The weather had been dry lately, so for Grandpa to be able to coax the worms out of the ground, he had to turn on the sprinkler for awhile so that they would be easier for us to catch. After supper was over and the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, Grandpa and I headed outside with a bucket full of dampened newspaper, and a flashlight with a red bandana covering the lens. The filtered light would keep the worms from being so sensitive to the light as we shined it on the ground.
Grandpa and I both scanned the ground beneath our feet in search of any kind of movement among the blades of grass. I hollered to Grandpa and said, “Look, there is a really big one slithering across the sidewalk.” I quickly made a grab for it . Once I felt the slimy ooze the worm emitted onto my hand, I just as quickly dropped it back toward the ground. Grandpa pushed me out of the way and made quick work of getting it into our worm bucket. I then was mildly scolded for making way too much noise. After a few more brave attempts on my part, I was soon getting the knack of yanking those tantalizing tidbits out of their holes. After about an hour or so, we had all we needed for tomorrow’s fishing expedition.
As I lay in bed that night, waiting to go to sleep, I could hear the 10 p.m. news echoing down the hallway. As the weatherman finished up his report, I could vaguely hear him mention something about thunderstorms tomorrow afternoon, as I finally drifted off to sleep. I loved sleeping at Grandpa and Grandma’s house because the over-stuffed feather bed seemed to wrap me up like a cocoon, and the handmade quilt kept me warm on cool nights.