The Fourth of July is a time spent with family and friends, sharing cold beverages, eating barbeque, and laughing on a lazy, hazy summer day. No better way to experience these things then in Small-Town America, where everyone is nodding and waving, offering lemonade to passers-by, and entering raffles for local charities.

Snow Hill, Maryland has its fireworks and Fourth of July celebrations on the Third of July, and this year it happened to fall on the first Friday of the month. It's on these Fridays that Snow Hill hosts an "Arts on the River Fest", where local shops and galleries have special events and some hit the streets with their new exhibits. In keeping with the local tradition, participating shops hang black lanterns outside in order to let everyone know they are in on the fun.

With the atmosphere of local artists and neighbors walking the streets, admiring local talent, with lemonade being sold by the soccer team as fundraiser, with the banisters adorned with American Flag themed ribbons, this town was bustling with good old fashion summer fun.

People bounced between the art and the waterfront, carrying barbeque from the grills set up by the riverside. They talked of the local haunted houses and artists as if they were everyone's local treasures.

As the sun began to inch its way to the horizon line, Melanie, Jim Rapp, and I made our way to the canoe and kayak shop in town called Pocomoke River Company. Here we stepped into our soon-to-be seats for the firework display later that night.

As we drifted along the Pocomoke River, flat and still as glass, we took in all the beauty surrounding us. Deep in the woods a symphony of barred owl could be heard as the sun continued to set. Rowing a bit further, the sounds of the nearby town were left far behind; the boat set steadfast on the water and the sound of silence permeated through the dusk.

As the trees that surrounded us sounded the death knell for the sun, we moved up closer to the bridge in town and situated ourselves on the river in preparations for the fireworks to come. The same people that had been moseying through the streets of Snow Hill, were now gathered in the parks, around the river beds, and on the bridge ready to witness the spectacle that are fireworks.

From our vantage point, the fireworks seemed to be coming right out of the heart of the town; little bursts of celebration as if the town itself was leaking fun and excitement.

While the grand finale went off, Ron, from Pocomoke pulled us back to shore. We stayed for a bit to chat about the town, things that passed, and things to come, and we were off as the traffic began to die.

Even though it was so all American, the stuff John Steinbeck books seemed to be based on, I can't say I have celebrated our nations capitol in a more unique and interesting place.