One morning, I found twenty-two garden gnomes standing on the drive.
My father was walking around them, looking thoughtful.
The gnomes were made of resin and they hadn’t been painted. They were all an off-white colour and they looked eerie, like an army of albino midgets.
– What are these for?
– What are gnomes usually for? my father countered.
I thought for a moment, and then shrugged.
– I have no idea. Read more…
My Father’s Garden: Gnomes
Copyright © R J Dent (2014)
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