The Gnome Tree Next Door

HOST, HANNAH WEAVER: 

Next up, Dana Binfet recalls the family folklore surrounding a tree in her neighborhood.

NARRATOR, DANA BINFET: 

I grew up on a suburban block in Santa Monica. Next to our house, on the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the curb sat a big Catalina Cherry tree. This tree was anything but beautiful. It was gnarled and bumpy with weirdly shaped knots and holes, but it was also strong and towering with soft green leaves. 

My brother and I spent long hours in the afternoon sun, climbing up and down, our fingers scratching on the rough bark. My family and I called it the gnome tree because my Grandma Bonnie would tell us stories about the gnomes that lived in the tree. Whenever she was in town, when we’d head for school in the morning, we would fill our pockets with almonds and carefully leave them at the base of the tree for the gnomes. After school we would race home to see what goodies the gnomes left us in exchange. Inevitably the almonds would be gone and in their place would be chocolates wrapped in silver and gold foil.

Grandma Bonnie explained that she was friends with the gnomes which is why they only came out when she was in town. She used to spin stories about the gnomes in the tree that just became part of our family folklore.

Grandma has always been the kind of person who’s in on the joke. She’s the first to crack a smile and make you feel seen. She’s famous for her banana bread, her impeccable fashion sense…and for her captivating stories - the kind you’re never quite sure are true, which only makes them more exciting. We’ve never lived in the same city but always she felt close.

When I was eight, my dad got a new job and we moved away from our street, and the gnome tree. I remember the last day there,  saying our farewells, and hugging the tree for the final time.

It was the street where all my firsts happened. My first steps. The driveway where I learned to tie my shoes. So much happened in our front yard next to the gnome tree. And now we were saying goodbye.

We moved to Calgary, in Western Canada, and my childhood street in LA was suddenly very far away. Then, a couple years later, our old neighbors told my parents that the gnome tree was diseased and had been cut down. I was completely heartbroken. That tree felt like the last tie to the home I grew up in, and the last proof of childhood magic.

I know now that  the tree wasn’t really magical. The gnomes, the stories, the gifts…it all came from Grandma Bonnie. She created that world, and when she did, it made everything around her feel enchanted.

She always has a way of finding joy and whimsy in the small moments and she  makes people feel special everywhere she goes. When I was a kid I loved that about her. 

And even now, on days when I’m having a hard time appreciating the little things, I call my Grandma. And somehow, she always brings a little magic back.

GRANDMA BONNIE: Be good. I’ll try you when things aren’t quite so busy. Love you, bye.