The Fishing Hole

Spending time with grandparents creates memories that will last a lifetime.  Unfortunately, sometimes you wish they wouldn't last quite so long.

The grandsons have discovered the lure of the creek.  There is something about the cool, shady running water that draws kids like a magnet.  Our little creek, which sometimes dries up in drought times, has run happily all summer thanks to a big lake that was built upstream.  The lake, which is large and beautiful, leaks, which keeps a steady flow of water trickling into the creek bed.    Our son has helped this along, since the neighbor has allowed him to open the dam a little when he needs to water tobacco.  Thank you good neighbor!  Along with the water has come a steady trickle of fish, some big enough to catch.

They have been setting a minnow trap for some time to put fish in our little pond behind the barn.  Now, they have added the excitement of fishing to their trips to check the minnow trap.  One hot day, they talked their grandfather into accompanying them on their trip.  The three boys and hubby set off happily with fishing rods over their shoulders.  (Think Opie and Andy here times three)

First order of business was to check the minnow trap and rebait it with some bread pilfered from my kitchen.  The minnows were transferred to a minnow bucket and placed in the shallows for later.  Thank goodness, no snakes had joined the minnows this time.  Then they decided on which spot they would use for their fishing.  A good shady hole was found and they begin to get their poles ready. 

Now anyone who has ever fished with a four year old and a six year old, knows that the only fishing done will be by them.  Your job as supervising adult is to bait hooks, remove fish (hopefully), untangle lines, and keep the little ones from hooking you or each other.   Believe me it's a full time job.  Which is why I volunteered to stay at the house and the fourteen old removed himself up the creek.

Hubby had things pretty much under control when the six year old hooked a branch in a wild cast.  With a sigh of resignation, hubby began to tug on the line hoping to loosen the hook.  He walked his way and that up and down the bank trying to dislodge the tangled line. No luck.  He decided that he could work it loose if he changed the angle of attack, so he stepped onto a rock just out from the creek bank.  It was working...just one more little tug.  The rock shifted and the inevitable happened.  Hubby went ass over teakettle into the creek.  Naturally, the boys thought it was hysterically funny.  Hubby didn't.  I suspect their vocabulary grew with a few more words that will cause their teachers to write notes home.

Dignity injured but otherwise unhurt, hubby declared the fishing trip ended.  When they arrived at the back porch hubby looked a lot like I'm used to seeing the boys, muddy from head to toe and water squishing out of his shoes.  He started for the house, but I was ready for him.  "Not on your life, bud."  I laughed.  "You get to change outside just like the little boys do."  Looking down at his muddy clothes he shook his head and started stripping. 

Boy, it's a good thing we live in the country!