It took me about five decades to accept that a gnome can, indeed, be a tasteful and even philosophically interesting addition to the garden, although that does depend on your definition of "tasteful" and "interesting".
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Our garden gnome was bequeathed to us by a philosophical friend who called him Gnome Chomsky. Gnome Chomsky sits in our garden where he must witness wombat and other animal communication, some of it sophisticated and fulfilling all reasonable criteria for "language" even if, in the case of wombats, its communicated often by smell, not sounds. Even chooks have over 60 different calls, about the same as some teenagers ...
A gnome, or gnome collection, will soon suit its surroundings. Gnome Chomsky is lichened with touches of moss, much like the rocks on which he sits, next to the small frog pool. Well, we built it for the frogs, but the wombats are sure that it's theirs.
A gnome collection in a garden with neat rows of well-staked dahlias or tidy zinnias will probably be immaculate, well scrubbed, their collars as vivid as the flowers. My favourite gnome collaboration belongs to a man who idly mentioned he liked garden gnomes, thus committing himself to decades of gifted gnomes. When any bloke mentions he likes something – gnomes, golf clubs, miniature racing cars – everyone sighs with relief and thinks that's what we'll give him for every present-giving occasion for the next 20 years. These gnomes sit under the fruit trees, conversing, which seems suitable both for the garden and its owner.
So what do you need for a good home for gnomes? First of all, place him or them in a not-too-conspicuous spot, certainly not visible from the front gate – a gnome is all too portable and those who lift them may use the excuse that they are simply helping your gnome to turn feral, even if he is a domesticated gnome in the middle of deep conversations with your cat. Keep gnomes in the backyard. And, yes, I suppose you might tether your gnomes, or chain them to the fence, but that might just infuriate the gnome thieves who might wreak havoc with your grevilleas.
Grevilleas, by the way, or thorny shrubs, are an excellent habitat for gnomes, as for small birds, and their general prickliness helps protect them.
Gnomes are traditionally placed with water features. I need to emphasis that Gnome Chomsky does not hold a fishing line. He just happens to sit near one. I do think that gnomes go well with apple trees, a bit like they are waiting for the fruit to ripen, though do not expect your gnome to act as a scarecrow and keep the birds from your cumquats. On the other hand, scarecrows don't do much to scare the birds from your fruit crop either. They just make a handy perching place while they gulp down whatever they've managed to carry off.
The most important thing with gnomes – as with your entire garden – is to be open with yourself as well as the neighbours about what you want. A wilderness of grapes and olive trees? Go to it. Marching gnomes? Do not be ashamed.
And if you happen to be bequeathed a gnome, and so far have maintained a determinedly gnome-free territory, remember that gnomes mellow too. A good garden always has a spot for the odd gnome. But, in our case, definitely not two.
This week I am:
* making lists of the plants I was sure I wasn't going to plant this winter, but probably will: a Bloomfield Abundance rose, a mandarin tree and a heck of a lot of onions. Home-grown onions are decidedly underrated, sweet, delicious and with a true onion favour you rarely find in bought ones. Caramelised just-harvested onions are a treat.
* harvesting dry chillies, with gloves on, then threading them with a needle and thread, also with gloves on, to hang up to dry. Do not touch eyes, lips or any other sensitive spots with the gloves you, ahem, used for chilli-picking – they were developed as an instrument of torture for good reason.
* watching the lyrebirds turn over our mulch, helping to break it down into soil.
* discovering that the birds have eaten all the persimmons, and pomegranates, most of the late apples and have started on the medlars. I've never known a year for so much fruit-munching by the birds … But then it's been a poor year for native fruits, like wild figs, and they need to eat something.
* picking limes, lemons and oranges, which the birds have not eaten and avoid, though we had a poor fruit set for those too, due to cool moist spring days.
* and the camellias are blooming!!!! Not just the early sasanquas but the medium japonicas that flower for month after month all through the cold and into spring. Just one bush today but tomorrow there may be two and by the end of next week maybe 20. I do love winter. The flowering bits, at any rate.
