Poor Bubo; she’s taken to wearing her aviator helmet this week-end due to the influx of fireworks. Her delicate ear feathers were singed Friday and Brooklyn has been lit up nightly by fireworks displays.
For American Independence Day, I will endeavor to keep Mordecai from shooting fireworks out of the cannon again. Perhaps I’ll distract him with fresh mint juleps and a handful of sparklers.
Yesterday’s rain made the garden so fragrant and lush this morning, that I culled an enormous batch of mint, parsley and basil. Mordecai was grumbling over his coffee until I handed him some fresh raspberries and then he promptly shut up. It’s so difficult to grumble AND enjoy delicious berries at the same time.
Enjoy the holiday, my pretties. Be safe (don’t poke anyone’s eye out with a flag or attempt a fire-eating trick with bottle rockets) and be proud.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard a small explosion from the basement and I smell burnt cinnamon. Clearly, Mordecai is starting early.
