There's a haze like thick fog that clings to the trees and the streets of Northeast, that blurs the streetlamps into fuzzy globes of light, most noticeable in low-laying areas; and the air stinks. A halo surrounds the distant moon. "It's the magic moon," my son informed us on the way to the fireworks display. "It makes wishes and dreams come true." Not a full moon though, more of a lemony shape. And yellow like a lemon, in the gloom.