some pirate took a little risk to remind us of what we all want to be independent from - somebody else's stupid rules.
Everyone knows I love waterfalls, and that I love to photograph the ones near our summer home - all of the rivers start in cedar swamps and cascade over the granite they have carved over millennia on their way to Lake Superior. There are no crowds and no guard rails; the paths lead you to the rock formations and you crawl around until you find your shot. In the spring, the snow runoff makes for thunderous flood-stage fury, but I like the late summer low-flow times. The water zigs and zags and forms small rivulets that make for quieter contemplation and better photographs.