have this cane pole, maybe I’ll let you fish from the canoe by yourself. I’m just as happy fishing from the bank, and I know how much you want to try that collapsible boat.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her father shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Maybe it’s meant for deeper water. Anyway, fishing from the bank has always been a more exciting way to catch fish.”
“Drier, too,” Carole added with a giggle.
They left the collapsible canoe in a waterlogged heap and squished over to the big tree. Carole carried her cane pole while her Dad took a graphite rod with a vast array of lures and flies. They sat on one of the huge tree roots that overhung the creek.
“What are you fishing with today?” Colonel Hanson asked as he opened his tackle box.
“A worm, I suppose,” Carole said. Worms were what she had always fished with. There was no reason to change now.
“You want me to find one for you and bait your hook?” Colonel Hanson asked.
“No thanks, Dad. I can do it.” Carole hopped off the root and dug around in the soft earth beneath the tree. In a moment she found several long, crawling worms.
Ugh
, she thought as she picked the longest one up.
I don’t remember them being quite this squirmy
. Carefully she grabbed her fishhook in one hand and held the worm in the other. She didn’t like the idea of having to thread the sharp hook through the worm’s body, but she didn’t want to admit that to her father. She wished she could close her eyes, but she didn’t dare do that if she wanted to avoid piercing her own thumb with the hook.
Yuck!
She thought.
This is really not as much fun as I remembered
. Taking a deep breath, she open her eyes wide and threaded the worm on the hook as quickly as she could. Then she swung her line out into the middle of the creek.
For the next several hours they fished, or in Carole’s case, drowned a helpless worm. Colonel Hanson spent most of his time either adjusting his line or changing his lures. By the time they ate their sandwiches, neither had had a single nibble, and by the time the mosquitoes came out for their own dinner in the late afternoon, Colonel Hanson was ready to call it quits.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted,” hesaid, reeling in his line for the final time. “I wonder where all these dumb fish are?”
“Maybe they sent out for pizza last night and they’re not hungry today,” Carole said with a relieved giggle. At least she wouldn’t have to kill another worm.
“Well, this day really turned out to be a bust,” Colonel Hanson laughed. “First I burn the pancakes, then we capsize the boat, then we fish all day and don’t get one bite! Has anything gone right?”
Carole thought for a minute. “Yup,” she said. “Two things, in fact.”
“Name ’em,” her father said.
“One is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine, so our clothes are completely dry.”
“That’s one.”
“And the other is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine.”
“That’s two,” said the colonel, giving his daughter a hug and a kiss.
C AROLE AND HER father lugged the waterlogged canoe back into their campsite just as the sun was beginning to set through the tops of the pine trees.
“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could collapse almost as easily as a collapsible canoe!” Colonel Hanson laughed, but Carole could see beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.
“I know,” Carole said. “It was a pretty rough climb. Why don’t you relax for a while? It’s my turn to cook supper, anyway.”
“Okay. Let me charge up the cookstove for you,” Colonel Hanson said.
Carole shook her head. “Thanks, Dad, but tonight I just want to build a regular old fire and have regular old hot dogs cooked over it.”
“That sounds great, but wouldn’t it be easier on the solar stove?”
“Maybe. But I want to try it first this way.”
Colonel Hanson laughed. “Okay. You’re the chef. I think I’ll stretch
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her father shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Maybe it’s meant for deeper water. Anyway, fishing from the bank has always been a more exciting way to catch fish.”
“Drier, too,” Carole added with a giggle.
They left the collapsible canoe in a waterlogged heap and squished over to the big tree. Carole carried her cane pole while her Dad took a graphite rod with a vast array of lures and flies. They sat on one of the huge tree roots that overhung the creek.
“What are you fishing with today?” Colonel Hanson asked as he opened his tackle box.
“A worm, I suppose,” Carole said. Worms were what she had always fished with. There was no reason to change now.
“You want me to find one for you and bait your hook?” Colonel Hanson asked.
“No thanks, Dad. I can do it.” Carole hopped off the root and dug around in the soft earth beneath the tree. In a moment she found several long, crawling worms.
Ugh
, she thought as she picked the longest one up.
I don’t remember them being quite this squirmy
. Carefully she grabbed her fishhook in one hand and held the worm in the other. She didn’t like the idea of having to thread the sharp hook through the worm’s body, but she didn’t want to admit that to her father. She wished she could close her eyes, but she didn’t dare do that if she wanted to avoid piercing her own thumb with the hook.
Yuck!
She thought.
This is really not as much fun as I remembered
. Taking a deep breath, she open her eyes wide and threaded the worm on the hook as quickly as she could. Then she swung her line out into the middle of the creek.
For the next several hours they fished, or in Carole’s case, drowned a helpless worm. Colonel Hanson spent most of his time either adjusting his line or changing his lures. By the time they ate their sandwiches, neither had had a single nibble, and by the time the mosquitoes came out for their own dinner in the late afternoon, Colonel Hanson was ready to call it quits.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted,” hesaid, reeling in his line for the final time. “I wonder where all these dumb fish are?”
“Maybe they sent out for pizza last night and they’re not hungry today,” Carole said with a relieved giggle. At least she wouldn’t have to kill another worm.
“Well, this day really turned out to be a bust,” Colonel Hanson laughed. “First I burn the pancakes, then we capsize the boat, then we fish all day and don’t get one bite! Has anything gone right?”
Carole thought for a minute. “Yup,” she said. “Two things, in fact.”
“Name ’em,” her father said.
“One is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine, so our clothes are completely dry.”
“That’s one.”
“And the other is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine.”
“That’s two,” said the colonel, giving his daughter a hug and a kiss.
C AROLE AND HER father lugged the waterlogged canoe back into their campsite just as the sun was beginning to set through the tops of the pine trees.
“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could collapse almost as easily as a collapsible canoe!” Colonel Hanson laughed, but Carole could see beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.
“I know,” Carole said. “It was a pretty rough climb. Why don’t you relax for a while? It’s my turn to cook supper, anyway.”
“Okay. Let me charge up the cookstove for you,” Colonel Hanson said.
Carole shook her head. “Thanks, Dad, but tonight I just want to build a regular old fire and have regular old hot dogs cooked over it.”
“That sounds great, but wouldn’t it be easier on the solar stove?”
“Maybe. But I want to try it first this way.”
Colonel Hanson laughed. “Okay. You’re the chef. I think I’ll stretch
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