Evidence of some sort of celebration...

Along the main drive are popped balloons.
And the lake's far side is orchid-festooned.
They lie forlornly in the wet evening air,
Cast-aside relics of some festive affair.

I first noticed the balloons, raucously colored;
Garish rubber popped amid green living leaves.
They lie forlornly in the wet evening air,
Cast-aside relics of some festive affair.

On the path to the lake-clearing, orchids are strewn,
White-petaled florets smashed in the dirt.
They lie forlornly in the wet evening air,
Cast-aside relics of some festive affair.

When might this have happened, this festive affair?
Who was invited, and why wasn't I there?
I ponder these questions after picking them up:
Those cast-aside relics of lying in the wet evening air.