“To a small child, the perfect grandpa is unafraid of big dogs and fierce storms
but is absolutely terrified of the word ‘BOO’.”
It isn’t far to Tibblefork from where we live. Perfect for an easy couple of hours by the water with a fishing pole. Grandpa has never been much of a “casting rod” fisherman. He is a fly fisherman through and through. Today he brought a small casting rod for his grandsons to use. We spread out a blanket and put up a couple of chairs. We had lunchables, licorice, water and apples. We had buckets and scoops. We had an umbrella which we couldn’t put up because the wind was blowing. Grandpa had his fishing vest. I had my camera. The boys had hats and sunglasses. Talmage was very interested in fishing and learning. He paid attention and Grandpa patiently worked with him. His little brother was more interested in chasing the little critters who lived in holes in the ground and feeding licorice to them. I was interested in watching. When it was time to go, no fish had taken the bait. Oh, well. Good reason to come back another day. Next time, maybe in the morning.
“Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.”