When I placed a cheerful little gnome on my front lawn, I thought it would just be a cute decoration. I had no idea it would spark a full-blown war—with Josh, my grumpy, superstition-obsessed neighbor.
All it took was one glare… one warning from him… and suddenly, it was gnome vs. grump. The battlefield? Right between my rose bushes and his perfect, military-style hedges.
That morning, the sun had just started warming up the day. Everything was quiet, soft, and golden. I stood on the damp grass with bare feet, holding the little gnome in my hands like a treasure.
He was adorable—round cheeks, a thick beard, and a green hat that drooped just slightly to one side. His ceramic smile made it seem like he knew some funny secret.
“I think right here,” I whispered, kneeling beside my roses. Their petals were still curled from the early chill.
I placed the gnome down carefully, turning him a bit so he faced the street—like a tiny guard watching over the house.
Then… screeeeech.
The rusty screen door next door slammed open. My heart sank.
“Mary,” came a voice as dry and scratchy as gravel. “What in the blazes is that?”
Of course. Josh.
He was always watching. Always judging. He trimmed his hedges like he was in charge of a royal palace. Once, he even yelled at a squirrel for digging in his flowerbed.
“It’s a gnome, Josh,” I said brightly. “Isn’t he cute?”
Josh stepped onto his porch, squinting at it like it had insulted his mother.
“They’re bad luck,” he growled. “Nasty little omens. I’ve read about ’em. Seen what they do.”
“You read about gnomes?” I raised an eyebrow. “What was it, Josh? ‘Angry Gardeners Monthly’?”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile. Just crossed his arms, tight and cold.
“I’m warning you. If that thing stays there, don’t come crying to me when misfortune hits.”
I leaned down and gave the gnome a pat on the head.
“If misfortune’s coming, she better bring donuts. I’m keeping him, Josh.”
Josh gave a long, slow nod. His voice dropped.
“Then I suppose you won’t mind the consequences.”
And with that, he turned and marched back inside like a villain at the end of Act One.
The wind picked up, ruffling the rose bushes. I looked at the gnome again. Somehow, he seemed to be smiling even wider.
The next morning, the silence felt wrong. No birds chirping. No dogs barking. Just stillness. And then—that smell.
It was awful. Smoky, sour, with a weird sharp bite to it. Like burning herbs and expired pine needles.
I stepped outside and nearly gagged. “What in the world—?”
Then I saw it.
Josh’s yard looked like it was hosting some strange forest ritual. Metal lanterns dangled from trees, porch hooks, even his flagpole. They puffed out thick gray smoke that drifted sideways—straight toward my windows, my fresh laundry, and my lungs.
I stormed toward the hedge.
“Josh! What in tarnation are you doing?!”
Josh strolled out onto his back porch, arms wide like he was on a stage.
“These,” he said, with pride, “are sacred smudging lanterns. Used to drive out evil spirits.”
“Evil spirits?!” I coughed, waving the smoke from my face. “The only evil I smell is this! Are you trying to gas me out?!”
Josh grinned like the devil himself.
“Wind’s in your direction all day. I checked the weather. Science is beautiful.”
That was it. I was done.
“Game on, Josh,” I snapped. “Game very much on.”
I jumped in my car and drove straight to the garden store. If Josh wanted to play dirty, I’d give him a gnome army.
An hour later, I returned with ten more gnomes. Tall ones, tiny ones, sleepy ones, and one that looked suspiciously like Elvis with shades and a cape. I placed them in formation around the original like a royal guard.
Josh came out with his coffee, saw the scene—and froze. His mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the porch.
The battle had officially begun.
By noon, the sun was blazing. My gnomes stood proud in the front yard, smiling at the world. It was silly… but I felt victorious.
Then came the knock.
Sharp. Rude. Like someone was trying to knock down the door.
I opened it, and there she was—tall, stiff, dressed in a navy pantsuit that probably cost more than my couch. Sunglasses. Clipboard. No smile.
“HOA inspection,” she said, completely joyless. “We’ve received a complaint.”
I crossed my arms. “Let me guess,” I said. “Josh?”
She didn’t answer. Just walked around my yard, scribbling like a robot. Her lips pressed tight the whole time.
When she reached the gnome circle, she actually sighed.
She squinted at Elvis. Shook her head.
She pointed at my wind chimes. “Non-compliant,” she barked. “Noise pollution.”
By the time she finished, she handed me a citation list so long it curled.
“No garden figurines in front view.”
“Repaint trim to approved color.”
“Power wash walkway.”
“No wind chimes.”
“No wind chimes?” I asked, stunned.
She replied, “We appreciate your cooperation.” Then she walked away like a robot disappearing into the night.
And there stood Josh, coffee in hand, smirking like a cat who ate every canary on Earth.
That night, I moved all the gnomes to the backyard. It felt like defeat.
I sat on the porch steps. My wind chimes were silent. The house looked a little sad. And honestly… so did I.
The next morning, I pulled out the old ladder and paint scraper. I was going to repaint the trim. If I had to follow the rules, fine—I’d follow them better than anyone ever had.
That’s when I saw him.
Josh was walking over, slow and unsure. He had a small paint bucket in one hand, two brushes in the other.
“I think I took it too far,” he said, not looking at me.
I didn’t say anything right away. Just wiped sweat off my forehead.
“Ya think?” I finally said, sharper than I meant.
Josh sighed. “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean for her to come at you like that.”
He held out the bucket.
“White cedar mist,” he said softly. “Matches your shutters.”
I stared at it. Then at him.
“Alright,” I said. “But you’re climbing the ladder.”
He chuckled a little. “Fair enough.”
We painted together, side by side. The sun moved slowly across the sky. We spilled paint, joked, and slowly started to forget the fight.
Later, while rinsing the brushes, Josh said, “I lost my wife two years ago. This house has been too quiet ever since. Sometimes… it’s hard to breathe.”
I nodded. “I get that. This house felt too empty after my kids moved out. The gnomes made it feel… mine. Like I wasn’t alone.”
Josh gave a small smile.
“Maybe they’re not unlucky,” he said. “Maybe they’re just misunderstood.”
“Like you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He looked at me. “Maybe.”
That evening, I stood on my lawn again, holding the original gnome.
“Can I put him back?” I asked, glancing at Josh leaning on the fence.
“Let’s start with one,” he replied. “Test the spiritual waters.”
We both laughed.
He picked up the original. “This one’s been through a lot,” he said. “Looks like he’s ready.”
Together, we placed the gnome just beside the rose bush.
Then Josh looked at me and asked, “Dinner?”
I blinked. “Dinner?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I can help you choose the least haunted one for round two.”
I smiled, heart fluttering.
“Sure,” I said. “But you’re bringing the smudge sticks—just in case.”
He laughed. “Deal.”
The wind shifted. No more smoke. Just peace. And the gnome’s smile? It looked a little softer now.
Maybe luck, like people, just needs time.
And maybe peace, like paint, takes a few coats to stick.
