Gnome Hunting: Part 6 & Conclusions

Continued from Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and the 13 Characteristics List

After we'd seen the gnome cruelly tormenting the dog, my mother interrupted the hunt and said it was time to roast marshmallows. The gnomes must have been drawn to the activity around the firepit in the back yard because I happened across several more before the evening ended. I pretended I was taking family photos, but in actuality I was still on the hunt. My brother narrowly avoided losing a finger to this one when he was building up the fire.

My husband had a similar encounter with the skitter that had cleverly hidden itself the one place all humans on a marshmallow roast would have to go at least once. As you can see, this little bastid was beginning the color change that would have made him indistinguishable from the bag to the naked human eye.

There was also a gnome inspecting my children’s outdoor mural--right there in the open. I chased it on a weaving path into the growth at the corner of the patio, where I promptly lost track of it.

It was an odd gnome that dashed hither and yon--it couldn’t seem to run a straight line, even though gnomes, in my experience, are much more direct. I don’t know what was wrong with it and I sure didn’t touch it, but it would be nice to think it had picked up some Fey illness that would spread to the other gnomes and prune the populace.

Even though it was right there in the middle of the festivities, everyone claimed they thought I was chasing a stray firework. I never have been able to get my mother to admit the gnomes are a problem and perhaps she should get some more dogs. Or pigs. Gnomes don’t like pigs any more than they like dogs, so pig farms, even when remote (as all pig farms should be), are rarely plagued by gnomes. Perhaps with this photographic proof she’ll be forced to confront the situation.

A little tired from my erratic dash after the sickly gnome, it was then I realized perhaps my brother had had too many beers (pictured), as had my husband (not pictured). Case in point, hubby was the one in charge of the marshmallows. He claims not to believe gnomes are a threat to humanity (or even alive outside my crazy books that he refuses to read because they have mushy love stuff in them), but which kid, exactly, did he think he was handing this stick to???

And so, the great gnome hunt of Summer 2008 came to a rather abrupt and sticky halt, plus it was past the kids’ bedtime and my brother desperately needed some coffee. Black.

***

As I look back on the experience, I realize I’ve learned that gnomes might be endemic, but like poison ivy or kudzu, there seems to be no way to get rid of them without great personal discomfort and danger to one’s health. And no matter how many precautions I take, no matter where I wear my waders, no matter how many cayenne plants I grow around my house or encourage my mother to grow around her house, I know this final image will haunt my dreams for a long time to come.

Good luck to you all, and keep a sharp watch--and a sharp stick--where ever you may go.

JW

PS: My wacky brother is a musician in the Fort Worth, TX, area. Check out his bands and musical offerings here.