The weather has been beautiful recently, which means I am now entering my phase of missing working outdoors 40 hours a week.  Yes, it can be miserable (see: Virginia Summer) but Springtime and Fall are bliss. 

 Today was a beautiful day in DC, and as I walked to nearby family's house (right near work!) I realized how perfect for walking the weather was.  A lovely 60°, crisp enough to offset the heat from walking, and sunny.   So as a result, I started of thinking back to working at Williamsburg.  Even though the lovely weather is what you look forward to, it's the dreadful weather that you remember. 

I talked to Amy today about the day we worked during Tropical Storm Ernesto, and of course she remembers the whole day.  We spent most of it together, huddled underneath cloaks, trying to avoid puddles (and failing), making our way down the Duke of Gloucester street towards the shops where we were assigned that day.   Meanwhile, tree branches were falling around us. 

We made it to the Wig Shop, where I was assigned, and I realized quite quickly I was soaked through, and so took of layer upon layer until I was barefoot, wearing my chemise, stays, and bed gown.  

To those not intimately familiar with Early American Textiles, I was wearing a knee length cotton nightgown, a fully-boned corset ("stays"), and a woolen knee-length wrapper that vaguely resembles a bathrobe.  Colonially naked.  

All of my clothing at this point was strewn across the shop, along various ropes, as I lamented being chosen for the one shop that had a fireplace that didn't draw. 

Needless to say, it was a rather uneventful day for guests (total: 13) but we interpreters had fun.  The electricity went off, and we didn't realize it until a few hours later, and I trekked across the river that Duke of Gloucester had become to peek in the Millinery shop, and managed to find not only a fireplace, but soup and hot chocolate that they had heated up in the fireplace.  I watched my shoes steam slightly as they became slowly less damp, and wiggled my toes in my wet stocking feet while I sipped my soup. 

It sounds miserable, but I don't remember that.   It's filed under other outdoors days, full of fresh rainstorms, cool breezes, and blissful sunny days.  

1 comment:

Anne Hummel said...

I loved your post (especially your newly coined term, "colonially naked"). I'm reminded of gramps' comment about Rula. He said she only remembered the sunny times. Not a reference to weather, but to remembering the lovely joyous things in life...