Today, I’m taking a cue from my friend Amy over at Marvelous Memories and giving a nod to something I care more about than the Duck Dynasty “scandal.” For all that it matters, measuring the ambient temperature of saliva gets a higher rating on my care-o-meter than Duck Dynasty hoopla.
So here it is, my happy thought, my random tip-of-the-hat, my overuse of hyphenated phrases, and a guilty pleasure confession: Gnomes. I love me some garden gnomes.
I have searched through my personal history and memory and have concluded I picked up this kitschy love for lawn tschotskes from my childhood visits to Rock City in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and it grew from there. Those Fairy Tale Caverns are seductive to an overactive imagination. Then in later childhood, I discovered the book Gnomes in my middle school library. As an adult I have a copy of that very book on my bookshelves, because it still delights me more than 20 years later. During a high school musical post-show scavenger hunt, one of the tech guys stole a garden gnome from someone’s yard, and it became a bit of a mascot. (Good times.) I even dressed as a gnome for Halloween one year and have a couple garden gnomes in my backyard flower bed.
I know garden gnomes are cheesy, right next door to tacky, and that is their appeal. They make me laugh. Some are creepy. Some are rude. And some have taken full advantage of the zombie phenomenon. They crop up in pop culture, like two movies on my Favorite Movies of All Time List, Amelie and The Full Monty. I would have loved those movies without the gnomes, they were just an added bonus. Gnomes aren’t important or controversial (although, they could be, if you belong to an HOA). Gnomes are a bit of fluff that make me happy and bring a smile to my face. More smiles are good. Warm fuzzies are even better.
In celebration of cheesy lawn ornaments and the quirky nature of those who collect them, including yours truly, here is a celebration of gnomes for your viewing pleasure:
And a couple of these guys, just because: