Garden Gnome

GARDEN GNOME

It was a warm sunny August day.
Mrs. Hughes stood in her garden enjoying the sunshine, the sounds of insects and the bleating of next door's sheep -- newly removed from their mothers -- came to her ears.
She was gazing fondly on her garden gnome -- who seemed to be a little more plump than usual -- but she was sure that was just a trick of the light.

She heard the creak of the garden gate and looked up to see one of her daughters striding up the garden path.

'Still gawping at that stupid gnome are you mum?'her daughter said in a catty sort of voice.
'Admiring him really. I think he's got character! And I love him even more because you girls gave him to me for my .... my fortieth birthday, wasn't it?'
Her daughter shook her head, 'No Mum! We didn't give you that bloody gnome. We gave you an apple tree that you broke up and put in the trash.'
Mrs Hughes gave a start, 'I don't recall you ever giving me an apple tree. I think I'd remember if you had. All your gifts to me are my treasures.'
'You trashed it!' Cheryl said accusingly, tears coming into her eyes.
Mrs. Hughes was embarrassed, both by the accusation and by the tears in her forty something daughters eyes.
'We were all upset and decided not to speak to you -- it's one of the reasons we stopped bothering with you.'

It hurt to hear that. She remembered back. Her husband had died not long after that birthday of hers. She assumed that the girls had been too upset to visit her often.
Her daughter was speaking '.....and if you give me the list I'll get your shopping.'
Mrs Hughes shuffled slowly into the kitchen.
Reaching for her list, she again remembered back to the day she had been sent out into the garden find her birthday present and had found her lovely gnome -- he was standing on the edge of the pond, looking into its depths almost. Some trimmings had been tangled round him -- she'd put them in the bin.
Those trimmings! They must have been the remnants of the apple tree! She had assumed at the time that her husband had been working in the neighbours garden, as he usually did for the old lady next door and had thrown loppings over into their garden for later disposal.
'Cheryl!' her daughter hovered outside the back door. 'Cheryl darling, please come in here.'
'Mum I have better things to do with my time!'
'Please Cheryl -- I need to tell you about the gnome ....'she saw the look on her daughters face.
'About the apple tree too ....... at least I think that must have been ........'then tears came to her own eyes. Oh why hadn't they said something at the time?
Cheryl stood in the doorway and bad- naturedly said, 'What!'

Mrs Hughes took a deep breath, 'When I went out into the garden that day, I found the gnome and he was surrounded by what I assumed were loppings from next door ....... you know your dad ......'
'Yeah, yeah ...... he helped out old Mrs C. '
'Well I assumed .... but maybe they were from the apple tree .... maybe someone had ....'
'Dad would never have done .....'
'No, not your dad! Remember we had trouble with those boys and the phone box, they pulled up Mrs C's begonias too ...... roots and all! Maybe ....'
'I don't remember that ....'
'You go and ask old Mr. Cox .... he'll remember ...chased them out of the village he did. I remember because it was just before your dad died.'
'So where'd the gnome come from?'
'Maybe those lads put him there -- took him from somewhere else ...... that's all I can think. If only you'd told me ..... we could have asked at the time.'
Cheryl looked at her mum uncertainly, the years had added layers of suspicion and resentment.
'Let's get the shopping done Mum. I can't leave himself with the kids for too long.'
*******
The gnome stood his ground. He had been standing there so long that he understood most words of the english language -- and a few welsh ones besides.
He felt threatened.

In those early days, he hadn't realised how these people treasured certain items of greenery. Where he had come from all the greenery looked much the same. Guilt was an emotion that was not quite new to him and he felt it now, quite strongly.
It had been, he had to admit, unfortunate timing. He had fallen out of the sky, had survived and was tired, hungry and cold. So he had eaten the greenery that looked most like the stuff of home. It had given him a terrible windy
pain -- but it had kept him alive.

This garden was now his world -- he loved it too. Now, he helped Mrs Hughes with the weeding -- his insides liked most of the plants -- dandelions were his favourite.
He even fed the fish -- and Mrs Hughes never counted them.
A veteran now of some thirty three summers, he knew what he could eat and what he had to leave, but he hadn't known it that day he'd fallen to earth and had landed 'plop' in the garden pond he now still guarded.
He could barely remember the world he'd been born on.

With fear, he feared the loneliness that would bear down on him if Mrs Hughes ever stopped her near-daily conversations with him. He had grown to love her.
A tear rolled down his seemingly made-of-plastic face and landed in the fish pond.
*****

Some few days later .... gnome was in the garden when Cheryl came down the path and, after knocking on the back door, called out to her mother.
'Hi Mum ... can I come in for a cuppa?'

Tea made and biscuits found, Mrs Hughes and Cheryl could be seen sitting on the patio chairs.

Mrs Hughes reached forward carefully and picked gnome up, surprised at his weight, he felt a little warm from the sunshine.
'Cheryl ...... if I had known about the apple tree, I would have cherished it as much as this little fella here. So from now on I'll call him Apple-Seed and hug him every day to say thank you for such a lovely gift.'
'Mum ...... I'm, well we're sorry, so we've bought you a new apple tree. I thought we should maybe plant it out this afternoon, it's in the car ...... shall I go and get it?'
All Mrs Hughes could do was nod her head and hugging gnome so tight he could barely breathe, she followed her daughter down the garden path.
*******