One year gramps put out corn on one section of ground and felt that he could hand pick it-didn't need to bother with a combine. So, I helped pull the ears off, threw them into a wagon and cut the stalks down. Gramps came back later and placed all the stalks into massive cornshalks. Then he and gramma took their annual fishing trip to Tomahawk Lake, Wisconsin. It was the same weekend as our fireworks war. The cornshalks made for great hiding places and launching sites-because they were large enough to climb inside and supported your weight to climb on top........well, for 11 year olds.
So a friend of mine drops some "ammunition" into the shalk.....and it erupts into flames. The four of us formed a bucket brigade from gramp's barn-several hundred feet away. I was concerned that it would catch the rest of the field on fire-of course, it didn't. The charred remains of the cornshalk had to have made gramps wonder, but he didn't say anything. Grampas are good at keeping secrets from moms and dads.