Moth-eaten

I have finally learned the meaning of the adjective 'moth-eaten'. That was always a word used in literature to describe some crusty old character who hadn't bathed in a while, or perhaps a shabby piece of ancient drapery. It certainly didn't seem to apply to anything in my life.

'Mothballs' were strange-smelling fuzzy things placed in drawers and chests that featured in novels and fantasy tales like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I always pictured them looking like grey cotton balls. Actually I still don't know what they really look like, since I haven't been able to find a place in Oban that sells them, yet.

Moths have been eating our socks, and hopefully they haven't gone on to our nice wool sweaters. It might not seem like a big deal when you rummage through your pile of socks and a few tiny moths flutter out. But wow, those caterpillars can chew! I was amazed to find some large, round holes in socks that were otherwise in perfect condition.

The moths are very small; it seems impossible for the presumably also tiny caterpillars to eat such big holes in a sock. But they do. I don't know the habits of these caterpillars and what living conditions they prefer. Will they eat clothing that's hanging on a hanger? Will they eat our shirts and trousers if we wear them regularly? How long do they take to set up home in our woolens?

Apparently, I've heard, washing doesn't get rid of their eggs in clothing. You have to freeze the infested item for a few weeks, or microwave it or something. This is just hearsay; I haven't researched this.

After discovering that all my clothes were covered in colonies of tiny white mites, I've been trying to keep the infestations at bay. It's difficult though, in an old house like this. Mold grows on every available surface, such as walls, furniture and items left on the floor too long. We catch mice regularly under the cupboards in the kitchen. Moths make snacks of our clothes.

It is a good reminder, living in this climate where everything rots if left alone, that things themselves are ephemeral, temporary. Our existence is fleeting; the material objects we surround ourselves with are mortal along with us. Everything will decay and disintegrate eventually, even our cherished rock collections.

But things like books, clothes, letters, photos and furniture can almost rot before our eyes. Back in Oregon I lost a box full of cherished books--stored ill-advisedly in the basement--to virulent green mold. Here in Scotland, our clothes grow mold sitting on the shelf in the closet if they're not worn for a while.

It works wonders to keep us from accumulating too much stuff--the knowledge that if we're not using it regularly, it's going to be eaten by something.