the garden gnbomes asked where we kjept the lawmnmower/. I looked at them all and was a little wondering. I=uh…I said, and slowly let the hopsze down, and suddnel;y my dfeet were wet. Oh, you got your feet wet! The gnomes a;; snapped their firnger and sudeen;y attatcjed ny showe.s I let outr a little yelp but there was no paot. One had taken my hose an dth eothern had pulled out a ghiant drying machine and just liejt that my showe s and feet were dry again,a nd the last gnokme gave a scented spray of my feet top give them a flowery scent. We’ll take care of all your lawn problems, but you have to let us live in your garage, the leader sai.d I looked at them for anotherw munbitter before I said, the garage is a little messy..they gnomes all, in unison , looked into the garage. No sweat, the gnome said, and lickety slit, with them all snapping their fingermm they sdet about, in a workforvce of fictty, to clean out the agaage. They dusted. They prganized the nila,s. they got rids of the sleds that ahd been brokenm. They fixed tommyt’s kbike, and then we saw, for the dofrts time, mt. snuffles tour tabby cat that had been missing for a week. Seems as if your cat was enjoying thwe freere rat suprlpes iun the bnack , by the gasoline. I was astonishes, and instantly told them tehey could work on the garden. They all cheered. The next week, smithers was loking at my lawn and whistling. Geezum poeetes, your lawn looks fantastic, he said, wiping the xsweat from his brow. The lawn morere he grinded on came to a chugging halt. When…I never heard your lawn omwer go…you havingprofessionals taking care of your lawm,m,
timothy c goodwin.nyc-based actor, photographer, writer, and cohost of The Tiffin Inn Writing Workshop.