My family members are outspoken in their opinions about gardening and they’ve let me know they hate my tiny gnomes and want me to stop showing pictures of them in the garden blog. Why did I ever fork out money for the little gnome I found locally, then weaken when I found a similar little one in a garden shop in Boston? I can only believe I was under their spell or maybe it was all due to subliminal exposure of the Travelocity ads on television.
The last time I was in Richmond to dine with my family at a popular little downtown restaurant, my brother pulled his car up behind mine. He stepped out and said, “Open your trunk.”
“Just open it,” he said as he disappeared behind his car and popped his trunk. I opened my trunk as he slowly approached with something quite heavy, cradling it like a baby. Why, it was a real gnome! An original antique gnome! A lovely aged big fella, a real Papa Gnome with a full beard and a long pipe.
“Now,” he said. “Get rid of those silly gnomes. This is the only gnome we want to see in your garden….”
So, beneath the birdbath in the middle of a bed of daisies stands the new-old gnome, once painted now faded with age. He seems wise, much wiser than my little Travelocity gnomes who have been banished far away. I’m sure this gnome will watch over the gardens and protect them. And we will need his protection and any garden assistance he can give us because at the end of June smack in the middle of the yard will be a wedding reception for our youngest daughter. Papa Gnome arrived just in the nick of time.
Ann Hohenberger, The Garden Club of Gloucester