Most parades can be quite demanding. They require a lawn chair, a strategic parking plan and the patience to endure people marching in line before the “good” float finally rolls through.

The Left Hand Artist Group Absolutely Absurd April Fool’s Day Parade is not most parades. And a bonus if you are a resident at one of the senior living facilities along Pratt Street: You don’t have to do a thing. The absurdity, the bubbles, the kazoos and the gaggle of artists dressed like a Lisa Frank fever dream will all roll right up your window.

At the very specific time of 5:47 p.m. on April 1, a collection of what organizers call “well-behaved humans and animals” will gather near Roosevelt Park. At another very specific time of 6:18 p.m., they will begin marching, or, probably more appropriately, drifting forward. If that timing seems odd, well, that’s because it is.

“The 5:47 and the 6:18 are about a half hour apart, but it’s also absurd,” said Amy Heneghan, the parade’s founder. “We try to keep it funny and light.”

The group embarks on a short route through town, sticking to sidewalks, avoiding street closures and operating without permits or formal structure. This is the sixth year for the April Fool’s Day parade, and it rarely looks the same twice.

What has stayed the same is the route. During the pandemic, organizers shifted the parade to pass by senior living facilities that had been cut off from visitors.

“Those facilities were hit so hard. They lost a lot of residents, and they weren’t allowed to have visitors,” Heneghan said. “As far as I’m concerned, I’d love for that to always be the route. It makes it multi-generational. You might have little kids coming by and seeing the residents, and it brings them a lot of joy.”

The group reaches out to Village on Main and St. Vrain Manor ahead of the parade and gives out props, feather boas, Mardi Gras beads and oversized sunglasses so residents can join in the fun from porches or windows. For many, that’s as close as they can get.

“The senior centers expect us every year. They come out and cheer us on,” said Linda Cranston, president of the Left Hand Artist Group. “It’s not like the other parades on Main where they close Main and people line up in chairs to watch. It’s almost like we’re parading for ourselves, which is OK. But the seniors are our most captive audience, I have to say.”

Cranston has participated in every parade since it began and said its size has remained relatively small, shaped by weather — and whatever day of the week April 1 falls on.

“It’s still really small, and we like it that way,” she said.

That approach has also kept things simple: The small number of people means there is no need for street closures, large parade floats, or formal approvals.

“We keep asking the City of Longmont about permits, and they say, ‘No, you don’t need one,’” Heneghan said. “I think part of that is because we stick to the sidewalk, so we’re not blocking streets or anything. We’ve asked permission many times, and they say, ‘Just go for it.’ So we’re able to march on the sidewalks and parade foolishly through town.”

The parade reflects the broader structure of the Left Hand Artist Group, a loose, volunteer-run collective open to anyone who wants to participate. There are no membership fees, and no formal barrier to entry.

The parade is the most public-facing project of the Left Hand Artist Group (LHAG), a Longmont-based nonprofit arts collective founded by artist — and former Left Hand Brewery worker — Don Wilson. The group started informally, with artists gathering in a warehouse space at the brewery.

“It was really kind of a grassroots movement, and it just grew and grew,” Cranston said.

Wilson later began salvaging boxes of discarded beer labels at work and turning them into art, an idea that became the group’s long-running “Label Show” fundraiser.

“We’re a creative collective dedicated to building a community of arts, music and friendship. That is our mission statement,” Cranston said.

The group hangs work in seven local venues, including Oskar Blues and Wibby Brewing, rotating art every four to six weeks. The Left Hand Artist Group takes a 20% commission, while the rest goes directly to the artists.

“We hang art from beginner to more advanced artists,” Cranston said. “I’m starting to think that my mission is to help other people sell art. I feel like that is my calling in life.”

That same open structure carries over into the parade. There is no formal dress code, but the result tends toward the colorful and the chaotic.

“It’s definitely grassroots. It’s not a city thing,” Cranston said. “It’s just a bunch of artists and creatives getting together and being silly on April Fool’s Day.”

Before the parade begins, participants gather for what organizers call a “karma wash,” using bubbles and feather dusters to give each other a quick pre-parade reset.

“We’ve done it as sort of a pay-it-forward thing, where you get your cobwebs dusted off, and then you do the next person that comes through,” Heneghan said. “It leaves people feeling good and ready to march through town.”

For drivers passing through town, the scene can be unexpected.

“Traffic going by, especially on Main, people are like, ‘What is this town?’” Cranston said. “There’ll be a dinosaur and clowns and all kinds of things. People look over like, ‘Oh my God, what is this?’ It’s hysterical, really.”

The route loops from Roosevelt Park down Pratt Street, across 6th Avenue, up Main Street to Longs Peak Avenue and back, usually in under an hour.

“I just hope people come away thinking, ‘Oh, that was wonderful. That’s what my soul needed,” Heneghan said. “Just being dressed colorfully and participating in something silly and absurd.”

Visit lefthandartistgroup.org to learn more about the arts organization.