|The late Garden Gnome|
The garden had become so full of flowers that Mr. Gnome was partially obscured from view. If you knew where he was, you could see him, but he was small and didn't draw your eye if you weren't aware of his presence. I should have moved him to a more prominent place in the garden, but I thought he liked his secluded little spot. Maybe he did, but it led to his untimely death.
See ... It all started when my husband offered to teach me how to use our gigantic Kubota zero-turn radius lawn mower (lawn tractor?). I said "sure" and started cruising around the backyard without the blade engaged so I could get a feel for the weird steering. After I learned how to not run into trees, the swingset, the fence, etc., we put the blade down and I was cutting grass! I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that the experience got me all hyped up on testosterone (MORE POWER!) and mowing the grass wasn't meeting my power needs.
|This isn't me, but it's the kind of lawn mower we have (or at least really similar). It's from the Kubota website.|
Here's where the story takes its tragic turn. We had 3 wildflower garden beds that needed to be mowed over. They had gone from beautiful, lush wildflowers to scraggly weeds and it was time for them to go. Being all testoster-stoned (see what I did there? hahaha), I volunteered for the job. I forgot about my Garden Gnome in the largest flower bed. I ran right through the middle of the bed and am pretty sure I took him out on the first pass. It was tragic. I saw gnome parts flying all over the place. I panicked, but there was nothing I could do. It was too late. He was in pieces, never to be whole again.
Even though I saw lots of gnome pieces flying, I could only find one when I went to retrieve the body. It's ironic that I found the eyes intact so they could stare at me accusingly. Rest in peace Mr. Garden Gnome. You brought me joy and I loved you. Sorry I ran you down with the lawn mower.