When I placed a cheerful little gnome on my lawn, I never imagined it would start a full-on war with my grumpy neighbor, Josh. But one glare, one threat, and boom—the line was drawn. Right there between my blooming rose bushes and his obsessively trimmed hedges.
That morning, everything felt calm. The sun was rising slow, casting soft golden light across the dewy grass. My bare feet sank into the cool earth, and I stood there just breathing it all in—the peaceful silence before the neighborhood woke up.
In my hands, I held the cutest little gnome I’d ever seen. His round cheeks were rosy, his arms stretched open like he wanted a hug, and his thick white beard curled under a droopy green hat. He looked like a tiny wizard straight out of a fairytale.
His ceramic smile was soft and mysterious, like he knew a secret he’d never tell.
“I think right here,” I whispered, crouching beside the rose bushes. Their petals still held the chill of the night.
I gently set the gnome into the grass, turning him a bit so he faced the street, like a tiny guard watching over my home.
Then I heard it.
SCREEECH—Josh’s rusty screen door screamed open, loud and angry like it hated being touched.
“Mary!” he called out, voice gravelly and already annoyed. “What in the blazes is that?!”
I sighed before turning around. Of course it was him. Josh. My neighbor from lawn hell.
He watched everything. Trimmed his bushes with military precision. Once, he even shouted at a squirrel for stepping on his tulips.
“It’s a gnome, Josh,” I said sweetly, putting on my brightest smile. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Josh marched closer, eyes squinted like I’d just insulted his ancestors.
“They’re bad luck,” he growled. “Gnomes. Rotten little omens. I’ve read about ’em. Seen what they do.”
“You read about gnomes?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What, was it an internet forum for bitter gardeners?”
He didn’t crack a smile. Didn’t even blink.
“I’m serious. If that thing stays, don’t blame me when disaster shows up on your doorstep.”
I gave the gnome a friendly pat on the head. “Well then, if disaster’s coming, she better bring coffee. Because I’m keeping him, Josh.”
Josh leaned in close, eyes dark. “Then I suppose you won’t mind the consequences.”
With that, he turned sharply and stormed back into his house. The wind rustled the roses. I looked at my gnome. His smile suddenly looked…bigger.
The next morning felt off.
Too quiet.
No birds chirping. No lawnmowers buzzing. Not even the usual barking from the Johnsons’ yappy dog. Just…stillness.
Then a strange smell floated into my kitchen—sharp, smoky, like burnt pine needles mixed with old socks. I wrinkled my nose and went outside.
Josh’s yard had transformed overnight into some kind of spooky campsite.
Dozens of small metal lanterns dangled from trees, porch hooks, and even his flagpole. Smoke curled from each one, floating straight toward my house.
But this smoke didn’t rise—it slithered sideways, right into my open windows, my laundry, my lungs.
“What in tarnation are you doing?!” I yelled across the hedge.
Josh stepped out calmly, arms wide like he was showing off a masterpiece.
“These,” he said proudly, “are sacred smudging lanterns. Used to cleanse evil spirits.”
“Evil spirits?” I coughed, waving my arms through the stinky air. “The only evil around here is that smell! Are you trying to smoke me out?”
He grinned, wicked and smug.
“Wind’s in your direction all day. Checked the weather. Science, Mary. Science.”
I stared at him, eyes watering. “Alright, Josh. You want a war? You’ve got one.”
I marched inside, grabbed my car keys, and headed straight to the garden center.
If he wanted to play dirty, I’d go full gnome army.
An hour later, I returned with ten—yes, TEN—new gnomes. Big ones, tiny ones, one fishing, and even one dressed like Elvis with a sparkly cape and shades.
I placed them in a circle around the original gnome like royal guards ready for battle.
Josh came outside with his coffee. He froze. His jaw dropped. The mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the porch.
The war had officially begun.
By noon, the sun blazed high above, and my lawn was a full-blown gnome village. Each gnome had its own vibe. Elvis even looked like he winked at the mailman.
That’s when the knock came.
Bang bang bang.
I opened the door to find a tall woman in a navy-blue pantsuit and dark sunglasses. She looked like she hadn’t smiled since the 90s. Clipboard in hand, lips tight.
“HOA inspection,” she announced like a robot. “We’ve received a complaint.”
I crossed my arms. “Let me guess… Josh?”
She said nothing. Just walked around my yard like she was judging a lawn competition. Her pen scratched paper with every step. When she reached the Elvis gnome, she actually sighed—like he personally offended her.
Then she pointed to my porch. “The wind chimes,” she said flatly. “They’re non-compliant.”
“What?” I blinked. “They make hardly any noise!”
She handed me a citation list. It was so long, it curled at the end like a party streamer.
“No garden figures in public view. Repaint trim. Power wash walkway. No hanging objects. No wind chimes.”
“No wind chimes?” I repeated. “Seriously?”
She gave me one final nod. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
Then click, click, click—her heels hammered away down the sidewalk.
I looked across the street. Josh stood there, arms folded, fresh mug in hand, smirking like he’d just won the lottery.
That night, I gathered my gnomes and moved them to the backyard. My heart felt heavy, like someone had stolen something small but special.
Had I lost?
The next morning, I dragged out my old ladder. The legs squeaked like they hadn’t moved in years. I grabbed a paint scraper and got to work on the porch trim.
That’s when I saw him.
Josh walked over, slow and careful, like he wasn’t sure if I’d throw the ladder at him.
He carried a paint bucket in one hand, and two clean brushes in the other.
“I think I took it too far,” he said softly, eyes on the ground.
I wiped sweat from my forehead. “Ya think?”
He nodded, sheepish. “I didn’t mean for her to come down on you like that. I’m sorry, Mary.”
His voice was different. Not smug. Not mean. Just…tired.
“What’s in the bucket?” I asked.
“White cedar mist. Matches your shutters.”
I looked at it, then at him. Finally, I nodded. “Alright. But you’re going up the ladder.”
He smiled a little. “Fair enough.”
We painted together. Side by side. The sun climbed and dipped, and the silence between us slowly filled with laughter.
Josh accidentally stepped in the paint and muttered a few choice words. I laughed until I nearly dropped the brush.
Later, while rinsing the brushes, he looked down and said, “Lost my wife two years ago. House has been quiet ever since. Too quiet.”
I nodded. “The gnomes made this place feel less empty. Gave it some heart.”
As the sun set, the house looked brighter. Like it had forgiven both of us.
“You still mad about the gnomes?” I asked.
Josh shook his head. “Nah. Maybe they’re not unlucky. Maybe they’re just misunderstood.”
“Like you?” I teased.
He smiled. “Maybe.”
That evening, I stood on the front lawn again, gnome in hand.
“Can I put him back?” I asked.
Josh leaned on the fence. “Let’s start with one. See how the spirits feel.”
I laughed. “Hard choice. They all have personalities.”
He walked over, picked up the original gnome and handed it to me. “Let’s go with this guy. He’s been through the most.”
Together, we placed him back beside the rose bush.
Josh glanced at me. “Dinner?”
I blinked. “Dinner?”
“Maybe I can help you pick the least haunted of the rest,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
I smiled, cheeks warm. “Sure. Bring your smudge sticks. Just in case.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
The wind shifted as we stood there. The smoke was gone. The gnome’s smile looked peaceful now, like he’d finally found his place.
Maybe luck just needs time.
And maybe peace, like paint, takes a few coats before it sticks.