Garden Gnome

The hot dry spell we are in has left the ground rather parched. I have been obligated to water the garden on a daily basis less everything shrivel up. It has become part of my morning routine, and it is almost meditative in nature. Just me, the flowers and the bees.

 

This morning I was basking in the cool morning air and taking in the sweet scent of the flowers when I was startled back to reality. I heard rustling noises come from another part of the garden. I feared the worst – Could it be a ground hog? A saboteur from one of my competing gardeners? My wife coming to complain I forget to take out the garbage?

I climbed up on a log for a better vantage point. I privately resolved that I would be polite and friendly until I figured out if was friend or foe.

To my complete surprise, a gnome waddled out of the flowers and plopped down next to the log. We both said to each other simultaneously “welcome to my garden!” Okay that was a bit weird.

I had grown up hearing stories about gnomes from my grandmother. I had always thought they were just fairie tales. But, here I am with a living breathing gnome.

A thing or two you should know about my grandmother. She was one of those 1960s environmental activist types. She was big on “flower power.” Here is a photo of her. To be quite honest, she told some crazy stories of her adventures, and I thought most of them were made up. Apparently they weren’t.

 

Gnome thinking to himself: “A talking chipmunk?! I must have drank more than I thought. It sure is cute and cuddly. Ya know what, I think this would make a great pet for my wife. If she had a pet that would sit on her lap and listen to her talk for hours on end … well, she might stop nagging me all the time. Now how do I capture it and what do I carry it home in?”

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Chippy. I live at the Woodpile.”  The gnome introduced himself as “Wandering Joe” from the Oak Tree village.

What exactly do you talk to a gnome about? “Well, umm, you gnomes sure have big paws.” I could fit my entire body inside his boot. Wandering Joe offered to let me try his boot on. His eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam which was rather unsettling. I politely declined the offer.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of exotic sunflower seeds which he placed on the brim of his hat. The smell was irresistible. I could not stop myself from getting closer and closer to them.

The taste was heavenly. For a brief moment I was completely distracted by the seeds. Suddenly, out of the corner of eye, I caught the motion of his hand rising up to grab the hat. I swear he planned on tossing me up and plucking me out of mid-air like a butterfly in a net. I jumped clear and he made no move towards me. It must have been my imagination.

I decided I needed to know more about this fellow. I called his attention to some rare orchids in garden while I rifled through its pocket for any clues. I found a few coins, a half empty bottle of mead, and a grocery list. What would Sherlock Holmes deduct from these clues? It is elementary - The wife sent him shopping but he bought a bottle of booze instead and half drunk wandered into my garden.

I confronted him and he confessed. He even admitted he harbored secret plans to kidnap me and turn me into a lap pet for his wife.

I crawled up to his ear and whispered, that I thought gnomes were just fictional characters in children’s fairie tales. We both had a good laugh and polished off the rest of his bottle of mead.