PENDLETON — At 6:58 p.m., the cul-de-sac at the top of Northwest Third Street was quiet. The sun sank in the sky and another day of self-isolation because of COVID-19 was about to fade into night.

Suddenly, doors started opening.

Neighbors stepped out onto driveways and decks. In their hands they carried noisemakers. Pots and pan lids. Cowbells. Strings of Christmas bells. Party whistles.

At the stroke of 7 on this Thursday night came a joyful explosion of noise that was brief, but cacophonous. The banging and whooping and hollering lasted about 90 seconds.

Cheryl and Howard Headley had walked from down the street to the cul-de-sac where Cheryl clashed two pot lids like cymbals and Howard blew a party horn. Jerry and Carol Redfield stood together on their driveway, Carol banging pan lids and Jerry ringing a little cowbell that once hung on his Harley. On the next driveway over, Colleen Van Cleave shook a string of bells.

Daniel and Heather Anderson and their two daughters, Olivia and Roxana, stood in the middle of the middle of the cul-de-sac and added to the din.

The neighbors began this nightly ritual about two weeks ago and gradually people from houses farther up the hill joined in from their decks, helping to raise the decibels. Dale and Amy Freeman and their extended family usually participate from their deck and sometimes walking down to the cul-de-sac from their Fourth Street home.

Such evening cheer sessions grew popular in northern Italy in early March as a way to thank exhausted medical workers there who were tending COVID-19 patients. The idea spread to other countries.

When Carolyn Featherston suggested the idea to her neighbors a few weeks ago, they liked it. On Thursday, Featherston pulled into her driveway, back from a birdwatching expedition just as the session got underway. She jumped out carrying a 100-year-old school bell that once belonged to her father and started ringing.

“I wanted to honor all the nurses and other medical professionals and first responders,” she said of her desire to start the nightly sessions. “Those are the people who keep us going.”

The sessions are also something of an emotional release from being cooped up for much of the day and they allow neighbors to check up on each other from a safe distance.

“It has brought our neighborhood closer together,” Featherston said. “It’s easy to feel isolated. This is a silver lining. We’ve become more connected as a neighborhood.”

Van Cleave leaned on her cane and smiled at her neighbors’ camaraderie.

“This is a way to make sure everyone is OK,” she said.

A few minutes later, they retreated back into their homes. They would see each other again 24 hours later, same time, same place.