Wow! This has been the longest time without a post ever.
We’re all right, just in a busy energy consuming time. Closing the BnB and accommodating a new renter instead. We put a stucco finish on the front porch and the sauna.
Stucco Party
We have been in the garden, and also doing a bunch of rearranging. You know, new rugs and more new coming in and old stuff out.
The next couple of posts have been in the works, but they are linked and must be written and sorted out at the same time, which requires a couple of solid free days to sit down, write, choose pics, etc. without distractions. It’s coming, it’s a priority, it’s partially done.
Asking the garden, “What’s for breakfast?”
Jbee and DF
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
I once had a conversation with an ex-forest Service member that I was dating. She told me how back in the day, when working in groups in the wilderness for days at a time, she and her cohorts, had had a skinnydip. They had become less formal, had developed trust. She related how she and others had ended up walking for miles and days, happily and practically, attired nude. No problem was seen, by this.
I have also had conversations with passing forest workers, when myself and companion were nude. It happens. It is natural. Many apparently innately understand nature and naturism’s bonds.
They go hand in hand. It’s natural. Edward Abbey relates. Here is an excerpt form his book, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness: A Celebration of the Beauty of Living in a Harsh and Hostile Land.
He has a day off from the Forest Service and has climbed from the Utah desert into the high snowcaps:
“The wind stops, completely, as I finish my lunch. I strip and lie back in the sun, high on Tukuhnkivats, with nothing between me and the universe but my thoughts. Deliberately I compose my mind, quieting the febrile buzzing of the cells and circuits, and strive to open my consciousness directly, nakedly to the cosmos. Under the influence of cosmic rays I try for cosmic intuitions—and end up earthbound as always, with a vision not of the universal but of a small and mortal particular, unique and disparate. . . her smile, her eyes in firelight, her touch.
Well, let it be. You’ll find no deep thinkers at 13,000 ft. anyway. The wind comes up again, I get to my feet and dance along the cornice of a snowbank that hangs above the void. Down there in the forest, somewhere, my camp, my old truck, my fireplace—home. I look for a quick and easy way to return,
The climb up from timberline had taken about two hours. Looking down at the graceful curve of the thousand-foot snowfield it seems that the descent should not require more than five minutes. I put on my clothes, shoulder the rucksack and work down over the rock to the couloir and the upper end of the slide.”
We naked people are not alone. Everyone is a naturist, they just don’t all know it…yet.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
Our cultures teach in overt and subtle ways. The lessons learned don’t always serve us well. It can be difficult to escape the ingrained. Perhaps you’ll find this relatable.
I grew up being taught that unclothed was sexually stimulating. I grew up being taught that my casual nudity as a child was insignificant, but not wearing clothing was naughty. I was taught that we must conform to social norms, which were even more extreme back then. Women were wearing white gloves and males of all ages were in suit and tie. All were acting a part, when shopping and even visiting in each other’s homes.
It was naughty to be naked when the parents weren’t watching. It was liberating and titillating. By the time that I no longer needed a babysitter, feeling secretly naked was done doing cartwheels.
Images of forbidden nudity increased its sexuality, yet living in Paris, with its art, or Follie Berger, I was receiving an incongruent message.
The Free Range Naturist 