How do silicate particles affect skeins of wool?

While the silicate-laden ash and smoke of Eyjafjallajökull are wreaking havoc in the air lanes of the Northern/Western hemisphere, the moths have struck again here at the farm.
Hannah Q. is stranded in Oslo with the boyfriend she just definitely broken up with- she was looking forward to placing an ocean between them; Dougal M. unable to make it to his great-aunt’s funeral in the Scottish highlands and will miss out on the ceremonial passing down of the family kilt. While the dreaded Tineola bisselliella were laying their nasty little eggs, our dear friend Ned thought his flight to Ireland - for a long anticipated golfing trip with his cronies - would be cancelled. But his flight was not cancelled. He is safely in Ireland now, alone. After Ned’s plane landed, all the airports in Ireland and the UK were closed once again, and his five friends are left fondling their five irons in New Canaan and drinking imported Guinness. While the voracious larvae were chewing our textiles, Madame Gabrielle Bonfoy is stuck in Brussels and wonders whether her one and only will wait. Having just discovered the great love of her youth via Facebook, they had planned a reunion in Hanoi. He is already in Hanoi watching Pay-Per-View in his hotel, and Gabrielle considers the frites of Brussels no consolation. They are both 65 years old, and while not exactly ancient, they are not inclined to delay the long-awaited consummation of their hitherto thwarted passion.

I wish I didn’t take attack of the moths so personally. But I take it very personally, entirely personally. Either it is a personal affront on me and the cleanliness of our abode; or else it is a reflection of the care I take of our woolens. Either way, I have been terribly remiss. This time the target was the two hangings from Bolivia, here in the little room where I frequently sit and stare at them, obviously not seeing the degradation, the disintegration and the enlarging holes. What kind of person can look at a beautiful woven hanging from the highlands of Bolivia as it positively vibrates with the chewing of those horrid & hungry Lepidoptera, and not notice? An inattentive and distracted person. A person in need of Remedial Home Ec.
It took a visit from CSB – on a brief break from his construction of Chicken Manor - to notice. Only then did we take down the hangings and rush them to the freezer.
But now I am worried about the gazillions of skeins of yarn stored in the window seat, upon which I seat.
I will deal with them tomorrow, while the terns and puffins of the North Atlantic enjoy uninterrupted flights through empty air.