THE GARDEN IS FOR EVERY GNOME
Hello. My name is Petal.
I am not a leprechaun,
I don’t make shoes.
I am not a robin,
I don’t like to eat worms.
I am a gnome, a dirt gnome.
I have a grassy green hat,
a big purple nose, tree branch arms
and soft petal feet.
I am small but not too small,
bigger than a mushroom and smaller than a robin,
the perfect size for a mochi.
Until the first day of spring,
I sleep in a wild mountain meadow
under the yellow aspens,
hidden between mossy rocks,
careful to avoid the sleepy but soon to be busy bees.
In my meadow,
gnome magic is powered by thank you notes,
but the tree of kindness is empty.
When the first bud pops
and the leaves unroll,
I jump out of hibernation
and into your garden.
In a secret network of underground tunnels,
I visit kids who love to get dirty
and share a love of all things green,
for my annual garden hop.
Without your wishes,
spring will be dark and muddy.
When you are waiting for your garden to bloom,
if you look closely,
you might see a few gnome footprints in the mud.
I’m not here to weed your garden
or water the plants.
I’m here to teach you how to be nice to nature
because it’s the only one we have.
A thank you note tells someone why they matter to you.
A thank you note is for something unexpected.
Give thanks for something that no one can see.
Give thanks for something that everyone needs.
Thank you for making the backyard smell like roses.
Thank you for the bird who just flew past my nose.
Thank you for the land where we go to school.
Thank you for the sunset and the moonrise.
Scribbled on a piece of paper,
folded in half and tied in a knot,
hanging from a budding branch,
each thank you note captures the power of kid sized kindness, the best kind.
If you don’t write your thank you notes,
I will play a trick on you.
Who put green peas in your shoe?
That was me.
Who punched holes in the umbrella?
I did.
Before you turn this page,
put your finger on my nose,
close your eyes
and say thank you to nature.
That’s the power of kindness
and garden thank yous,
delivered to your home
by a big hearted gnome with a small round hat.
Between the last few drops of rain,
I slide up and down the rainbow
and return to my wild mountain meadow
to fill up the tree of kindness.
With my gnome magic and your thank you notes,
the garden grows green and tall
and the flowers stretch and bloom.
That is nature’s way of saying: You’re welcome!
Bailey: See you next spring, Petal!
Clover: Good day, good gnome!