It was a weekend. Colin was sick. I wasn't well. I didn't leave my house from Wednesday until Saturday. There wasn't a whole lot of picture taking going on. There wasn't a whole lot of anything going on, including inspiration.
While cleaning, I started thinking about these guys again. They were my mothers. My father got them for her 20-25 years ago. I always liked them growing up and she gave them to me about 5 years ago. I still like them, but I'm always tempted to get rid of them. I don't know why. I want to give them to someone that will love them. But no one does! ha! None of my friends want them, my sister doesn't want them. But I don't want to just send them to a thrift store. I feel like I'm the keeper of the trolls, I can't just discard them. There's a neat little certification that comes with them too, I should frame it and put it up with them.
I am old. I am very old.
As old as Nature herself, and with wisdom to match.
We live in the deep mystical region between your Imagination and Reality.
Our magic powers have never been equaled.
Nature is our life and concern:
We collect food for the birds in the winter, make cozy beds for the bears
and snowflakes for your hair.
We store acorns and nuts for the squirrels, provide dewdrops for the spider webs and cool summer breezes. We water wildflowers in the spring, color the leaves yellow and red in the autumn, and turn our forests into a fairyland of magnificent majesty.
Because this is the home of the Trolls!
Very few have ever seen us-- We move with lightning speed. We do our work with loving care and expect you to do the same--
Only then will we also take care of you! Remember--for your own sake-- every time one of you says:
"I don't believe in trolls!"
somewhere a little Troll leaves this world forever!
Then you have lost a real friend.
They're called Arensbak trolls, and they are actually pretty neat. There are a bunch of different ones and they are still creating new ones.