Yesterday,
while clearing out the Library which we use as a dumping site for all the overflow
of our house, Payson discovered that the rugs we had folded up and shoved into
a closet were coated with moth larvae that had eaten up large chunks of the wool
pile. They were so many that they had changed the design and landscape of the rugs,
which now had white dashes on their designs and bald patches on them where they
had consumed an entire area of pile.
It
was upsetting. These wonderful, expensive, hand-knotted, woolen rugs dyed in
vegetable dyes had to be thrown out. I dare not take them back into the house
from where they lay scattered in the sunlight, pupating, and hatching
prematurely in the sunlight and heat. Last week I had discovered my favorite
black Cashmere sweater had ten large holes in it. Now I had discovered the
source of the damage, and I was going to get rid of it.
Like the moth's metamorphosis....everything transforms....what speaks from the pictures when we were young is a different energy, a different time. It's all good, moving along the mysterious path to the Horizon. And if we're lucky, we gain some wisdom along the way that leave their mark on a wizened visage that has the power that youth can't have or understand. We can only give thanks!
ReplyDeleteLike the moth's metamorphosis....everything transforms....what speaks from the pictures when we were young is a different energy, a different time. It's all good, moving along the mysterious path to the Horizon. And if we're lucky, we gain some wisdom along the way that leave their mark on a wizened visage that has the power that youth can't have or understand. We can only give thanks!
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