Warren made his way through the garden, careful to walk only on the path of speckled oval stepping-stones. He knew better than to step in the rich black soil and risk damaging any of his Mom’s flowers.

Fresh rainwater dripped from leaves and petals. The flower garden looked as bright and alive as Warren ever remembered seeing it. Everywhere he looked, he saw shades of green sparkling in the afternoon sun. Mixed with the green were yellow, red, blue, orange, and purple flower petals.

Carefully, Warren stepped up to the second level of the layered garden. Turning at a branch in the stepping stone path, Warren made his way toward an iron bench.

A noise caught his attention.

Warren stopped, listening, waiting for the sound to repeat.

Tap, tap, tap.

Warren looked around, searching for the source of the unusual noise.

Tap, tap, tap.

As the noise sounded, Warren saw a cluster of leaves move. Whatever was causing the sound was hidden just a few steps away under those leaves.

Careful not to leave the path, Warren knelt down and reached out a hand. He pushed aside the leaves, revealing a curious sight.

A tiny man was sitting under the leaves. He had a bushy orange beard and eyebrows. The little man was dressed in a bright green suit and hat with shining black shoes with brass buckles. The man held a tiny hammer above a little shoe that rested before him.

The little man looked as surprised to see Warren, as Warren was to see him.

After staring at Warren for a few moments, the tiny person turned his attention back to the shoe and began hammering a small nail into its sole.

Tap, tap, tap.

“That’s what I heard,” Warren said.

Again, the little man paused and looked up at Warren. “Heard me tapping did you?”

The little man’s voice was high-pitched and carried a heavy accent.

Nodding, Warren said, “I’m Warren. Who are you?”

“My name’s O’Shane,” the man said. “Patrick O’Shane. I’m a Leprechaun.”

Warren stared in amazement. “Leprechauns are real?”

Leaning against a thick plant stem, O’Shane said, “Well, I’m real, and I’m a Leprechaun, so Leprechauns must be real.”

Warren frowned. “I guess. But I thought Leprechauns were only for St. Patrick’s Day. That was months ago.”