There's a little gnown fact about the Gnorth End's beautiful yards and gardens that, lately, has me curious. In fact, so much secrecy and ambiguity surround the subject that I have had to go under-cover to acquire any information to share with the public. As for empirical data with which to support the investigative conclusion that I will set forth, I have gnone. I will leave it up to you, as individuals, to decide whether the following has the ring of truth or a traveler's tale.
I frequently chauffer an elderly woman around the streets and back alleys of the deep Gnorth End. It's cheap and satisfying entertainment, alleys being our favorite; where rickety fences and openings reveal gardens, magical and beckoning. She often comments on the statuary peeking out from under the Hostas and the oasis's of verdant green, smiling through the winking daisies, dahlias and daffodils.
She is certain that these roughcast little folk are the reason for the splendor we witness on our drives through these well-established gneighborhoods. According to her, the whole kitten-ka-boodle is the doing of the Garden Gnomes. When I commented to her that I had gnown they were magic but gnot that magic, she informed me that it had gnothing to do with magic, unless I considered a bodily function as basic as bowel evacuation magic. She further explained that Gnomes are very industrious creatures and even though they are gnown for their gnight-time work endeavors, they are gnot, as commonly believed, sitting idle all day. Yes, you can tell where this is going. All day long they patiently produce the miracle manure that they spread as fertilizer around your gardens (if you are lucky) at gnight.
Gnow, granted, this is a cute little story for your children, but who really believes this? And if you did, would you tell anyone? "How did these tales get started anyway?" I wondered, and being one that has always believed that even myths have some truth, I decided to find out.
Armed with a digital recorder, pad, pencil, and an inordinate curiosity, I launched myself at the Gnorth End to discover the truth. I figured that if anyone gnew, it would be them. However, this is where the mystery began. No one would talk. Most would furtively glance around and claim ignorance, all the while giving me the distinct impression that they gnew more than they were telling. I guessed they were either;
a) afraid other's would think they were crazy; or,
b) afraid if word got out, their gnomes would become targets for gnapping.
It was clear they were unwilling to talk with an outsider. Whatever the case, my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to spy. Yes, spy. I know that's a dangerous thing to do these days, what with the Patriot Act and all, but I could see no other way.
I pretended to be a meter reader, a mailman, and a city tree inspector, but all to no avail. I finally had to really sneak down alleys, across side lawns to listen under open parlor windows, and hover close to the pay table at neighborhood yard sales, always in the hope of catching a revealing exchange between neighbors.
Finally, I did get lucky. It was dusk on Resseguie, somewhere between 5th and 8th.streets. I was in the alley, hunkered down alongside an old wooden garage, listening to two elderly women who had apparently been gneighbors forever. I only caught the end of a whispered conversation.
"...that gnosy reporter. What will we do if they find out about "Gnomaroma"?"
The reply came with a dismissive wave of a hand. "Why, Iris, don't worry. Gnobody's ever going to believe her even if she does come out with it."
As I heard her words, I realized she was probably right,
but as an investigative reporter, it was my duty to try.
So here goes:
According to local history, the beautiful Gnorth End gardens are fertilized regularly with a little gnown product of extreme efficacy, produced and distributed solely in the Gnorth End by gnative Garden Gnomes. This product, gnown as "Gnomaroma," for it's organic origins and earthy aroma, is gnot available for sale.
That's my story and I'm standing by it. P3; w14