Those were halcyon days; summer days without end, no cares or concerns beyond whether or not a red worm threaded on a size 10 hook could be used to fool the brook trout living under the undercut bank. There was a sense of tremendous importance as to exactly how the worm was threaded on the hook and precisely how many split shot sinkers were necessary to get the worm to bounce along the bottom into the darkness under the bank. Once the worm was bouncing along the bottom it was necessary to watch the line with great intensity, watching for any momentary hesitation in the drift which could indicate something had taken the bait. At that moment, suspended between the present and the future, time did not seem to exist.