The Gnome Restoration Society refurbishes bedraggled garden ornaments — and our faith in humanity

Over the years, I’ve had items stolen from my yard and shed.

Lawn mower. Power-washer. Two wrought iron planters. Spare propane tank. Solar lights. A burglar with a green thumb once yanked a tiny evergreen out of the dirt. If there was ever a partridge in my pear tree, it would now be a victim of bird trafficking.

Theft is a personal violation — unless the perps are a secret society of good Samaritans.

I direct your attention to an oddly heartwarming CBC story this week: “He thought his garden gnomes were stolen. They were returned in better shape than ever.”

The “he” is Kelly Blair, who lives in Kelowna. According to the story, his motley gnome posse was abducted about a month ago. Then last week, there was a knock on the door. A “lovely older lady” handed Mr. Blair an envelope.

Inside, there was a paper cut-out of a gnome and the name of a mysterious group that is presumably skulking B.C. yards: the Gnome Restoration Society.

Lovely Older Lady asked Blair to follow her to a car. She popped the trunk. And there, in refurbished glory, his gnomes grinned. They left his property hideous and weather-beaten. They returned in brand new hues of red, blue, yellow and white. This was “Extreme Makeover: Gnomes Edition.”

As Blair recalled to the public broadcaster: “All of a sudden there’s this huge splash of colour and there’s all my gnomes back. In fact, there were two more than were taken.”

Recap: members of the Gnome Restoration Society spotted a collection of yard midgets in dire need of TLC. So they snatched them and moved them to an unknown location. The gnomes were repainted. Then they were returned, along with two additions. Who does this?

I considered launching an investigation. But then I remembered I am not Robert Cribb. All I know is what Blair told the CBC. This mysterious group of lawn ornament hobbyists are “mostly retired people” who wish to “remain anonymous.”

The most underrated demo in society is retirees with fire in their bellies.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if there were more secret societies devoted to random acts of kindness? You go outside and your dirty Subaru is suddenly waxed and gleaming. There is a cryptic note tucked under the wiper: “Courtesy, The Car Wash Society.”

You’re walking down the street and feeling frumpy when a van pulls over. Pensioners jump out and throw you in the back. You are given a haircut, mani-pedi and fashionable trousers. Your shoes are shined. You are handed discount codes for the Bay. The sun is shining and you are on Cloud 9.

If someone from the Gnome Restoration Society is reading this, could you please email me? I will never reveal your identity. I just have so many questions. First, why gnomes? Why not gnarly patio furniture or ratty mailboxes? How was the group recruited? Classified ads? Subreddits devoted to gnome fetishes? Does financing for the covert painting and porcelain filler come from your RRSPs?

Also, just FYI, you missed one of Blair’s gnomes.

In a story on Global News, the overlooked gnome looks like a filthy hobo compared to his sparkling pals. Someone needs to get on Signal and send an encrypted message to Lovely Older Lady. Tell her to put on that bandit mask and hatch a second extraction mission.

As an aside, you know what would be cool? An AI gnome. Yard work can be lonely and, for me, bewildering. It would be great to have a little fellow in a red hat guide me through planting and pruning: “Idiot, if you cut that branch, the tree will die. Drop the lopper.”

A story in the Washington Post last year offered a brief history of garden gnomes. Early ones were inspired by “mythologies from around the world — including the Egyptian god Bes, and brownies, house spirits in British and Scottish folklore …”

Modern gnomes, like the one standing guard near your neighbour’s boxwood, “can be traced to dwarf statues that originated in Germany’s Black Forest region …”

I’m hoping the Gnome Restoration Society spreads to Ontario. And that it expands its Freemasonry skulduggery with actual masonry. My porch needs a refresh. My bricks require tuck-point. Weeding? You do-good retirees have time on your hands and I’d very much appreciate if one of you could fix the ignition button on my Weber.

Mischievous altruism is Canada at its finest. Yes, it would be great if we could also meet our budget targets with NATO before Justin Trudeau starts shipping crates of fancy socks to Brussels to atone for our lagging contributions. But in the interim, it’s nice to know we live in a country where anonymous citizens do nice things for strangers.

Long live the refurbished gnomes.