Leaves > Fireworks. Don’t @ me.
Over the 4th of July weekend, I visited my sister in a small town in upstate New York. We made a plan to go to the big community fireworks display. I thought it would be a fun, memorable thing for my 3-year-old. Classic small-town summer: nice beach by a lake, kids running around, and $10 shriveled up hot dogs.
My daughter was having a blast. Cartwheels in the sand, big belly laughs, and a patina of soft serve on her adorable cheeks. I remember thinking: You’re doing it. You’re a good dad. The sun was setting, vibes were on point, and I watched an osprey carrying a fish back to its nest. It felt kind of perfect.
And then… the fireworks started.
No countdown. No “Hey folks, plug your ears.” Just immediate, high-intensity explosions. Suddenly we were in a war zone.
I could feel literal shockwaves hit me in the bones as each blast rained a mixture of heavy metals and likely carcinogens down on the crowd while everyone clapped and cheered. My daughter (who’s already sensitive) started screaming. Full-body terror. I entered full-on, lizard-brain fight or flight mode. I picked her up and just ran. Like, actually ran. It was like a scene from Saving Private Ryan, except with more glow-in-the-dark necklaces.
I threw her in the car and drove a mile away, where we watched the rest from a safe distance. She was okay. I was… not.
As I sat waiting for my heart rate to drop below 120 bpm, I realized something: I’m done with fireworks.
They can both trigger (and in my case, create) PTSD. They’re literal bombs. They’re expensive. Like this little town must have spent 30% of their annual budget on this. They pollute the air. They scare animals (RIP to that osprey’s chicks, probably.) They start wildfires. And for what? Entertainment? To celebrate freedom?
You know what we could do instead? Anything. Look at a screen saver. Sit around a real fire. Go catch fireflies.
Or my proposal for the Fourth of July: Cut the power to the entire city for an hour. Everywhere within a hundred miles. And just have everyone look up at the night sky… and contemplate the fact that there are two trillion galaxies. Because that’s where real freedom lies.
Meanwhile, just hear me out: fall exists.
Fall foliage is the opposite of fireworks
It’s peaceful. Vibrant. Healing. It doesn’t ask for attention. It just quietly transforms everything around it into something beautiful.
Leaves don’t blast your eardrums. They don’t set fields on fire. They rustle. They dance. They glow. They set the scene for quaint, soul-warming autumnal experiences.
That’s why fall is my favorite time for family sessions on the farm.
It’s quiet. It’s grounded. It’s beautiful. And unlike fireworks, it’s not over in 10 seconds.
We’ll wander, explore, laugh. I’ll gently guide when it helps, and step back when it doesn’t.
Fall leaves do more than brighten the photos. They change the energy. There’s this mix of calm and joy that makes everything feel lighter. Families settle in, laugh, connect, and much like the leaves, reveal their true colors. No earplugs required.
🍁 Fall sessions are booking now, and they do tend to go quickly, especially weekends.
Thanks for reading. And please, if you happen to see an osprey nest during your next fireworks show… maybe say a little prayer.
