Covid Journal, Day 333: Waiting for the Storm

28 again this morning, cloudy, with an icy rain. Rain at 28F? Apparently so, even though the temperature is below freezing.

We're in wait mode now, as the storm approaches us from the southwest. This is a rare direction for us in winter, although it happens often enough in summer. I am so sorry for all of you in Texas, Arkansas and other states that are currently feeling the effects of this storm. Our turn is coming, although it may be ice and not snow here.

So while we wait, there is this lady in the living room who is seriously under-dressed for wintry weather.

I acquired the dress form a few weeks ago, and have put it to work to model for eBay listings. I detest listing clothing, but silly me bought some things a few years ago that have been hanging in my workroom, waiting for me to bite the bullet. Now that I have this dress form, I have absolutely no excuse not to list them. Except that I hate doing it. Clothing requires such care, examining closely for even the smallest damage, cleaning, measuring...the list goes on and on, Measuring is a particularly onerous task--across the shoulders, across the chest, waist, hips. Length of sleeves, length from shoulder to hem, and waist to hem. I don't necessarily have to do all of those for every piece, but each requires at least 3 measurements. And then there are buyers who ask for measurements I'd never have thought of.

So today I have been listing vintage nightgowns and negligee sets. They sell well, which is the only up side to this--and I've told Larry to drag me right out of a story if I look like I'm considering buying any more of them. Still, I've sold fur and faux fur coats this winter, along with a variety of jackets. And already 3 or 4 of the gowns and bed jackets have sold. So I should quit bellyaching and get on with it.

That's really all that's on my plate for today. I need to get back to my tax returns, and that will probably be tomorrow's work. Larry on the other hand has been busy as can be, which always means he's happy. The man loves to work, especially outside, even in bad weather. Today he did his usual outdoor rounds--starting the vehicles and  cleaning ice off them and the steps to the house, caring for the chickens and pets, getting wood for tonight's fire. Then he tackled the dryer. We've had so much trouble with dust, and it can only be the dryer. So he cleaned out the long vent line, and let's hope that solved the problem.

I finished the BBC series I've been watching, The House of Eliott. It was excellent--and so disappointing in that the series was never finished, and so we are left with several cliffhangers in the last episode. It wasn't lack of viewership that canceled the series, but the fact that the sets were destroyed in a fire and replacing them was prohibitively expensive. It's just a shame, as the series covered the fascinating world of high fashion and haute couture. The costumes were gorgeous, the storylines compelling, and the acting top-rate. I will have to buy the book on which the series was based, I suppose, to find out how it all ended. I do recommend it, though, as long as you know up front that it's not a finished story. The book, by the way, is by Jean Marsh.

I also finished my last Maeve Binchy book, A Week in Winter, and tried and failed to get interested in the book about Tuscany and another title, A Walk on the Beach, which was another nonfiction personal narrative that seemed just too...I don't know, too full of wise life lessons? At my age I'm pretty good with life lessons,having had rather too many myself, and am not seeking inner wisdom from someone else's experiences. That sounds wrong, but I'm not sure how to say it better. So I have settled into a Mary Stewart omnibus of 4 novels. I read Mary Stewart in the 60's and 70's and it's fun to re-visit these stories. Her writing is superb, although the story is a bit on the predictable side. I've started in with The Moonspinners; the title is based on an old Greek myth of the naiads. Here is an excerpt from the book that explains:

‘Moonspinners. They’re naiads — you know, water-nymphs. Sometimes, when you’re deep in the countryside, you meet three girls, walking along the hill tracks in the dusk, spinning. They each have a spindle, and onto these they are spinning their wool, milk-white, like the moonlight. In fact, it is the moonlight, the moon itself, which is why they don’t carry a distaff. They’re not Fates, or anything terrible; they don’t affect the lives of men; all they have to do is to see that the world gets its hours of darkness, and they do this by spinning the moon down out of the sky. Night after night, you can see the moon getting less and less, the ball of light waning, while it grows on the spindles of the maidens. Then, at length, the moon is gone, and the world has darkness, and rest, and the creatures of the hillsides are safe from the hunter and the tides are still . . .’

‘Then, on the darkest night, the maidens take their spindles down to the sea, to wash their wool. And the wool slips from the spindles, into the water, and unravels in long ripples of light from the shore to the horizon, and there is the moon again, rising from the sea, just a thin curved thread, reappearing in the sky. Only when all the wool is washed, and wound again into a white ball in the sky, can the moonspinners start their work once more, to make the night safe for hunted things . . .’

There is magic in these words, isn't there? Such an interesting legend. Yet, I can find no mention in my quick research of naiads spinning anything, let alone the moon. They were river nymphs and there were many of them, but spinners of the moon? I wonder where Mary Stewart came upon this myth, or if she simply spun it herself to weave into her story? I'll keep digging, though, because it just fascinates me. And I don't mind if it was after all just Stewart's imagination. 

Off to cook dinner tonight, a simple task since it will be last night's leftover pasta, green beans, and rolls.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.