Endless thanks and praises to Angela at Sacramento Gardening for–er–digging this one up.
So just imagine. You creep downstairs on Christmas morning. The coffee is brewing, Perry Como is crooning on the stereo. The presents are piled high, and your family is all around you, everyone in their pajamas, all of you remarkably good-humored considering the early hour, not to mention all the egg nog you consumed the night before.
You reach for a good-sized package with nice heft and rip off the paper. Inside you find your very own George Bush Garden Gnome.
How thoughtful of your family! How understanding they are! How considerate of your needs!
But what to do with your gnome? What, dear readers, would you do with a George Bush Garden Gnome if you had one?
Put him in the chicken coop and let four girls named after previous inhabitants of his house (Eleanor, Abigail, Dolley and Bess) pick at him.
Take him to the compost pile and bury him up to his neck in worms and muck, on the theory that he got us into a can o worms, so he should know what it’s like to be in one himself.
Set him out in the quagmire that is my blackberry thicket, and wait for him to announce a plan for getting out.