And here we have the Rotary lights at Krouskop Park in Richland Center in Wisconsin, taken the same weekend.
Not impressed, you say?
Me either. Because a series of unfortunate events conspired to prevent me from enjoying the holiday (or, as us rebellious types like to call them—Christmas) lights at both parks.
I hear they are spectacular and fun and beautiful and cheerful and all the other good stuff we need as the light ends a little earlier each day and darkness claims the lion’s share of twenty-four hours.
Almost every city, burg, village and metropolis has some sort of light display as November wanders into December.
Even those who don’t embrace Christ’s birth or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa seem to enjoy twinkle lights and retro lights and shower lights and icicle lights and what have you. Not just enjoy. We almost need those thousand, or hundred thousand, points of light. We’re drawn to the light. We revel in it, we join our fellow gropers in its radiance, we carry its after-image, dancing across our corneas as we turn back to the blackness.
I missed the lights this week. Ironically, on Black Friday. But, Lord willing, I’ll get a chance to see them when my own little village lights its Christmas tree this coming weekend. And again in December when I’ll visit Chicago. No doubt you have your favorite display of bright holiday luminescence. Enjoy it in these long, dark days before the winter solstice begins the slow process of turning us back to the sun.
There. Isn’t that better?