Spring cleaning: watch for hidden trolls

As spring creeps in, melting snow reveals treasures hidden underneath. Many begin to think about spring cleaning. Those of us who are of Scandinavian descent know to watch for trolls.
After 13 years of having my grandmother’s nativity set on display year-round in my china cabinet, I decided it was time for a change. I rummaged through the upstairs closet and brought out the storage boxes for the set. One box is labeled with the contents and date of purchase of the original set by my grandmother. Over the years, new pieces were added and the set now requires four boxes to hold these treasures.
After affectionately nestling each piece in cotton and quilt batting, I put the boxes back in the closet. Now I was able to bring out the pretty dishes from their 13 year hiatus in the bottom of the cabinet. As I reached my arm far into the back corner, I discovered the trolls.
When I was a small child, one of my favorite toys was my trolls. I still have two of the four-inch high, plastic creatures; one male and one female. When you count their orange hair, they are a good eight inches high. Large ears, full cheeks, and a bulbous nose grace their faces and eyes bigger than a Disney heroine are prominent. Four-fingered hands reach out from short arms, as if ready to give everyone they meet a hug. Four-toed feed on short, stubby legs keep them securely upright, balancing their extended bellies above.
How do you tell a male troll from a female? By their clothing, of course.
My Norwegian grandmother sat at her treadle sewing machine (which I still have) and sewed clothes for our trolls as birthday and Christmas presents. These gifts were usually made from felt, with two holes cut for arms. I know which troll is female because her clothes are decorated with lace or ribbons.
My trolls have been waiting to take their place on display in the cabinet, but they haven’t been idle during those 13 years. I know this because along with them, I pulled out a small baby troll, about an inch high with pink hair and bunny slippers on her feet. Trolls multiply when left unattended.
There are many Scandinavian legends of trolls. Most legends talk of large, hairy creatures hiding under bridges, ready to eat small children who pass overhead. My trolls wouldn’t hurt anyone. I look at their wide, childish smiles and it makes me smile along with them. I spent many hours as a child dressing them, talking to them and having adventures with them. My trolls didn’t live under bridges with wet, rocky beds. My trolls had houses made from cardboard boxes with their own soft beds.
Children today may have fancy electronic games and dolls with digital cards to make them talk, but in my day, we had trolls. We had trolls on top of our pencils, trolls on our notebooks, and hidden in our lunch boxes. We were in charge of creating their lives, the games they played and their vocabulary, which I remember was at about the intelligence of a five year old.
My husband and I will be moving this summer to a new home, so spring cleaning has taken on a different tone for us this year. Packing up what is needed and throwing out what is not is on a larger scale.
When my husband saw me gazing at my troll family, he said, “I guess it’s time to throw those out, huh?”
Horror struck. Throw out my trolls?
“Not on your life,” I said.
There are a few things I may not use daily, but they are still needed. Things like my grandmother’s mixing bowls, her set of sleigh bells, and my trolls.
People may wonder what great age trolls live to be. Mine are currently about 50 years old, and they haven’t changed a bit.