July is the season. We here in Southwest Harbor, Maine, pretty close to Canada, very definitely North Atlantic, we pretend we're in the tropics. For one day. Villagers get all decked out in pink clothes, many gardens are strewn with plastic flamingos, and then our parade. A celebration of warmth and just plain old goofy fun.
All the ones in the parade throw candies out for the children...or for anyone who likes candy.
Yesterday while I was riding my bike home from the library, I heard a band practicing. "When the Saints Come Marching In." I watched them march down one of the side roads. And now today, there they were dancing down the street, their horns loud and wonderfully out of tune, marching in the Flamingo Day Parade.
"You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,
your voice-thunder makes us very happy.
Roar, lion of the heart,
and tear me open!"
--Rumi Read More
All the ones in the parade throw candies out for the children...or for anyone who likes candy.
Yesterday while I was riding my bike home from the library, I heard a band practicing. "When the Saints Come Marching In." I watched them march down one of the side roads. And now today, there they were dancing down the street, their horns loud and wonderfully out of tune, marching in the Flamingo Day Parade.
"You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,
your voice-thunder makes us very happy.
Roar, lion of the heart,
and tear me open!"
--Rumi Read More