Back to work. Got an email today, a steamy hot July day, that started: “Are you working on any National Ice Cream Day (July 17) stories? If so, please consider…” Not my beat, unfortunately.

We didn’t troop out to any public space to see a professional fireworks on July 4 this year. Rather, we listened to the numerous private explosions — at least I did — from the comfort of the backyard deck. Temps were just right, the wind had died down, and the small amount of rain we’d had a few hours before dark had most dried up.

Such pyrotechnics are banned under Illinois law. Or at least all the fun stuff is outlawed. It’s a law that goes unenforced after dark on Independence Day, or much before dark that day, unless (I suppose), you decided (for example) to shoot off bottle rockets in front of a cop. Or at a cop. Assuming you survived such an act, that would probably earn a fine at least.

I’ve heard private July 4 fireworks every year that I’ve lived in Illinois and been here for the holiday, but my impression is that the unsanctioned explosions ramped up in quantity and quality beginning in 2020. That year, we arrived home from Prairie du Chien on the Fourth, and soon watched from the front yard as the block lit up with more fireworks than ever before. I don’t know about last year — we went to Westmont for the show — but the trend seems to have carried on this year.

Then again, location probably matters. Fifteen years ago (was it that long ago?), we were treated to a lot of fine explosions in one of the rural parts of Grundy County, Illinois. This year, I didn’t bother with Grundy or even my front yard. I parked myself on my deck and decided to listen.

Peak illegal fireworks, between about 9 p.m. and 10 p.m., was a richly layered aural experience: rumbling every few seconds off in the far distance, pops and whizzing in the mid-distance almost as often, and BANGS nearby pretty often, all mixed together in a mildly noisy stew, except for those close-by BANGS, which weren’t mild at all. The distant rumbles sounded almost the same as distant thunder, but not quite, if you listened closely. Sometimes you could see fireworks out in the mid-distance, pops of gold and green and blue and red, but this year sound was the thing.

At roughly the same time as ambient explosions peaked, the legal fireworks display at the ballpark about a mile away was, as usual, just visible over a line of trees. I also think I barely heard, and barely saw, the legal fireworks display in Elgin as well, some miles distant to the west. At about 9:30, I heard a massive number of small explosions, as you usually do for the finale of such a show — but faintly — in roughly the right direction as Elgin. I could also see a pale but expanding glow simultaneously with the noise.

By about 10, most of the noise was gone, though of course there were scattered booms and pops until nearly midnight, when nature decided to make some noise of its own. A large thunderstorm barreled through the area, dropping a few inches of rain and conclusively putting an end to this year’s Independence Day explosions.