The field is perfectly black. The only light comes from the densely scattered stars. Without ground lights they shine with surprising intensity for those of us used to streetlights or even headlights. A murmur goes through the crowd as they shift on their feet. It's a bit chilly - this November has been mild, but outside at night the cold can enter your bones. The sounds of the river come clearly through the air.
Somewhere on the next hill a light appears. In a moment a string of them appear, spinning elegantly in pinwheels. The energy comes from solar cells that charged all day, attached to the arms of a hilltop full of windmills.
From the ends come a shower of sparks, lighting the sky further. They are only partially fireworks; at the end of each windmill's arms are bags of wildflower seeds that will be scattered across the hilltop. In spring the windmills will stand among hundreds of different blooms.
A cheer goes up from the watchers as lights closer to us brighten into life. Tables are laid out with different foods - we all brought something homemade, from local ingredients. A series of old, man-powered rides are set up for the kids, merry-go-rounds and giant swings.
A portable water-powered generator is supplying the electricity for lengths of small lights hanging over our heads and for the heated tables that keep the appropriate food warm.
One table, shielded from the wind, has origami paper made from recycled paper on it. We are filling giant transparent balloons, also made from recycled material, with helium and paper cranes. They float above our heads, more than a thousand. Enough for several wishes.
Today is the first world peace day to celebrate peace, instead of the dream of peace.
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