Gnorman Gnome, a mountain-dwelling hermit, yawned and climbed from his hammock. His gnarly feet thumped as he walked, half asleep, across the floor of his cabin. In moments, a pleasant aroma filled the air of his home, as he prepared an omelet of quail eggs, roasted pine nuts, mushrooms, and cheese. A threesome of chipmunks scurried up to him and looked up imploringly. “Cute little varmints,” Gnorman said as he tossed them a few pine nuts.

After he ate, Gnorman slipped on his moosehide moccasins and grabbed his mandolin. He locked his front door and stepped out the back to sit down and take a rest on the porch. Randomly, he plucked his instrument’s strings and fell into a reverie. What a day for a daydream! Oh, this isn’t good; his imagination brought up images of giants doin’ cart wheels, of elephants playin’ in the band, of a flyin’ spoon. Doot, doot, doo! Had he used the wrong mushrooms in his omelet? The idea had credence.

This just won’t doot, doot, doo! He stepped off his porch and walked across the meadow towards the clearwater mountain stream that flowed past his rustic dwelling. It was a fine September morn, during the time when Summer gradually becomes Autumn. His cabin lay well hidden among the boulders and large trees in a small canyon on the sunlit southern slopes of Music Mountain in the San Isabel National Forest. The gnome sat on a stump in a sunny spot and again took up his mandolin. This time, he casually played a few tunes that were happy and relaxing. Ah, yes! Sunshine on his shoulders makes him happy!

As he played, magpies ceased their harsh cries. The squirrels likewise ended their chatter and sat quietly on the high branches of the nearby spruces. Butterflies fluttered around him. Hummingbird wings whirred as the birds frenetically sought nourishment at the wildflowers in the meadow. Forest animals (such as marmots, raccoons, and rabbits) gathered at the edge of the clearing. The stream murmured and songbirds warbled inharmony with his mandolin. Look at all the happy creatures dancin' on the lawn!

As the day wore on, clouds gathered in the Colorado sky. The wind picked up. Distant thunder rumbled. Clearly, a storm was approaching. Gnorman’s audience dispersed as they sought shelter. A few raindrops fell as the gnome, joined by a few marmots, headed for his cabin. A flash of lightning was followed instantly by a roar of thunder which seemed to be immediately overhead. Gnorman had just reached the refuge of his porch when the storm suddenly intensified.

Inside the cabin, everyone gathered by the fireplace, where Gnorman had laid a fire. One of the marmots took out his harmonica and played “Ghost Riders in the Sky” – a fitting song for a dark and windy day. The quiet hermit played the humble host and prepared s’mores and hot apple cider for his guests.

The gnome and his visitors sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed pleasant conversation. Gnorman brought out his guitar, and the marmots reached into their dirty red bandanas for their harmonicas. They filled the cabin with the sound of bluegrass music.

What’s this? A soaking wet raccoon suddenly appeared among them. It seemed she had come in through the bathroom window. A music lover? She introduced herself as Rocki.

Between the claps of thunder, there came a knock, knock, knocking on the cabin door. Who could possibly be out in this weather? Gnorman opened the door and saw his gneighbor. “Gnaomi! What brings you out in this storm?” “An owl, in its wisdom, brought me news of a gathering here on Music Mountain. I made the trek from my home on Horn Mountain so that I might join in. I brought my trumpet and some treats.” She dug into her backpack. “Here, have some cookies –madeleines with chopped almonds.”

After their snack, the group settled down for an afternoon of improvisational music. The raccoon discovered that her small paws were ideally suited for the maracas. The marmots shook tambourines and played their harmonicas. Gnaomi blew softly on her trumpet, while Gnorman played his fiddle.

The hungry musicians had soon consumed all of the s’mores, the apple cider, and the madeleine cookies. Rocki said, “Hey, gang! Let’s go get some food! If you don’t mind descending Music Pass Creek, we can visit an abandoned homestead. The humans who once lived there had one of the best gardens I’ve ever seen; many of their plants are still there, growing wild.”

“What might we find there?”

“Well, of course, the humans grew the “Three Sisters” –corn, squash, and beans. There are also alliums such as onions, garlic, and chives. For you marmots, there is a variety of wildflowers. The humans also grew herbs, including parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.”

“Ooh, that sounds great!”

“Hey, Gnorman and Gnaomi, bring your backpacks so that you can gather some good stuff for your larders. Oh, and we’ll find sunflowers there, too.”

And so the story ends, not with the hero riding off into the sunset, but with a small group of hungry animal companions descending the pass to raid an abandoned garden.