Guess what, I fought the moths, and the the moths won.
Wool is superb, wool is warm, wool is a hug, it’s biodegradable, it’s breathable. I could write a sonnet about how great wool is, unfortunately I’m not the only one that thinks so. It’s the moths, “ “the moths,” she laments, they must have found their way to my parents house somehow, made themselves at home nestled amongst my dad’s woolen jumpers. No longer professional enough to wear to work my dad passed them along to me, and what was I to do except mend, blend, and wear them myself.
I love these jumpers, I’d say I wear one 200 days of the year, chilly evening in summer, chilly nights in winter, and everywhere in between. Every single hole is hand darned, some of the elbows reinforced with sewing, or crochet, anything to let the jumpers live on. Now each one has so much more story to tell, and every now and then I find another hole to fix. I do wonder what I’ll do when they become too thin to wear usefully.