The Garden Gnome

I didn’t have a name until she gave me one. I didn’t have a purpose, a home, or a place in this life. Back in those days, I had an endless sea of faces. The clinking and clanking of broken shopping carts and harsh fluorescent lights threatened to dull my final layer of matte paint.

“He’s perfect,” she exclaimed and pulled me in close to her chest. I never felt something so warm and welcoming.

“You really like him?” the young man who rescued me from my previous perch asked.

“I love him.” I never knew words from such a giant could make me feel so wanted. “I have the perfect place for him.”

The perfect place the plump woman spoke of was a mystery to me. In her arms, I couldn’t see where we were going, what made that thumping, creaking sound, or what smelled so amazing.

“Here,” she exclaimed and put me down.

Something long and tickly sprung around my feet and legs. It was damp with a smell I had never experienced before, yet it felt right and made me feel like I was where I was meant to be.

When my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I saw tall green stalks reaching right up to the sky. Others were more my size. They were thin and held these beautifully colored, fragile-looking things I just wanted to touch.

The two giant beings who brought me here chatted and admired my placement until the plump woman determined it was, in fact, perfect.

“Okay, Gunter, the Garden Gnome.” She looked me in the eyes and rested her warm, delicate finger against my cold, hard nose. “You have to protect the garden from groundhogs.”

I can do that. I didn’t know what a groundhog was, but I could do that.

“Scare them all away.”

Okay.

After I received my assignment, I sat between what she called “Morning Glories” and “Daisies.” Across from me, tall, vibrant beings slumped over, and I stared at their beautiful long petals and bright centers.

“Cosmos,” she called them.

During my time there, I learned what flowers were and their names from my friend Billy the Bullfrog. My keeper was the lovely Miss Kelly, who visited us throughout the day.

Bill showed me the different animals, the nice bugs and the not-so-nice bugs. He wanted to eat them all, so I knocked them out and brought them to him.

Day after day, I loyally stood at my post through rain, glorious sunshine, and horrendous winds. I comforted Billy during thunderstorms and kept the delicate morning glories in place. Miss Kelly adored those flowers the most and often commented on the purple colors. Every time she left the garden, she placed a flower on top of my hat and cheered me on to protect her garden.

I would die for this garden.

After one rainy night, puddles formed in the lower levels of the garden, and clouds kept my friend, the sun, from rising. From beyond the plants, I spotted the beast Miss Kelly told me about. It managed to break through the gates! It was three times the size of my body, with wide hips, a thick tail, and teeth that gnawed into a plump tomato.

Gently, I placed my carefully bestowed morning glory against the fence before I hurried over to the tomato plant. “Hey,” I shouted, waving my stiff arms. “St-stop that.”

It rudely ignored me, snorted, and continued to eat the tomato.

“Hey.” I tried again, but to no avail. It was a quick eater and was nearly done with the plump fruit. Juice dripped down its fur and covered its hands. “Stop!”

I saw nothing to grab except for a small rock. I threw it at the groundhog.

That caught its attention.

Bits of tomato and juice covered its chin as it turned its attention to me.

“Get out of here.” I put on my sternest face and puffed out my small, bulbous chest.

With a swipe of its tail, it effortlessly knocked me over.

A sudden, painful ache hit my nose. When I pulled myself up from the ground I saw, before me, a chunk of ceramic. My hand shot up, and I felt where my nose once was. Now, there was a divot.

Memories of Miss Kelly’s sweet finger gently poking the tip of my nose played through my mind. What would she have to touch when she asked for the morning report? This heinous, selfish creature took the one thing from me that Miss Kelly loved!

“My button nose,” I cried out.

The creature kept its back to me as my body boiled with rage. I hopped on the beast’s shoulders and pulled on its ears. Its fat arms reached for me, but they were too stubby. We swayed from side to side. As it tried to buck me off, I grabbed for anything I could use as a weapon. Rocks, sticks, gardening stakes, and plastic name tags smacked, stabbed, and poked the creature until it finally dropped to the ground. Then, it scurried away.

Miss Kelly’s tomato was lost, but the morning glories remained safe.

Still, one thing stood out above all else—the hunk of ceramic on the ground. A painful reminder of my initial weakness, my kindness, my stupidity. I brought my shame back with me as I assumed my post beneath the shade of the morning glories, waiting for Miss Kelly’s judgment. Surely, I would be destroyed for not protecting her plants.

I failed her.

That afternoon, I made sure to enjoy the little things. I listened to Billy’s full account of life along the garden edge in front of the turned-over bucket. I listened to the birds sing from the trees and the buzzing of bees as they worked. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful garden.

The sun was low in the sky, and the sprinklers had finished their job when I heard the door of the fence creak. Miss Kelly hummed her garden tune as her footsteps approached. A moment of silence fell over the garden. Not even the crickets made a sound.

“Oh no! My tomato.” She picked the remaining carcass from the stem and tossed it outside the garden.

I swallowed hard.

With a pop, she bent down to get a better look. I couldn’t watch.

“Gunter,” she exclaimed, and I felt myself go numb. “What happened to your nose?”

Miss Kelly lifted me into her arms. She muttered something I couldn’t make out, and before I knew it, we were walking through the garden. I was off to where plants went to die, the place from which friends never returned. I was grateful for these few remaining moments in her arms. Here, I could hear that thump I heard the day she accepted me into her life.

Step, step, crunch, crunch.

To my surprise, the back door opened, and I entered a place I had never been before. It was warm. The plants didn’t come from the ground but were suspended from the sky. There was laughter and no smell of dirt.

I was placed upon a slab of wood, and Miss Kelly sat across from me. I held still and looked into her kind eyes. Unlike our morning visits, when she usually appeared refreshed, she looked tired. Carefully, she picked up a small piece of ceramic in her hand, applied something colorless, and then held it against my face. Her comforting voice hummed a lovely, familiar tune until she removed her finger.

“Good as new,” she said with a soft smile.

With a kiss to my forehead, I was returned to my post amongst the morning glories before the sunset. I had failed Miss Kelly, lost a tomato, and she rewarded me with a repaired nose?

“Have a good night, my brave knight.”

The moment I heard the gate shut, I inspected the tip of my nose. There was barely a crack or a dent! It was amazing! She restored me to my former glory!

Another chance? I must not fail her again.

Tomorrow morning, I would not be caught off guard by the strength of the groundhog. I would not be too polite.