I was shocked and surprised last night when my lovely Hubby said from no-where that he wouldn’t mind taking me into Swansea (where he hates to go) if I wanted to go to the fabric shop Lee Mills. Now this store is packed full to the rafters with every kind of fabric in every colour and weight, bolts stacked up in racks and leaning against walls making narrow walkways and towering walls of treasure. Cris himself finds the place claustrophobic, but I just love it there. And I’m gonna make sure I take him up on his offer very soon so I can find myself some lovely fabrics for future dolls.
She wants a doll for every month of the year and I sort of got stuck on May and needed to catch up. May was difficult as Sarah asked me to make a peggy of her little baby Travis, who I’m sad to say I never met. The poor little boy passed away at 10 days old after a huge fight for his life. Leaving the family devastated with only a few photos to remember his short time with us by. As you can imagine the thought of making him as a peg doll filled me with dread and I had no idea where to start. I couldn’t leave him until later. That would just be putting it off and Sarah deserved for me not to do that. But where to start???
In the end I grabbed some fabrics and the doll with the gentlest expression I could manage and sat myself down promising not to move until he was dressed. And in the end he turned out to just happen by himself. Between us we choose a baby blue romper for him which I sewed form soft flannel and embroidered a start on the chest. Sarah chose soft blue marabou for his hair, cut short, and I added a pair of transparent cicada wings making him as an angel watching over his family. I’d like to try a bigger version of Travis so that I can add more details and include more memories.
I’m happy with them as long as Sarah is happy with them. And she says she is so that’s alright J
Thinking ahead to what’s to come I’ve also worked up a pair of drawers and a shift for a new large doll I’ve been thinking of for a long time.
This young lady is a widow in her weeds, but as her drawers are pink with fancy lace trim I’m not too sure she’s as innocent and chaste as she first appears.
She’s very worried about being buried alive (or maybe she just wants to make sure her husband in his grave is truly dead) as she stands next to the headstone in which she’s had set a grave bell. It’s a popular invention in her time, and made so that a rope is attached around the wrist of the dear departed so if they move the bell will ring. I mean, it’s not unheard of for people walking through graveyards to here the moans and knocking from new graves as the unfortunate woken corpse tries to call attention to his plight