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by Bill Tiepelman

The Gnome and the Snail Express

The Enchanted Forest wasn’t known for its speed. Most of its residents were content to amble along mossy trails, admire glowing mushrooms, and take the occasional nap in a patch of sunlight. But none were slower—or more determined—than Gnorman the Gnome’s latest companion: an enormous snail named Whiskers. “This is it, Whiskers,” Gnorman said, adjusting his bright red hat as he perched on the snail’s glistening shell. “Our chance to make history! We’re going to win the Great Forest Derby and prove that slow and steady doesn’t just win races—it humiliates smug rabbits along the way!” Whiskers made no response, as he was preoccupied with nibbling on a particularly juicy patch of moss. Gnorman took this as a sign of agreement. “That’s the spirit!” he said, giving the snail’s shell a confident pat. “Now, let’s talk strategy.” The Great Forest Derby The Derby was an annual event, notorious for attracting all kinds of eccentric competitors. There were the squirrels, who cheated by launching themselves from tree to tree. There was a team of field mice with a cart pulled by a very confused hedgehog. And, of course, there was Gnorman’s arch-nemesis, Thistle the Hare, whose cocky grin and perfect teeth made Gnorman’s beard bristle with irritation. “What’s that, Gnorman?” Thistle called as he hopped over. “Trading in your boots for a snail? I’d tell you to try and keep up, but… well, we both know that’s not happening.” “Laugh it up, carrot-breath,” Gnorman snapped. “This snail is a precision-engineered racing machine. We’re going to wipe the mossy floor with you!” Thistle snorted. “I’ll save you a spot at the finish line—about three hours after I get there.” With that, the hare bounded away, leaving Gnorman seething. “Don’t listen to him, Whiskers,” he muttered. “We’ve got this in the bag. Probably.” The Race Begins The starting line was a chaotic mess of creatures, all jostling for position. Gnorman tightened his grip on the reins he’d fashioned out of vine and gave Whiskers an encouraging nod. “All right, buddy. Nice and steady. Let’s show these amateurs how it’s done.” The whistle blew, and the racers exploded into motion—or, in Whiskers’ case, a leisurely slide forward. Squirrels darted ahead. Mice squeaked commands to their hedgehog. Thistle the Hare was already a blur in the distance. Gnorman, however, remained calm. “Patience, Whiskers,” he said. “Let them tire themselves out. We’ll make our move when it counts.” By the time they reached the first checkpoint, Whiskers had managed to overtake a tortoise (who had paused for a snack) and a beetle (whose enthusiasm had been derailed by an ill-timed nap). Gnorman was feeling smug—until he noticed a familiar figure lounging on a rock up ahead. “What took you so long?” Thistle called, tossing a carrot in the air and catching it in his mouth. “Did you stop for sightseeing? Oh wait—you’re riding a snail. That’s sightseeing.” “Keep laughing, fuzzball,” Gnorman muttered under his breath. “You won’t be so smug when Whiskers and I pull off the upset of the century.” The Prank At the halfway point, Gnorman decided it was time for a little mischief. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a pouch of pixie dust he’d “borrowed” from a friendly sprite. “This ought to spice things up,” he said, sprinkling the glittering powder along Whiskers’ trail. Moments later, chaos erupted. The hedgehog pulling the mice’s cart sneezed violently, sending the cart careening off the trail. A flock of sparrows, mesmerized by the sparkling dust, began dive-bombing Thistle, who flailed wildly in an attempt to fend them off. “What the—?!” Thistle shouted as a particularly bold sparrow made off with his carrot. “Who’s responsible for this madness?!” Gnorman tried to look innocent, though his uncontrollable giggling didn’t help. “Just a bit of friendly competition!” he called out, clutching Whiskers’ reins as the snail glided serenely past the chaos. “You’re welcome!” The Final Stretch By the time they reached the final leg of the race, Thistle had recovered and was closing in fast. Gnorman could see the finish line up ahead, but Whiskers was beginning to slow down. “Come on, buddy,” he urged. “Just a little farther! Think of the glory! Think of the… uh… extra moss I’ll bring you if we win!” Whiskers perked up at the mention of moss and surged forward with surprising speed. Gnorman whooped as they crossed the finish line just ahead of Thistle, who skidded to a halt in disbelief. “What?! No!” the hare yelled. “That’s impossible! You cheated!” “Cheating?” Gnorman said, feigning outrage. “That’s a serious accusation, Thistle. I’ll have you know this victory was entirely due to Whiskers’ superior athleticism and my expert coaching.” The crowd erupted in applause and laughter as Gnorman accepted his prize: a golden acorn trophy and a year’s worth of bragging rights. “Slow and steady wins the race,” he said with a wink, holding the trophy aloft. “And never underestimate a gnome with a good sense of humor—and a big bag of pixie dust.” Whiskers, now happily munching on a fresh patch of moss, seemed entirely uninterested in the glory. But Gnorman didn’t mind. He had a trophy, a story for the ages, and the satisfaction of wiping the smug grin off Thistle’s face. Life in the Enchanted Forest didn’t get much better than that. Bring the Whimsy Home Love Gnorman and Whiskers’ hilarious journey? Bring their delightful adventure into your home with these magical products, inspired by the whimsical world of the Enchanted Forest: Tapestries: Add a touch of fantasy to your walls with this vibrant and enchanting design. Canvas Prints: Perfect for bringing Gnorman and Whiskers’ adventure to life in your favorite space. Puzzles: Piece together the fun with a playful and charming puzzle featuring this whimsical duo. Tote Bags: Take the magic on the go with a stylish tote bag perfect for daily adventures. Start your collection today and let Gnorman and Whiskers bring a bit of mischief and magic to your life!

by Bill Tiepelman

Gnome in Chrome at Twilight

Meet Grimble “Greasefinger” McThorn—a gnome with a taste for chrome, a heart for mischief, and an unbreakable loyalty to the open road. Grimble wasn’t your typical lawn gnome, no sir. While others spent their days smiling politely at passing squirrels, Grimble had a bigger agenda: causing mayhem across the highways and deserts of Gnomeland. With his black helmet, leather vest, and trademark smirk, he was ready to take on the world—or at least prank it to pieces. The Legend of The Twilight Ride The story begins one fateful evening when Grimble heard tales of an enchanted bar known as "The Toad's Last Sip." This was no ordinary watering hole; it was a place where gnomes went for drinks so strong they’d leave you thinking you could ride a unicorn bareback through a thunderstorm. But more importantly, it was rumored that on this particular night, the bar was hosting the “Twilight Rider’s Challenge,” a legendary bike rally where pranks weren’t just welcomed—they were expected. Grimble’s eyes sparkled under his helmet. “A place where chaos is encouraged? Well, don’t mind if I do!” he chuckled, revving up his chopper, Rusty Thunder, a bike with more chrome than good sense and a growl loud enough to make a cactus shiver. Prank Stop #1: The Cactus Cafe About halfway to the Toad's Last Sip, Grimble came across a small roadside café called the Cactus Cafe. A group of gnomes were sipping espresso and nibbling on tiny biscotti, looking way too calm for Grimble’s liking. He smirked and pulled over, deciding it was high time to “liven” things up. Grimble sauntered in, eyes gleaming with mischief, and ordered a cup of coffee. As the barista turned his back, Grimble casually reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a handful of jumping beans, and dumped them into the sugar jar. Within seconds, pandemonium erupted. Sugar containers hopped off tables, biscotti bounced out of hands, and bewildered gnomes tried (and failed) to catch their rogue coffee additions. Grimble took a slow, satisfied sip of his coffee, watching the chaos unfold with a grin. “Sweetener's got a real kick, huh?” he remarked to a flustered barista before casually strolling out, leaving the café in a state of hopping madness. Prank Stop #2: The Law Gets a Surprise Back on the road, Grimble spotted a familiar figure in his rearview mirror: Officer Bigfoot, the grumpiest gnome cop on the Gnomeland highway. Officer Bigfoot had been trying to catch Grimble in the act for years but had yet to succeed. And today, Grimble was feeling especially cheeky. With a smirk, Grimble reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial labeled "Mystic Smokescreen." He slowed down just enough for Officer Bigfoot to catch up, then cracked open the vial and tossed it behind him. Instantly, a cloud of sparkling purple smoke erupted from his bike, enveloping the road and obscuring everything in a dazzling haze. Officer Bigfoot, blinded by the swirling sparkles, veered off the road, right into a patch of prickly cacti. Grimble chuckled as he heard a faint shout of "MCTHORN!" from somewhere in the purple cloud. He sped up, whistling a merry tune. Another prank, another triumph. The Toad’s Last Sip: Where Pranks Are Made Legend Finally, Grimble arrived at The Toad’s Last Sip, where gnomes from all over had gathered to take part in the Twilight Rider’s Challenge. The bar was a raucous scene, filled with laughter, music, and the smell of questionable mushroom stew. Grimble strode in with a swagger, ready to make his mark. The first prank of the night? A little surprise for the bartenders. Grimble slipped behind the counter and switched out the normal bar snacks for his special “Flame Popcorn,” seasoned with gnome chili powder. Within minutes, unsuspecting patrons were dashing to the bar for water, faces red and eyes wide with shock. “What’s the matter?” Grimble asked with a grin. “Too hot to handle?” He tipped his helmet at the bartender, who was laughing too hard to care. One Last Ride As midnight approached, Grimble decided it was time for his grand finale. He’d heard whispers about the “Ancient Troll’s Tankard”—a massive stein that was said to bestow legendary strength on any gnome who dared to drink from it. Naturally, Grimble saw it as an opportunity to have a little fun. With a wink to the crowd, he climbed atop the bar, raised the tankard high, and poured the entire thing over himself, letting the mystical brew drench his helmet and jacket. For a moment, the crowd was silent, watching in awe. Then, with a bellow, Grimble flexed his tiny arms and roared, “I AM THE MIGHTIEST GNOME ALIVE!” The crowd erupted in laughter and applause as he flexed his “muscles” and struck ridiculous poses. Just as he was about to take his bow, he heard a familiar shout from the doorway. “GRIMBLE MCTHORN!” It was Officer Bigfoot, covered in cactus needles and looking madder than a troll with a stubbed toe. Grimble grinned, tossed the tankard to the bartender, and yelled, “Sorry, Officer! Looks like the road’s calling!” He hopped onto Rusty Thunder, revved the engine, and tore out of the bar, leaving a trail of laughter, cheers, and one very furious cop in his wake. The Legend Lives On As Grimble sped off into the sunrise, the patrons of The Toad’s Last Sip raised their glasses in a toast to the most mischievous gnome on the road. And thus, the legend of Grimble “Greasefinger” McThorn grew—a tale of pranks, rebellion, and a gnome’s unquenchable thirst for chaos. The End (Or perhaps, just the beginning of another ride) Bring Grimble’s Mischievous Spirit Home If you love Grimble “Greasefinger” McThorn’s wild, prank-filled journey, bring a piece of his rebellious spirit to your space! The artwork "Gnome in Chrome at Twilight" by Bill and Linda Tiepelman is available in various formats that perfectly capture the humor and adventure of this gnome on the open road. Check out these exclusive options: Tapestry - Transform any wall into a backdrop of adventure with this vivid tapestry, perfect for bringing Grimble’s spirit into your home. Metal Print - Add a modern touch to your decor with this high-quality metal print, showcasing the gleaming chrome details of Grimble’s bike. Puzzle - Relive Grimble’s escapades piece by piece with this fun and challenging puzzle, perfect for fans of whimsy and adventure. Wood Print - Embrace a rustic look with this wood print, bringing warmth and character to your walls with Grimble’s unforgettable twilight ride. Let Grimble remind you every day that life is best lived with a little mischief and a whole lot of adventure!

by Bill Tiepelman

Beard, Boots, and Baby Dragon

Deep in the heart of the Widdershins Woods, where even the bravest adventurers dared not tread (mostly because the gnomes had lousy hygiene), lived a bearded gnome named Grimble Stumbletoe. Grimble was infamous for two things: his crass sense of humor and his inexplicably loyal companion, a pint-sized dragon named Sizzle. Together, they were the stuff of tavern tales, mostly told by those who’d had one too many and enjoyed a good laugh at Grimble's questionable antics. The Introduction of Sizzle Now, Sizzle wasn’t your average dragon. He was barely the size of a large cat and looked more like someone had stuck wings on a grumpy lizard. When Grimble first found him, curled up under a toadstool in the early hours of the morning, the gnome’s first words were, “Well, aren’t you an ugly little bugger?” To which Sizzle responded by promptly setting his beard on fire. “Ah, he’s got spirit,” Grimble cackled as he smothered the flames with a slap of his grubby hand. “I like ya already, you little menace.” And thus began the start of a beautiful, if somewhat volatile, friendship. Grimble’s Daily Routines (Or Lack Thereof) Each morning, Grimble would saunter out of his hollowed-out tree, scratch his beard, and take a deep, satisfied breath of the forest air. “Ah, smell that, Sizzle! Smells like freedom. And possibly a dead raccoon.” He’d then look down at Sizzle, who would nod with a solemn understanding, as if to say, “I too, smell the raccoon, Grimble.” For breakfast, Grimble favored a diet of mushrooms, stale bread, and whatever he could scrounge from the woodland creatures, who were less than willing to share. “Oi, squirrel, that’s mine!” he’d yell, occasionally hurling a pebble at a furry thief. Sizzle, meanwhile, would practice his fire-spitting skills, toasting bugs and once nearly incinerating Grimble’s hat. “Careful there, you fire-breathing gecko!” Grimble would say, shaking his finger. “You char my favorite hat again, and it’s roasted squirrel for dinner.” Encounters in the Forest One fine afternoon, as they strolled through a particularly dense patch of undergrowth, they encountered a lost adventurer—a young man in shiny armor, looking as fresh as a daisy and about as clueless as one, too. “Excuse me, sir,” the young man stammered, “have you seen the path to the Great Elven Temple?” Grimble eyed him with a wry grin, then leaned in close, a bit too close for comfort. “Elven Temple? Oh sure, it’s right over that hill. Just mind the goblin nests, the troll dung, and the occasional trap set by yours truly.” He winked. “Might take a while, though. So, unless you fancy an evening spent picking rocks out of yer backside, I’d suggest you turn around.” “I-I’ll keep that in mind,” the adventurer replied, pale and visibly unnerved as he backed away. Once he was out of earshot, Grimble chuckled, “Bloody do-gooders. Always thinkin’ they’re about to save the world or some such nonsense.” Sizzle let out a growl that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Evening Shenanigans As dusk fell, Grimble and Sizzle would set up camp. Grimble, who prided himself on being “one with nature” (mostly because he was too lazy to build a proper shelter), would lie back on a patch of moss and settle in for the night, regaling Sizzle with tales of his “glorious past.” “I once held off an entire pack of wolves with nothing but a pointy stick!” he boasted, making grand gestures. “Mind you, they were about as big as yer average rabbit, but wolves is wolves, right?” Sizzle, unimpressed, would snort a little puff of flame. He had a habit of turning his head as if rolling his eyes, which only encouraged Grimble to embellish further. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. And anyway, you’re no saint, ya little fire-bellied troublemaker. Remember last week when you burnt down old Miss Frumpel’s toadstool cottage?” Sizzle looked away, feigning innocence, while Grimble chuckled. “Aye, she deserved it though, always waggin’ her finger at me, tellin’ me to ‘watch my language.’ If I wanted a lecture, I’d talk to the damn owls!” Grimble’s “Heroic” Deeds One night, a commotion arose from the nearby grove. There was shouting, the clash of metal, and the unmistakable thud of something heavy crashing into a tree. “Adventure calls, Sizzle!” Grimble whispered with an overly dramatic flair, pulling his rusted dagger from his belt. “Let’s see if there’s a few coins to be made out of this mess.” They slunk through the underbrush until they found the source: a band of goblins arguing over a pile of glittering loot. “Oi!” Grimble yelled, striding out from the bushes. “Didn’t yer mothers teach ya not to make such a racket?” The goblins froze, staring at the odd pair. Grimble’s unimpressive stature and Sizzle’s miniature size made for a ridiculous sight, but Grimble was undeterred. “Now, I’ll be takin’ that shiny stuff there, and if ya make it easy, I won’t set my dragon on ya. He’s a vicious beast, see?” At that, Sizzle let out a tiny roar, barely a squeak, which only made Grimble snicker. The goblins, however, weren’t amused. With a series of hisses and snarls, they lunged. The Grand Battle (Sort Of) It was pure chaos. Goblins shrieked, Sizzle spat tiny spurts of flame, and Grimble dodged like a drunken acrobat, yelling insults at anyone who came near. “You call that a swing, you sorry excuse for a potato!” he bellowed, ducking under a goblin’s club. “My gran fights better than you, and she’s been dead three decades!” In the end, Sizzle managed to ignite a few well-placed bushes, which startled the goblins into fleeing. Grimble, panting and looking far more triumphant than he had any right to, picked up a shiny coin and spat on it to polish it. “Aye, well fought, Sizzle,” he said with a nod. “They’ll be singin’ tales of this day for sure. ‘Grimble the Bold and his Mighty Dragon,’ they’ll call it!” Sizzle tilted his head, clearly skeptical, but Grimble ignored him, pocketing a handful of the goblins’ abandoned loot with a gleeful grin. The Journey Continues The next morning, Grimble and Sizzle set off once more, as they always did, with no particular destination in mind. “So, Sizzle,” Grimble mused, “what d’you reckon we’ll find today? Perhaps a damsel in distress? Or maybe some rich fool wanderin’ through the woods, just beggin’ to lose his purse?” Sizzle gave him a sideways glance, a puff of smoke rising from his nostrils as if to say, “Or maybe you’ll just get us into more trouble.” Grimble chuckled, ruffling the little dragon’s scales. “Ah, trouble’s what keeps life interestin’, eh?” With a skip and a swagger, he strolled off into the forest, the laughter of a grumpy old gnome and the tiny roars of his loyal dragon echoing through the woods. And so they wandered on, the crassest, funniest, most mismatched duo in all of Widdershins Woods, much to the terror—and amusement—of everyone they met. Bring Grimble and Sizzle Home If Grimble's antics and Sizzle's fiery spirit brought a smile to your face, why not bring a piece of their adventure home? This delightfully mischievous duo is available on a range of high-quality products that will add a dash of whimsical charm to any space. Check out these Beard, Boots, and Baby Dragon products, perfect for fantasy lovers and humor enthusiasts alike: Jigsaw Puzzle - Get lost in Grimble’s world piece by piece. Tapestry - Transform your wall into the heart of Widdershins Woods with this vibrant tapestry. Canvas Print - Perfect for any room that could use a bit of fantasy flair. Throw Pillow - Cozy up with Grimble and Sizzle’s hilarious companionship. Whether you’re a fan of gnomish humor or just love the idea of a dragon the size of a cat, these products let you bring a little bit of Widdershins Woods into your everyday life. Because, after all, who couldn't use a bit more magic and mischief?

by Bill Tiepelman

The Harvest Watcher

The Harvest Watcher’s Halloween Havoc It was Halloween night, the one night when The Harvest Watcher, a tiny elf with a sass level rivaled only by her height (about three inches, but don’t tell her that), had to keep a sharp eye on her pumpkin patch. She loved her job, really. Guarding pumpkins was her calling. But tonight, the forest felt different. The wind howled louder, the trees seemed darker, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted in a way that sounded suspiciously like laughter. This wasn’t just any Halloween—it was the full-moon kind, and every nutty ghoul and clueless mortal was about to waltz right into her patch. “Not on my watch,” she muttered, cracking her knuckles and adjusting her hat, which was festooned with berries, leaves, and enough autumn flair to put a Pinterest board to shame. She had barely settled onto her favorite stump when she heard a rustling in the bushes. Her heart sank. "Who goes there?” she called, her tiny voice echoing with a surprising authority. Out of the shadows slunk a group of costumed kids, about ten of them, carrying flashlights and candy bags already half-full. “Look, there she is! The forest elf!” one of them squealed, pointing right at her. Oh, for pumpkin’s sake. The Harvest Watcher sighed. She was hoping for at least another hour before the Halloween thrill-seekers showed up. But there was no stopping them once the stories got out. She glared at them, hands on her tiny hips. “What do you think you’re doing here? Don’t you have houses to egg or candy to steal?” she demanded, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We’re looking for the legendary forest treasures,” one particularly bold kid declared, flashing an annoyingly toothy grin. “We heard the elf would grant us a wish if we found her!” The Harvest Watcher snorted. “A wish? The only thing I’m going to grant you is a swift kick in the keister if you touch a single pumpkin.” But the kids only giggled, clearly unbothered by her threats. “Alright, last warning, kiddos,” she hissed, grabbing her trusty staff—a tiny twig but enchanted to pack a punch. They weren’t scared, so she figured it was time to give them a taste of her power. With a flourish, she waved her twig-staff, and the pumpkins began to glow with an eerie orange light. Their carved faces twisted and grinned, and the forest seemed to whisper, "Turn back…." Most of the kids screamed and took off, but one stubborn kid—the one who probably still believed in Santa at age fifteen—stood his ground, staring her down. “I’m not scared of you, tiny elf!” he taunted. “I’ll just take this pumpkin here and…” Before he could finish, the Harvest Watcher flicked her fingers, and the pumpkin he was reaching for came to life, sprouting vine-arms that wrapped around his legs. “HELP!” he yelped as he struggled to break free. The vines held firm, dragging him backwards as his friends yelled, “Leave it, Todd! She’s real! Run!” With a smirk, The Harvest Watcher released him, and he bolted after his friends, his dignity left somewhere between the forest entrance and the nearest pumpkin. Good riddance. She dusted off her hands. But the night wasn’t over yet. Far from it. Just as she was about to settle back down, she heard another rustling sound—this time from behind. “Please, let this be another raccoon in a witch hat,” she muttered, turning around. But what she saw made her jaw drop. Out of the trees sauntered three full-grown adults dressed as vampires. And not the classy, “I-hung-out-with-Dracula” type vampires. No, these were the bargain-bin, black-lipstick, ripped-fishnet-wearing kind. And judging by the bottles in their hands, they’d been celebrating since sundown. “Look, it’s the elf,” one of them slurred, leaning on his friend. “The one from the legends, right? If we catch her, we get a… a… prize or something?” The friend shrugged, mumbling something about how they “didn’t come all this way to get spooked by a forest pixie.” The Harvest Watcher groaned. “Alright, boys, turn around and head back to your party. I’m not here to entertain drunken vampires.” But they kept advancing, circling her pumpkin patch like wolves around a chicken coop. “Fine,” she said, cracking her knuckles again. “You want a Halloween scare? You’ve got it.” She chanted a few words in an ancient elfin tongue, and suddenly the pumpkins erupted into a roaring blaze of orange and green fire, illuminating the forest in an otherworldly light. The three men froze, their faces pale under the flickering glow. But that wasn’t enough for The Harvest Watcher. She flicked her wrist, and one of the pumpkins sprouted legs, hopping over to the lead vampire and letting out a tiny but menacing roar. “AHHH!” he shrieked, dropping his bottle and scrambling backwards. “And don’t come back!” she yelled after them as they stumbled and tripped their way out of the forest, half of them babbling apologies and the other half screaming about “demon pumpkins.” By now, the forest was quiet, and she was almost ready to call it a night. But Halloween had one last surprise for her. From the shadows, a cloaked figure emerged, small but dignified, with a pumpkin head carved with an elaborate, toothy grin. “Watcher,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. The Harvest Watcher narrowed her eyes. “Jack. You’re late.” Jack-o’-Lantern, the spirit of Halloween himself, shrugged. “Busy night, you know how it is. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for keeping things in order here.” “All in a night’s work, Jack. But you owe me. These mortals are getting more obnoxious every year.” Jack chuckled. “Fine. Next year, I’ll send you some reinforcements. Maybe a few werewolves to liven things up.” He gave her a wink, his carved face casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. And with that, he vanished into the mist, leaving The Harvest Watcher alone with her pumpkins and the lingering smell of cider and firelight. She gave one last look around her patch, satisfied that she’d held her ground. “Happy Halloween,” she whispered to her pumpkins. “Now rest up…there’s always next year.” As the night grew quiet, The Harvest Watcher finally leaned back, content that her pumpkins were safe for another Halloween. But for those who wished to bring a piece of her pumpkin-protecting magic home, she’d left behind a few enchanted treasures of her own. Celebrate the spirit of Halloween year-round with The Harvest Watcher collection, available in charming forms: Throw Pillow – Bring cozy, whimsical charm to your space with this delightful pillow featuring The Harvest Watcher herself. Puzzle – Embrace a magical challenge and piece together this enchanting autumn scene, one pumpkin at a time. Tote Bag – Carry a bit of Halloween magic wherever you go with this sturdy, stylish tote bag. Tapestry – Transform any room into an autumn forest with a tapestry that captures all the whimsy and wonder of The Harvest Watcher’s realm. Whether you're a lover of Halloween, a fan of fantasy, or simply want to enjoy a touch of fall magic, The Harvest Watcher collection is here to bring a little enchantment to your everyday life. Happy Halloween…and remember, keep an eye on your pumpkins!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Mush-room for Debate

There was peace in the forest. Well, there had been peace in the forest until Gilda and Bramble started up—again. “For the last time, Bramble,” Gilda huffed, arms crossed so tightly that even the wildflowers in her crown looked nervous, “you cannot put mushrooms in everything! This isn’t some foraged gourmet forest bistro. I don’t care what you heard from the squirrels!” Across from her, Bramble, ever the optimist (or so he called himself—Gilda had other words for it), grinned through his bushy beard. His oversized hat tilted to one side, festooned with more flowers and mushrooms than any self-respecting gnome should wear. “Now, now,” he said, holding up a finger like he was about to impart ancient wisdom. “You’re not giving these little beauties enough credit. Mushrooms are the foundation of all culinary genius. Why, without them—” “We’d be eating something that doesn’t taste like dirt,” Gilda cut in, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink. “You put mushrooms in the soup, mushrooms in the stew, you even tried to sneak them into my tea! If I wanted everything to taste like the bottom of my shoe, I’d—” “Wait, wait, wait!” Bramble interjected, eyes twinkling with mischief. “How do you know what the bottom of your shoe tastes like? Been nibbling on your boots again, eh? I told you, Gilda, there’s tastier snacks out here, and guess what? They’re mushrooms!” Gilda stared at him, deadpan. “You are going to be the death of me, Bramble. Or, at the very least, the death of my appetite.” She turned and motioned at the forest around them. “There are thousands of other ingredients in this entire forest. Berries, herbs, nuts… Why, I even saw a deer the other day—” “Oh-ho!” Bramble piped up, waggling his finger. “Look who’s thinking about eating Bambi now. And you called me the barbarian.” He stuck his tongue out, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “The deer is off the menu, obviously,” Gilda replied with a sigh. “But we have options, Bramble! You don’t need to make every meal a mushroom festival.” Bramble leaned in, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “Tell me something, Gilda. Why the sudden anti-fungus agenda? What did mushrooms ever do to you? Did one offend you in your sleep? Did it—gasp—touch your flower crown?” Gilda threw her hands up in exasperation. “They don’t have to do anything! It’s just common sense not to base your entire diet on something that grows in the dark and smells like... decay!” She glanced at the mushrooms around them, their caps glistening with morning dew. They seemed to be taunting her now, all of them smugly rooted in place as Bramble’s best allies. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Bramble said, raising a finger in triumph. “Mushrooms are versatile, robust, and quite fashionable, if I do say so myself.” He adjusted the tiny mushroom growing out of his hat for emphasis. “They go with everything. Look at this beauty!” He gestured to the enormous mushroom behind him, its bright red cap looming over them both like an umbrella. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want this in your living room? Decorative and delicious!” “Bramble, if you put that in the house, I swear I will burn it down myself. And then where will we live? Under another mushroom?” Gilda shot back. Bramble scratched his beard, pretending to consider. “Hmm… I do hear they’re quite spacious if you hollow them out. Cozy, even. Could be the start of a trend—mushroom living, eco-friendly and efficient!” He raised his eyebrows as if he were a revolutionary genius. “Plus, think of the convenience—if you get hungry in the middle of the night, just nibble on the wall!” Gilda groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “The only thing I’ll be nibbling on is my last bit of sanity.” She turned away, mumbling to herself. “I should have married that wood sprite. He at least knew how to cook something besides fungus.” Bramble, undeterred, sidled up beside her, still grinning. “Come now, love. Don’t be such a sourberry. Mushrooms are good for you! Full of fiber, antioxidants, and a little earthy mystery. Besides, without them, what would you complain about? I’m doing you a favor, really.” Gilda shot him a look that could have frozen lava. “Oh, believe me, I would find something. You’re a never-ending source of complaints.” Bramble’s grin only widened. “That’s the spirit! See? This is why we make such a good team. You keep me grounded, and I keep you on your toes. Or at least, toe-deep in mushrooms.” Gilda rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smirk creeping up on her lips. “If you even think about adding mushrooms to dessert tonight, I will relocate you to the shed. Permanently.” “Fine, fine. No mushrooms in the dessert… this time,” Bramble relented, his expression still far too gleeful for her liking. As they walked back to their cozy home nestled in the woods, Bramble hummed a merry tune, while Gilda muttered under her breath, something about “one more mushroom and I’m moving into the berry patch.” The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the forest, and the mushrooms around them sparkled in the soft light. It would have been peaceful, serene even—if not for Bramble’s sudden outburst. “Oh! Wait! What if we made mushroom-flavored jam? It’d be revolutionary! Sweet, savory, a real fusion of—” “BRAMBLE!” And so, the great mushroom debate continued, as eternal as their love, and just as frustrating.

by Bill Tiepelman

Laughing with Dragons: A Gnome's Joyful Moment

In a forest where the trees never stop gossiping and the mushrooms grow as tall as your ego, there lived a gnome named Grimble Bottomsworth. Grimble wasn’t just your average gnome—oh no, he was the gnome who could out-laugh a banshee, out-drink a troll, and out-flirt a tree nymph (not that the nymphs appreciated it). Sitting atop his favorite oversized toadstool, he was having one of his famous chuckling fits. But this time, he had a new partner in crime: a baby dragon named Snarky. Now, Snarky wasn’t your typical dragon. For starters, he was about the size of a house cat and didn’t breathe fire, but he did occasionally burp out something that smelled worse than an ogre’s armpit. Snarky flapped his tiny wings, perched in Grimble's grubby hand, puffing out his chest like he was the king of this absurdly colorful jungle. Grimble cackled. “Look at this little bugger! Thinks he’s fierce! Ha! You couldn’t roast a marshmallow if it begged ya, could ya, Snarky?” Snarky, feeling the insult (or maybe just responding to Grimble’s constant stench of ale and mushroom stew), let out a tiny, yet surprisingly sharp, flame that singed a bit of Grimble’s beard. The gnome paused, blinked, and then erupted into laughter so hearty that a nearby squirrel dropped its acorn in shock. “Oi! That’s the best ya got? My granny’s breath is hotter than that, and she’s been dead for forty years!” Grimble slapped his knee, almost tipping off the toadstool as his leathery boots dangled in the air. “Bloody brilliant!” The Unfortunate Toadstool Incident As Grimble kept laughing, his mushroom throne gave a low groan. You see, toadstools aren’t exactly made to support the weight of a gnome who spent most of his life binge-eating pies and downing mead. With a rather unceremonious squelch, the toadstool gave way, collapsing beneath Grimble’s rotund rear with a fart-like noise that echoed through the forest. “Well, bugger me sideways!” Grimble exclaimed as he found himself flat on his back, surrounded by the remnants of what was once his beloved mushroom seat. “That toadstool didn’t stand a chance, did it? Too much ale and… well, let’s just say I’ve had a few more pies than I should’ve.” Snarky let out a snicker, which was an odd sound coming from a dragon, but it seemed fitting. The tiny dragon flapped his wings, hovering just above Grimble’s beard, which had now caught a few mushroom chunks. “Oi! You laughing at me, ya scaly little fart?” Grimble grunted, wiping his hands on his tunic, smearing dirt and mushroom bits across it. “Bloody hell, this place is a mess. I look like a drunk dwarf after a wedding feast. Not that I’m much better at weddings either… well, not after what happened last time.” He trailed off, muttering something about a goat and too much wine. A Foul Bet “Tell ya what, Snarky,” Grimble said, still sprawled on the ground, one leg draped over a broken mushroom stalk, “if you can manage to burn that there big ol’ mushroom,” he pointed to a colossal red-capped toadstool about ten feet away, “I’ll get ya all the roasted rabbits you can stomach. But if you fail, you’ve gotta clean my boots for a month! And trust me, they smell worse than a troll after a spa day.” Snarky narrowed his eyes and let out a determined growl that sounded more like a hiccup. He swooped down to the ground, planted his tiny claws, and puffed up his chest. With a snort, he unleashed a pathetic puff of smoke that dissipated in the wind faster than Grimble’s last bit of dignity. “Oh, come on! My piss after a night at the tavern’s got more heat than that!” Grimble guffawed, rolling over and clutching his belly. “Looks like you’ll be lickin’ my boots clean, mate!” Snarky, thoroughly annoyed, darted forward and clamped his tiny jaws onto Grimble’s nose. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but just enough to make the gnome yelp. “Oi! You cheeky bastard!” Grimble yelped, pulling the dragon off his face and glaring at him, though the effect was lost because he was still laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll give ya a rabbit anyway, ya little shit.” He scratched the back of his head and let out a deep sigh, the kind only someone who’s eaten one too many pies could muster. The Aftermath As the day wore on, Grimble and Snarky settled into their usual routine of half-hearted bickering, mushroom-smashing, and general forest chaos. Despite their insults and shenanigans, they made quite the pair—both oddballs in their own right, united by their love of mischief and the fact that neither of them could take life (or each other) too seriously. And so, in the heart of the enchanted forest, with his belly full of pie and his beard smelling faintly of burnt mushrooms, Grimble Bottomsworth spent his days laughing with dragons, farting on mushrooms, and reminding anyone who crossed his path that even in a world full of magic, sometimes the best thing you can do is sit back, have a laugh, and let the dragon bite your nose when you've earned it. “Here’s to another day of nonsense,” Grimble said, raising his flask to Snarky, “and may your farts never be hotter than your breath, ya useless little lizard.” Snarky burped in response. “Atta boy.” Bring the Whimsy Home! If you enjoyed Grimble’s wild antics and Snarky’s mischief, you can bring a piece of this magical world into your own! Check out these delightful products featuring "Laughing with Dragons: A Gnome's Joyful Moment": Jigsaw Puzzle – Perfect for piecing together Grimble’s hilarious adventures while enjoying some leisurely fun. Acrylic Print – Elevate your space with a vibrant, high-quality acrylic print that captures every laugh and mushroom fart in stunning detail. Greeting Card – Share a bit of Grimble’s joy with friends and family through whimsical greeting cards that feature this fantastical scene. Don’t miss out on these enchanting collectibles! Whether you’re a fan of puzzles or looking to brighten someone’s day with a card, these products bring the magic to life in your hands.