Friday’s balloon parade would have been enough sky wonder to last me for days, but Saturday, we went to the annual kite festival by the river.
See that middle one? It started out like this:
But eventually . . .
With a good tailwind and enough line (and one expert wrangler whose forearms must be like Popeye’s) . . .
Anything is possible:
Scores of amateur flyers brought out their own gorgeous windpets:
The Wesson kites were, of course, made of the finest materials . . .
. . . But it didn’t matter. That homely paper sucker stayed up for the better part of an hour—a testimony to the dedication of an eight-year old and the tenacity of paint-tape.
Meanwhile, Sunny learned a new skill in the play area . . .
She’s tenacious, too!
The way this weekend went, I thought we’d learn to fly today without benefit of airplane, but it rained instead. That’s okay—I’m grateful it held back long enough to give us two days of color. And a couple of pretty good kite analogies, too.