The Hedge Gnome

            It is difficult for hedge gnomes when there are no hedge rows.  With hedge rows they have room for expansion and form networks of gnome families.  With the growth of cities and sprawling suburbs the hedge rows have disappeared and many of the gnome families have moved out into the wilds. What with bobcats and birds of prey that presents serious dangers.

            When we moved into our current home the property had been abandoned for a space of time and the surrounding hedges and bushes, all very close to the house, had been left untended.  By the look of things the previous owner, a single man who loved parties, was not much of a gardener. The hedges and bushes provided an ideal home for a small family of gnomes. We did the logical, and from one point of view, the responsible thing; we began to trim the hedges.

            Even under such dire circumstances hedge gnomes are rarely seen.  They simply moved from the front of the house to the east side, the sunrise side; the west side bearing the full heat of the afternoon sun.

            I come from a long line of Scottish husbandmen and gardeners, the Smiths of Aberdeen, but my energy last fall didn’t extend to the east side.  Truth be told, my study, with three large windows was on the east side of the house and a lovely deep row of hedge bushes obscured the view of the neighbouring house.  One of my early morning pleasures is the light of the newly risen sun dancing on the leaves of the hedges and bushes sheltering my window.  I have long revelled in the marvels of God’s colours, the various shades of green, the shadows, the patches of golden light all gently moving just outside the window.  My custom is to take my morning coffee to the study, take my Book of Common Prayer and the Holy Scriptures and commune with my Lord in this quiet joyful space, a soaking machine, C. S. Lewis would call it, a place for the refreshment of the inner man.

            Often in the morning a mourning dove lands briefly on one of the bushes, sees me at my prayers, nods respectfully, and with a flurry launches back into the air.  This morning was a little different.  The friendly dove bounced heavily on the branch outside my window, nodded to me, I swear he smiled, and sprang away so vigorously that he set the branches of the hedge bouncing.  A small bearded face with bristly hair bounced into view as the branch bobbed up and down.  Our eyes met, thus setting up an interesting problem; both for the gnome and for myself.  I put down my Book of Common Prayer and smiled. 

The gnome looked extremely anxious.  I spread my hands in a gesture of peace and welcome.  As the branch slowly stopped bouncing the gnome pulled himself up onto the branch above and sat in full view.  Never mind what fatuous images of gnomes have been thrust upon you by the merchants in search of profits.  He wore a simple homespun shirt, brown trousers, a tweedy jacket, and a very scruffy pair of wellingtons.  He looked at me quizzically.  I slowly rose and walked to the window.  He winced as I raised it, but stayed boldly sitting upon his branch.

            “Welcome,” I said.

            He remarked, “You live in this house,” not a question, merely an observation.

            “Yes,” I said, “and you?”

            “I live here in my hedge.”

            I noted that he said, “my hedge.”

            “Very good,” said I, “I will respect your hedge and not trim it.  In fact I rather enjoy the sunlight playing on the leaves.”

            “Thank you,” he said, “It is rather beautiful.”

            Thus began a long a cautious relationship.  Hedge gnomes and vicars are not the usual colleagues.