Author Archives: lasthouseob1

My Private Place for Naturism #26


I slip on five toe shoes and walk out the front door of my home. It is getting cooler from an unseasonably warm Fall. There is just a slight awakening chill here on the shady side of my house, not uncomfortable, but just enough to tell me that I’m naked all over in the air, in a natural way.

I emerge into the bright sun and immediately feel its heating effect on the right side on my body and back. From that, I know that I’m walking northwest, and it is around 3:00 by the position of the sun. These wonderful warm days will be replaced by cooler temperatures of winter soon. The winter is long overdue. I’m thinking that I’m going to make the most of this stroll in the desert, as I turn north, away from homes and into pristine nature.

Nudity brings an intense awareness to me. The nude body is very wise. I discover the anticipation of something sharp. The intimate and gigantic knowledge that we apply to the act of walking through, or around, a scratchy prickery bush is an amazing act. We know just how much we can allow the bush to touch us, before it leaves a mark or blood. As in slow motion, I step through something and can compensate and protect myself in less than a conscious instant. I naturally react before I am able to think it through. Action is automatic and I can only observe the miracle of it.

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Some Change

Packin’ Ma Bags, Heading to the….

As I mentioned before, we have four or five springtime adventures, several shorts and articles to finish up. We have a four year anniversary in July and some unpublished stories out of the past that need reworked.

For four years, I’ve managed to consistently get out something every week. For the next weeks, I’ll make the attempt, but there is no guarantee that publication timing will not get erratic.

My house is finally selling, I’m moving after 20 years of accumulation. I’m beginning a transition into a whole new situation. I’ve become very busy, suddenly.

We had planned a couple of days here and there (all work and no play makes….), but DF has broken her toe and will be off uneven surfaces, like the trails, for a few weeks. Maybe, we could car camp and….

Oh well, this will pass. I love doing this website. Maybe I’ll shove it all into a locker and just take off at the end of escrow. Life will be open ended and at my whim.

So bare/bear with, for now.

You can get notification upon each new post, if you become a follower. I won’t spam. If I get behind, there are something like 242 previous posts, most will read like new.

Thank-you all,

Jbee and DF

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Seeing with the Skin

2010 During Monsoon


I got home from shopping in the city last night about midnight. After the dog walk; I wanted to inspect what changes that evening’s violent rain storm had given us. I left my clothes inside of the house.

I enjoy the looking for evidence of how much rain we had, like tiny streams where water had flowed, standing water, or measuring how much ponding occurs in particular areas (natural rain gages). I discover washed away tracks now turned virgin terrain, as if no one had stepped foot there before.

I looked up at the exceptionally clear sky, rinsed of dust and polluting particles. There, thousands of stars peaked out between the clouds that were subtly lit by the light from the city of Tucson. The clouds hardly moved as they sat seemingly comfortably.

I listened to the crunch of the sands beneath my feet, then a quail shuffled in the bushes.

The air felt so much more humid than what had been the norm these past few months and seemed more stagnant this evening. It was thicker and clinging to me more like a friendly blanket on my naked skin.

As I rounded the big mesquite tree “island of life” that my driveway bends around, the air was cooler. A few paces more and it warmed again. I back-tracked and experienced the cool again and stood there a moment or two. It felt refreshing.

I moved just enough to map where the transition was and explore just how abrupt that was. Was it like two sacks or balloons one cool and one warm next to each other. Was it like stepping into a pool of cool water on a warm day with a definite line of transition, or a slower transition, a kind of grey zone? I couldn’t find myself in a situation where one side of my body was warmed and one cooled, so I suspect there was a foot or two of grey. Maybe, I disturbed it, like breaking a bubble.

This air wasn’t moving much like a current. I looked up at the rock ridge and terrain for evidence of the stream that this cool may have traveled down. Cool air is heavier and flows in and above the grooves, but there was none.

I walked toward the mesquite island. The branches create a haven for other life, both plant and animal. A huge bush, it’s like a mother spreading her arms to protect. This has the effect of a cooler place. I’ve felt this when the breeze blows through these life islands and cool air rushes out like an evaporative cooler. This cool spot wasn’t attached to the island.

It dawned on me that this bubble of cool may have been caused by my going down the driveway slowly in my car, creating turbulence and separating it in the otherwise calm thick air. In my mind’s eye, I can imagine this huge bubble wobbling like jello as it bounces over the front of my car like some sort of invisible roadside casualty and sinking back to earth encased with the warm air. Could it be?

Wow, there’s a whole new world to explore by simply seeing with my skin. I’ve decided to make a frequent practice of walking naked through this spot in the evenings as temporary conditions change and vary.

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Miniature Golf

Spring 2019


Saturday night is the annual Piano Burn. A friend of ours has a huge pit in the desert outside of Tucson. Burners gather each year to set fire to a stack of collected pianos, all of which are too far gone to keep. This year, we also enjoy around 100 dry Xmas trees, and 60 pallets. They are looped around in a conch-like circling. A surfer rock band will be assembled to set the perfect tone as we munch, drink, dance, remark on burns past, and party. But first….

Up the hill in the intentional community, DF and I have an appointment with The Turtle, our friend’s oddly shaped sauna sweat. We arrive about 4pm to find it already warmed and cooking. We eagerly strip immediately while saying our hellos to friends, old and brand new. We grab a towel each to sit on and we enter.

It is a wonderful detox. A new rig in the pipes holds the heat in, much more efficiently than before. We take top seats and begin to howl in the echo of the carefully worked out acoustic bubbles of ferro cement. We stretch and pull our muscles by feel and conscious yoga moves. We get out, enjoy a bit of potluck dinner, sit in the sun and a light breeze and then return.

It is a fine place to be naked. The soft sandy soil has little vegetation. Prickers are few. We can wander barefoot all over and we do. We inspect the new restrooms being constructed of rammed earth. We take a stroll in the desert, and back.

There is a crop of odd plants out back. We inspect what is identified as a field of tall onions, but have another discovery on the way. It is “A Whole in Oneness.”

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Yellow Time: New Tortolita Territory


I found that my calendar was filled with an abundance of “ME” time. DF went to Morocco with her women’s group for a couple of weeks.

Camels on the Beach: DF on the Lead

I quickly got into the business of a detox fast. I took care of myself, exercised moderately and studied on how to do that.

One day, I wandered out and found myself at the door of an old friend that I used to work with. He has several acres about a mile and a half a mile from me.

As we caught up, he began to show me around his property. I realized that I had never seen the acreage. Upon my request, he took me on a full tour of his desert twenty, or so, acres. The main wash rolls through the property on the hidden side of the hills, which you don’t see from the south face, where he lives. It is covered with the usual mesquite and grasses. It is the stealth route that DF and I have used to access a tall waterfall through the Stone Canyon Golf Course and residential area. The gated community sprung up blocking my old bike path to the waterfall, but that is another story.

What I didn’t realize is that there is a tributary, which intersects there and his property is backed against State Trust Land. He also offered me the run of the place, anytime.

After the visit, I got on line and investigated the area with Google Maps. I followed the brown strip of sand up and into the mountains. Several spots with large bedrock sheets can be seen. Mesquite trees line the natural path. There are million dollar homes on the border of the public lands, but apparently there is a dip into the wash, which creates a view buffer and the distance is far enough to not be seen. At this point, I have decided to hold off until DF‘s return, but I’m chomping at the bit to get out there and explore.

My Front Drive in Bloom

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Body Rights/Spiritual Rights


Forests are made for weary men,

That they may find their soul again.

And little leaves are hung on trees

To whisper of old memories.

And trails with cedar shadows black

Are placed there just to lead men back

Past all the pitfalls of success

To boyhoods faith and happiness.

Far from the city’s craft and fraud,

O Forest, lead me back to God!

—Mary Carolyn Davies

There are thousands of poems that rejoice the spiritual quality of nature. Vistas of snow-capped mountains, flowing rivers, dark forests and golden plains inspire awe and stir spiritual feelings in the human soul. The scent of a flower, thick green grass, or the touch of the waters of a cool lake impart wonderment and sensuality.The infinite roof of stars and clouded skies elicit human writing that extols their beauty from authors of every nation and creed.

Authors and readers the world over appreciate the sensual spirituality of the natural world. It is a sacred dimension that can be felt by everyone. It allows a soul to respond to the natural world, from a child wishing on a star, to old age.

Nature brings us closer to a sense of an immaterial reality, a higher power, an integral oneness in nature that connects its myriad forms with us – if we care to let it.  From the earliest roots of mankind, when perhaps forces of nature were closer to our existence and perception, we have known this spirit and this transcendental oneness. It can be simply by our senses interfacing with the experience of nature.

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Sweating Russian Style


We have mentioned our sweat before. It is a wonderful way to bond with friends and create nude community. We have described it to be as a spiritual exercise, but it is more. It is very healthy.

There is science to sauna and arts. Making something better and better is the science of sauna. Procedures evolve. When sitting around enthusiastic about something, it is difficult to not look for ways to improve the system. Questions come up and experiments are done. One decides where to sit, close to the heater, or higher where the air is more hot, or lower and stay in longer where it isn’t quite so extremely hot. Questions arrive like how much water to put on the stones for steam, when to scrape the toxins that come from the body, to sit, to lay down, to get up and move. These creative concerns can evolve into tools and design.

Self Styled Veniki Dance

Last Sunday we hosted a sweat. Several friends came and shared. A younger couple arrived, then a much older friend. We got started sweating and sat conversing from, “How ya doin” to Amazonian Anacondas. After a while, another couple arrived and then a late thirties mom showed up with two of her cool kids, which are something like eight and ten. With DF and myself, there were ten of us participating.

Russian people have bathhouses ingrained into their culture. One of us grew up around Russian saunas. He loves to spend time in insane heat. One day, we managed to get the thermometer up to over 212F. When it passed the red bar, we had to take more frequent breaks. I was trying to understand why my body didn’t just boil over, like a kettle on a stove, or a boiled egg. He has described big city Russian public saunas with walls of heat, their customs and how they are used. Continue reading

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WNGD 2019


This year on World Naked Gardening Day (WNGD) we had no veggie garden. I’m selling my house and I figured that I’d be gone for the harvest.

There is a bumper crop of mustard, nearly waist high in DF’s yard. It had sprung up just as she was preparing to leave for Morocco with her women’s group. It all dried well under the Arizona sun while she was gone. The result was a mess. The thick stems have to be ripped up by the root by hand, or else they leave a yard full of daggers for bare feet. The task looked daunting.

There had been frost damage to her potted plants earlier this year. These had to be replaced. So, we had gardening to do. Not the typical green veggies, but we could celebrate WNGD.

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Miller Peak IV: Heading Home


We are in the Huachuca Mountains. We have spent a couple of days here and accomplished our climb to Miller Peak. We have a casual day planned, heading back down the mountain.

Here is the rest of the story, which is in three other parts:

DF has heard an owl in the night. She tells me that she is grateful that it came. She says that it felt big. It had a big sound, “I’m here. Anybody else here? Who, who?”

After my climb out of the tent, I stand stiffly and take in the wilderness. These trees all tell a story; it is their history they speak of. It is like a mother’s stretchmarks or an old soldier’s wounds. These are tangled, bent, burled and shaped by their lives. The rings have a tale, too. There is an old hulk with a twisted trunk near the watercourse. The twist says that it had had a ley energy shape it. When the fires came, they burnt it to be like a barber pole.

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Miller Peak: Ascent to a Parting: Day 2


Morning, day number two in the Huachuca Mountains. We have a personal story to share with you….

The two Previous Parts can be found here:

As the Day Began:

Birds are up and moving about with their new day. I hear the sound of DF rhythmically pounding her down jacket. She is waking with her chi gung, slapping her body into action. Sun beams are all around, but the tent is in shade. Sun and shade are as different as night and day. I roll over and through the net right next to me, like bed fellows, are yellow daisies and green tall grass. I greet them good morning.

Remember, that you can click any image to enlarge and enhance it.

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