Welcome to Gnomeville as Special Guests take over for Living in America Six

We are going to another land, to a magical place all the way across this amazing adventurous continent which is North America that spirit that brought us here all the way across great track of discoveries makes anytning possible. Take a look, we ar eging to Gnomeville/

This is a place which actually exists, in the hearts and minds and garden of my uncle and aunt Larry and Jeanette.

I will hand you over to them as they take us on a guided tour of their daily existence…

This village of Gnomeville is approximately 2000 miles SE of the village of Nome, Alaska – and three miles NW of the Sons of Norway, Poulsa WA.

This is a very inclusive community including immortals such as dwarves, elves, fairies, gnomes and trolls, plus some noted religious souls and a few fairy tale figures.

The population of Gnomeville as of August 2020 is 79, but not all are photographed for this blog. [“So I am hoping for a second edition blog in the future! Ed]  

Taken from the village plaza towards the bridge over the Geiranger Fjord. The Gnu Way is on the left and separated from Dwarfland Blvd by the two steel wheels.

The greeters on the bridge are Little Miss Muffet and Little Boy Blue. (This photo was taken in about 2018, and a few persons have moved in since that time.)

On the left side of the plaza lives Ron the Rainman who shelters under the hydrangea shrubbery.

On the righthand side lives Charlie the Carpenter, a son of Thor.

Above the plaza sleeps Sam the Sentinel who is known to fall asleep as the city is peaceful and quiet, at least before dusk. It is after dusk that these little people are most active, especially under a full moon. If visiting humans are attentive and kind-hearted at these times they may see or hear them going about their activities and you the human will feel greatly enriched.

Newly arrived last year is Lao Tzu. When he arrived he said, “Those who know don’t talk; those who talk don’t know. Do what you enjoy”.  He enjoys fishing without a hook.

Back behind the bushes, to the left of the windmill, along The Gnu Way is the Bogota of Buddha. He holds up a dark ball and ball of light. He told us, “When people see some things as beautiful other things become ugly When people see some things as good other things become bad. Long and short define each other. High and low depend on each other. Before and after follow each other.” We try not to disturb them, but things are noisier just down the way from there.

Old McDonald’s farm has a Moo Moo here and a Baa Baa there, but the buddha and Lao Tzu remain undisturbed.

Next to the barn in the shadow of St Francis are two happy young boys playing, while a younger brother sits with a bird.

Moving over to Dwarfland Blvd to the far right we find the first two of the Seven Dwarves; Bashful and Dopey. They are a little leery of the butterfly on their large butterfly house – Big enough to carry them away. Happy is hiding in the upper left, waiting to jump out and say ‘Boo’.

The next mushroom house is the home of Doc, Sleepy and Sneezy. Grumpy is off by himself hiding in the Rhody leaves. In the foreground is Milo Miner, a dwarf who lives in a small mine below.

Fred and Ferd Fungi are playing in their mushroom house. They have a rain gauge because fungi need water to grow. Crawling out of a hole in a tree trunk behind them is Morton Miner; dwarves prefer dark places and like going down mines.

As we go down the path through the two steel wheels we are greeted by Brer Rabbit and Uncle Remus on a cedar log.

They are greeters to the next section of Gnomeville; the Gnostic circle with the Brixius pump in the community center from which flows Stoney Creek.

The folks here are knowledge seekers. Gnosis mean knowledge in Greek.

On the far left of the circle we encounter George and Greg Gardener. Gardeners study the nature of plants so as to care for them well. In the process of this study they learn the laws and wisdoms of nature. The large sparrow between them sings to them as they work.

Next we see Pops and Sunny Woods coming out of the green woodland. Forest dwellers are also known for their learning. They see Gems and Pic Ax Miner who are uncles to Milo and Morton who live in Dwarfland. Gems and Pic are well known geologists and are well grounded in the deeper meaning of life.

By Stump Castle [17] we find Gnomio and Juliet miner, the parents of Milo and Morton. Gnomio and Juliet are the founders of Gnomeville in 2012. (A movie was made of them. It is rumoured that Shakespeare knew then and that they were the inspiration for a play he wrote, but that was many years ago.)

Herman the Hermit lives in this hollow hole; an empty space within a tree trunk. He finds a wholeness in that space.   

 Gazing at Stoney Creek is Shiva (transformer in the Hindu Trimurti) notices that the creek is constantly changing as it flows. You can never step twice into the same creek. In his hammock above him, Sleepy Joe is letting his brain get recharged. He has heard of that knowledge thing and will ask where you get it if he can work out how to say it.

From his governing bench the pointy-eared Foresti the mayor keeps constant vigilance to maintain harmony and benevolence between all.

Around the corner we come to Gnarled Road where the ancient ones live, ever eager to enjoy another day. Here we are greeted by Eldar the Elf.

Just beyond is Francis of Assisi who found that simplicity keeps us in touch with all creatures as brother and sister.

On the other side of the road we find the Christmas Elves; Chris. Kirsten and Christen. They are carrying gifts: treats, trees, games and foods for you. “It is in giving that we receive,” Francis reminds us.

At the end of Gnarled Road we find the gnawed retirement home where we find Grandpa Happy, Grandpa Dopey, Grandpa Doc and Grandpa Bashful, (Notice they do not use WiFi but get Snail Mail).

Returning around to the front we are welcomed to the Genome Guesthouse by Sigmund Fjord who will ask you about your dreams.

Also out front is the creative groundskeeper Handy Hank with a happy stone daisy growing up from these hardy roots.

Inside we find the happy couple Olaf and Olga [27], with Uncle Uffdah holding Orley. None of them could be prouder.

Leaning against the steel posts without a care in the world is Uncle Kevin enjoying a visiting butterfly, whose movements fascinate little children.

In the next room we find two couples – you will note there are not many married folk in Gnomeville. The first couple are Throg and Huldra these trolls are always eager to dance to the music, while always making sure their tails don’t get in the way.

There nestled among the roots of pine trees are our next couple, Hans and Greta. They wander often together, sometimes getting lost because they are always eyeing each other.

Also accommodated along this way is Two Elves one of those fans who helped the Seahawks win the Superbowl.

 In the last residence away from everyone else is an old Viking, better known as Modi, named after the son of Thor and whose name means anger.

Out in the shop we find Guisepi and ET planning their next project.

On the other side of the house we have Nisse and Vladimir . In their bright red hats, they attack people driving by and invite them to stop in for a visit to Gnomeville.

 In the winter Little Miss Muffet and Little Boy Blue go south and Frosty and Rudolph are on the bridge to welcome visitors,

unless the North Winds bring a white coat to decorate Gnomeville.

Hi Adrian, I think the folks of Gnomeville originally came from Gudvangen, Norway. You may recognise some of them. May they be a delight to you and Heidi. Some day you may be able to come and visit Gnomeville. Be well – Larry.


Oh thank you ever so you two, this is great fun, quite magical. We all thank you for the visit.

Here are links to the whole series of Living in America pic plus links to my shop

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Living in America I

Living in America II

Living in America III

Living in America for

Living in America five

Living in America six

The Story of Thanksgiving that you thought you knew

Thanksgiving, made possible by only one word…

By only one man.

Those pilgrims they landed they tried and they struggled. Nothing worked. They really suffered. Nothing grew, all the seasons were wrong. They came down with all of the things that were just like at home but different, different enough to do them real harm. They even tried hunting, but even that was other than they had known. This was a new country where God had made things other than they had believed would be possible. As many laid sick and indeed dying, they gave it one more try. A small band went out looking for game and they met with something totally unexpected. This is the word. This is the message. America (Americas) listen. This is the word. “Welcome.” This is what they heard.

How could that small band of travelling originals know one word of English, “Welcome” but they did so. They cautiously walked towards the struggling settlers and spoke the one word of English they knew “Welcome” all this way from the homeland.

This was the moment which gave the Americas English. This is the reason that as new settlers arrived they heard English. All along the coasts were settlements where it was the language and new arrivals from Germany, Poland, Spain, The Ukraine, from the known world heard and adapted.

This was the word of Squanto.

For that welcoming band (that small ‘nation’) led the poor settlers to another tribe but their own. They took them to a ‘nation’ where Squanto lived.

It was Squanto who took them in, who travelled with them, who settled with them for a while. He taught them how life was different here. They gathered seeds because of him. They learned the lore. The lore of this land the Americas. And they thrived.

In years to come, they would be all along the coast, coastal settlement to coastal settlement; welcoming the new arrivals in English, just like the tribal band before them, “Welcome” “Welcome” “Welcome”

This was the doing of one person, one person on this earth; Squanto.

Many, many years before, other strangers had come, they had come to take, and they took him. Squanto the slave had to work; had to work on an alien vessel, doing alien things. Hard they treated him, and hard he worked. Then came the time that they traded him. To yet another alien vessel, in an alien world, at an alien port.

From there he sailed with this new crew to another world. To a port, as he learned they called them. To the port of London. More beings in one glimpse than he had ever seen in his life.

But he saw his life ahead of him and he jumped ship. He left. He escaped. He survived. He learned the language. English.

Time went by and he had what he needed to know. The ships that landed here could go anywhere. So he asked and he asked, and one of these ships said yes. The captain agreed, yes he was going to the ‘new’ world and yes he would employ him.

All Squanto required in payment was nourishment. Nourishment and hope.

The journey was long. And it was hard.

The shore, at last, was before him. The captain was true to his word. Squanto was free.

He was not bitter. He had learned. And he knew one word more than any other.

Long was his walk, it took him years, but he got down that coast, till he started to recognise where he was…

And was he welcomed, he who had come back from the dead, all these years gone.

As an older wiser man, he taught all around him. The only way to survive in this ‘new’ larger world was to welcome. To welcome.
He taught this word to all who came near him.

And those settlers, all those years onwards were welcome.

All along the coast of the Americas his one true word echoed. “Welcome.” “Welcome.” “Welcome.”


Be thankful and be welcoming.

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For this is Thanksgiving.



Happy Birthday Lars Magnar


Lines of power lance the air

Pierce the essence of you

Lars Magnar is calling

From somewhere

To a place I cannot describe

So we are timeless

Tip your treasured runes

Devine a line of happenstance

Now quadrilate a statement

A patterned plan of self

The new you

We are learning how to state


We are going to a place

World leading to reality point

Lars Magnar has taught us

We are ready


We scream out our fate

                      Adrian Skald to the Chieftain

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