The fourth of July brought our annual trek to Provo to see the hot air balloons lift off, hike Y mountain, then regain all calories burned at the BYU Creamery.
We were up early, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
We had our cameras ready for the great balloon lift off.
But we waited in vain.
The wind picked up at the wrong moment, nearly flattening the crowd with a balloon shaped like Darth Vader. Ominous.
So, it was off to the Y. Were no pictures were taken, if you can believe that. But everyone made it, even Josh who met us there.
The conversation on the way down is always the same with the youngest hiker. A entire 40 minutes based on a single question, "what kind of ice cream are you going to get?" Any sign of fatigue or melt-down brings back this question. Any slack in the pace are unnecessary stumbling, we m mention chocolate goodness, covered in sprinkles and gummy bears and it is like infusing a second (or eleventh) wind into those young legs and they just keep going.
Cul-de-sac fireworks capped off the evening, which was unusually stormy.
Jack was able to light his own fireworks.
Henry allowed to throw smoke bombs.
Eleanor, just happy to be with her friend.
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