As the weeks go by, there comes a point in time where we all must do some welcomed Spring cleaning. Open those windows to let the air in, dust the heavy rugs, cut and prep fresh flowers. The time has come for Little Ada and she is very eager.
Donning her linen apron she sets to accomplish the tasks at hand with evident relish. No bleakly clothes for her, oh no! She wears her Sunday's best to tackle her favourite chore of the year: to clean the house and get it ready for Easter.
Cutting bits of green paper grass, adorning windows with yellow chick cut-outs and flowers made of silk tissue. The evident use of glue demonstrates either affliction or zealotry.
Vinegar and fuzzy rags, buckets of soapy water, broom in hand. A bonnet that keeps the hair away while you look for dust bunnies under the aging couch. Awed silence at the burrow just found. She touts its epic proportions, probably years gone by without even a gentle sweep down there. I coward.
Her methods are orthodox but she means well. Singing to the dust fairies won't necessarily clean the house, I say. There is no use for realists, albeit kind-hearted ones, in her life she replies. You must believe in the magic of Spring, you really must.
Not only does she believe in this so-called Spring Magic, the one that makes the windows shine and the primroses pop up, but she is also of the theory that one must apply itself if one wants to see more of it. So there she goes, unsullied by buckets and dusters, rolling rugs into fat burritos to be taken outside.
Rosy with health and the mirth of Spring cleaning, she goes about changing linens, picking fresh tea towels and emptying vases full of dusty pinecones and pressed leaves, to exchange for more apropos treasure: big fat roses, happy daisies and the lone stars of the field: the desert marigold.
After my water-tight excuses served no purpose, I was also commandeered to help bring about Spring. Not much help if I'm honest, talents lie at the helm of the sewing machine or pressing down the iron. I shouldn't have spoken. Family failing I suppose. I was entrusted with yards plentiful of napkins, table cloths, pillow cases and even sheets!. The horror. When you are used to tiny doll hems and you are given mastodon proportions. You rue the day.
But the tyrant never stops. This Spring fever hits her hard, every year. She demands to "bottom" the house, no amount of whining or previous engagements are worth it. There is no escape. Looking with disgust at the dust settled on the kitchen curtains, she flicks her fingers about. "Must definitely wash these…and that!". Ghastly child.
Lucky for me, the balmy weather beckons. The chirping birds, the new growth, the gentle sway of the cottonwoods. My wool children are so easily seduced by nature's call, that all I have to do is open a window, just a bit, to let them hear her song. It never fails me!.
When I finally managed to pull Ada away from the bucket fever, we had a big long chat about life. A girl of strong opinions, she is not easily persuaded. We discussed this business of finding homes and what that entails. We mentioned fate, and also serendipity. Her knowing smile reassured me that she is fine, she will be fine. She just needs to find a home in need of Spring cleaning, she knows all the tricks to get the stubborn stains out, and is bound to find someone in need of a girl just like her.
Some days my dolls are the ones giving me the lessons. They re-install my faith in humanity, they bring me back to a wonderful place of love, kindness, playfulness and imagination. A place where small knitted cardigans make your heart jump for joy, where a tiny bit of lace turns your day for the better, and where the simple and eternal smile of a gentle soul shines always upon you.
Such is a life lived with dolls.
Without much ado, Miss Ada is looking for a loving home. I hate to reiterate but you all know what she is all about. I accept no returns if you find her a bit too meddlesome when it comes time to clean the house. You are forewarned.
Ada is an 18,5" tall Figlette doll made with hard-working swiss jersey and stuffed with the most beautiful Canadian wool. Springy and clean, sweet smelling treasure that I use to stuff my dolls ultra firm on the limbs, softer around the tush and torso. Ada's face was sculpted with needle-felting techniques and her eyes embroidered. She has a gentle dusting of giggling freckles and a lovely smile that warms your heart. Her hair is made with long wefts of alpaca locks, sewn to a mohair cap. It can be styled, but only gently.
Ada wears a cotton lawn dress with double skirt, fully lined with cotton gauze. The dress has puffed-up short sleeves with elastic, and is quite long. It closes on the back with snaps. She wears white underpants and socks, made of cotton jersey. A pair of cotton velour maryjanes and a beautiful linen bonnet with added cotton lace. She has her fantastically magical, white linen apron, with a bit of green embroidery in her most favourite colour: asparagus green.
As one last item, I made a sweet Spring cardigan for Ada. It is knit with a cotton/angora blend, long sleeves and a bit of lace detail throughout. Her cardi closes with five gingham wooden buttons. Ada is ready to meet her destiny dressed as such.
I would recommend Ada as a doll for a child that is at least 7+ old and that can play gently with dolls. Numerous small parts and the fickleness of her hair incline me to believe she can only be a playmate for an older child or a child-at-heart. And only of someone who can adore her cleaning fevers as much as I do.
ADA was offered comment style here, and chose her loving home on Friday April 7th, 2017.
Thank you kindly to all the families that offered up residence for the sweet cleaning
lady. Stay tuned for the end of April, when more dolls will be ready.
Thank you so much for coming to read about my Little Ada. I hope she inspires you to bring down those curtains and wash them, let them air dry in a sunny spot. To perhaps pick a few flowers to grace your table and maybe even iron some napkins! Well…that might be pushing it. As soon as there was that kind of ironing to do, I ran the opposite way. But I do have to say, Ada inspired me greatly to see my work with fresh eyes and to also clean top to bottom my studio. And for that, we are immensely grateful.