The Gaelic Garden Gnomes and I had an opportunity for a little rest and relaxation before beginning our concentrated summer history and folklore studies.
One of my friends, also an author and editor, offered to drive my daughter and me to Houston. My youngest daughter lives there and our plan was to celebrate our birthdays.
Spur-of-the-moment fun and the possibility of visiting Galveston was too good an offer to pass up. Besides, the gnomes really wanted to go to the beach. Seamus said that even using magic, we couldn’t do much better than fifty miles to the gallon in the Prius.
We packed our bags and hit the road.
The gnomes were a bit overcome by Dallas and Houston traffic in one day.
They asked if we might stop for some refreshment of tea and crumpets, but my daughter had a better idea.
After polishing off a bag of kolaches, the gnomes weren’t sure they could move. They thought we’d had enough excitement for one day.
Seamus loved the kolaches. He is thinking of opening his own kolache factory in the Old Country.
Finn said, “I think kolaches would pair well with my barley malt.”
Seamus said,”Kolaches would pair well with anything.”
Finn said, “My barley malt would pair well with anything.”
I distracted them with the cry of, “Look! Palm trees!”
They insisted upon immediately posing for a postcard shot to send back to the Old Country.
It was a beautiful, balmy day, and all was well.
We strolled the beach and enjoyed the sounds of the waves crashing and the gulls playing chase on the breezes.
That is until Finn decided that he must swim. I cautioned him that the surf seemed to be a bit strong.
“Fiddlesticks,” Finn said.
Seamus suggested a nice lounge on a tuft of seaweed. He and Snickers were perfectly happy.
Finn was bored.
Miss Aubrey told Finn that swimming was not only a bad idea, it was prohibited in this area.
Finn pointed toward the horizon and said, “Shark!”
While we were distracted, he dove in the water and swam away chuckling.
“Faith and begorrah!” Seamus dove in after Finn, but the currents were powerful and unrelenting.
The tide swept in quickly.
Tragedy seemed eminent.
We charged into the waves to retrieve them, but too late.
The gnomes had gone under.
Suddenly, lightning flashed and the ocean boiled.
For a split second, an apparition like a mermaid rose from the deep.
The twinkling lights floated and led us under the pier, then disappeared.
I spied a tiny red hat.
“Seamus! Finn! You’re alive,” I said.
Seamus and Snickers were still choking out water.
“Glub, glub,” they said.
“Pub. Pub.” Finn said.
There were no more shenanigans for the gnomes that morning. But the afternoon…my goodness. You would think that was enough excitement. Finn, however, was just warming up.
Miss Cynthia ;^-