The Amazing Nature Girl!

I can never decide whether to call myself a nudist or a naturist, but I am usually naked. We own thousands of acres of rolling pastures and deep woods, so I have lots of freedom these days. Most of our friends are women, and I don't bother to dress when they come over.

I have been to a couple of nudist resorts, but I did not feel that I fit in there. It may be hypocritical of me, but I don't particularly want to see other people naked. I'm fine with other women more-or-less my age, but I'm not into the "family nudism" experience with kids, old people and middle-aged dudes with pot bellies hanging out over their dongs.

So, I am content to "practice" my nudism amongst a small circle of friends, and most of the time I am just doing it alone -- just me and Nature. I love all the simple things like going outside in the morning with my tea and sitting in my favorite outdoor chair, and finding it wet with dew or last night's rainfall, and just sitting down in it, wet on my bare skin. When I get up, the water on my butt rolls in little streams down my legs, and it just gradually evaporates as I walk around outdoors.

I love being able to spend the entire day naked. Mona drives off to the city every morning, and I get to stay here on this beautiful little spot of the world - and unless I have errands to run, I can stay naked the whole time too. I work in my gardens and hike around in the woods -- sometimes wearing only sneakers, other times barefoot. I feel safe because our property is pretty inaccessible, so there's almost no chance that someone could wander through. Plus, I have my dogs, who can pretend to be vicious when they feel the situation warrants it. The only neighbors are our close friends (Mona arranged it that way), and their homes are on the property, so I can walk to their back doors without being seen from the road.

Late in the afternoon, I will shower and start dinner, and when Mona comes home, she will take me in her arms and kiss me as her hands glide all over me. This is another advantage of being naked: your partner can get quite intimate with you while you are just there in the kitchen getting dinner ready. And even if you have guests, your clever partner knows she can still sneak in a few quick touches right on target if she times it right.

Sometimes it is just the two of us for dinner, but quite often we do have company. Usually, it's our closest friends/neighbors, and of course, I am always naked with them. Mona and I are both pretty social, so we have lots of other friends, most of them female but with a few guys in the mix sometimes.

Although usually these gatherings are at our house, sometimes Jayne and Margot will host, and the mix of guests will be a little different, but Jayne is just as good as Mona at making sure her guests will be comfortable with me. She and I have known each other longer and we worked together as art models at the college. We are both also still active at our art and have lots of mutual friends among the local artists. When the party is at their house, Mona and I will walk down the long driveway together and the most I wear is usually sneakers and a hat.

Although I naturally prefer social gatherings at which I can be naked, there are also times when I am fully dressed like a normal, sane human being. That's what I do if someone is bringing their kids or elderly parents or the Queen of England. Heck, I know when to behave properly. However, if the group is all adults in our general age group but there are dudes or people I don't know well enough, then it's more of a judgment call.

A lot of it depends on where I am on my bipolar cycle because when I am grooving on mania, I have lots of confidence and will jump at the chance to be naked in front of new people. When I am feeling less confident, I might start out with shorts and a top so I have the option of ditching the top later (with a dress, it's all or nothing). And heck, going topless is fun all by itself.

Even as a kid, I remember the pre-sexual thrill of making a mad dash through the house before my bath. I was the youngest in a household of confident women -- four older sisters, my mom, my aunt, and sometimes my grandmother. And so, there really was never a time when someone told me I was too old to be running around naked.

It was a one-bathroom house, so we all saw each other naked pretty routinely with no hint of shame or embarrassment. You were only allowed to lock the bathroom door if you were pooping. Mere peeing did not warrant privacy, and if you were taking a bath, well, you might as well leave the door standing open because others would be in and out.

For my sisters, being naked was just a routine thing you did at certain practical times, mostly in the bathroom (though they did sunbathe out on the back porch roof), but for me it was a little thrill, and I was always ready to take the opportunity to do it. Like before or after my bath, not just when I was younger, but later on when I was feeling all those tantalizing new feelings of puberty. I would find some excuse to saunter downstairs, looking for a magazine to read in the tub or whatever. And if I could get myself distracted in conversation and stay downstairs naked for a while -- oooh that was fun. My sisters could tell I did that on purpose and would gently tease me about my nakedness -- and I totally ate that up.

We lived in a smallish town in the Great Lakes region, and even though it was just a regular city lot with other houses around, we did have a fair amount of outdoor privacy. Our house was at the top of a hill, and the way the garage, fence and trees were situated, one could step out the back door and into the yard without anyone seeing. Now and then I'd be the only one home, and I'd go outside naked just to feel it. I remember one such day when it was summer and drizzly rainy, and I stood in the misty rain letting my skin get wet, and I wanted SO badly to just walk down the driveway and down the street where everyone would see me. The image of myself naked in a normal public situation in which everyone else is clothed was what I imagined as I practiced my skills at the art of masturbation. Mom had told me all about my vagina and my ovaries and of course my period, but while she did mention the role of the clitoris, she really didn't do it justice. Zowee. I wanted to go ask my sisters, "Do you know about this? Do you realize what this DOES??" But I figured they probably did, and I didn't want to admit what I was doing with mine. It was a while before I masturbated all the way to climax and there was a period of time in which all I did was get myself excruciatingly horny and then find an excuse to go downstairs naked.

I had to be careful not to do that when my sisters' boyfriends were over, but if they just had girlfriends over I could get away with it and in fact it was even better because the teasing would be intensified and some pretty girl older than me would be watching me with a look of delight in her eyes as I pretended it was normal and got a coke out of the fridge or something. Of course I had no idea I was gay yet but I knew this was a thrill and a half, and it was right after one such experience that I pressed my button long enough to come and I remember laying there on my bed panting in the dark and thinking, "life is going to be fun."

As I got a little older, I didn't do that quite as much because there were boyfriends constantly in the house. I started having boyfriends too, and I frustrated the heck out of them because they could get me out of my clothes pretty quickly, but then I wouldn't have sex with them. I enjoyed kissing and getting my boobs fondled, but that's about as far as I let them go. I loved it that boys got turned on by my body, but I was satisfied with that. They weren't, of course, but that was just too bad for them.

Although everyone in our household joked about me being a nudist, they had no idea how right they were. They said that because of my famous little ventures downstairs, but those only lasted five or ten minutes at a time, and I only dared to do that once in a while. I craved SO much more than that. I wanted to do it every day, and basically all the time, not just a few minutes.

Eventually, all my sisters were in college or otherwise out of the house, so there was just me, Mom and Aunt Anna. Those two went everywhere together -- even to the grocery store or some little errand that one of them could have easily done alone -- so that's when I would have my opportunities. I particularly loved it when they went to the movies because then I would have a solid two hours.

One hot and humid afternoon, they were getting ready to go to a movie (making their own supply of "purse popcorn"), and I was itching for them to leave because it was about to rain and I wanted to be out in it.

After they finally left, I waited at least five minutes in case they forgot something and came back. Then I undressed and went out the back door just in time. I felt the first drops as I stepped out in the yard, and then the rain came down. It was my favorite kind of rain -- a steady shower with no wind or lightning.

I walked around the portion of the backyard that was private, which included our garden, so I found little tasks to do naked in the rain -- deadheading flowers and pulling weeds -- and then I just sat on one of the chaise lounges and reclined in the gentle rain.

Although I knew I had lots of time, I could only check the clock by peeking in the kitchen, so after a nice long while, I sauntered back to the porch and opened the door to see the smiling faces of Mom and Anna. They had changed their minds about the movie and had stopped at the grocery store instead. They'd been home for several minutes and saw me out there as they put away the groceries.

I started babbling something like, "I was just . . . I was just . . ."

"You were just enjoying the rain," Momma said as if everyone did this, "but while you're out there, please cut some basil for dinner. I'm making pesto." She held out the colander and kitchen shears, and with a wink of reassurance, sent me back out into the rain. When I got over the shock, I felt elated. I had been wanting to tell her about this, but I just hadn't -- and now it was out in the open and no big deal. I knew it would be no big deal to them. I happily did as I was told, cutting sections of basil and filling up the colander. When I went back inside, dripping wet and grinning, Momma sent me back out for tomatoes, and when I came back with those, Anna gave me the little kitchen waste bucket and sent me to dump it in the compost bin way at the back of the property.

I had performed that task many times before, though never naked, and I knew the additional steps. After dumping the bucket into the bin, I had to get the pitchfork from the shed and cover the new stuff with dead leaves from the other bin, then put the pitchfork back in the shed and carry the bucket to the garden hose to rinse it out, and since my bare feet were now muddy I had to spray them off with the hose too, then turn off the water and put the bucket upside down on the porch to dry out. During all of that, I got rained on, and it was now coming down twice as hard as before.

When I came back inside, rainwater still rolling off of me in sheets, Momma and Anna had evidently run out of outdoor chores to give me. Instead, I was pulled by the elbow to the kitchen counter, where my next assignment was to pull the leaves off the basil stems. I was giddy with gratitude and eager to go along with the sweet motherly game that this had become. We all grinned at each other without needing to discuss it. I was, of course, dripping wet so a puddle was forming under my feet. Momma got an old towel out of the rag drawer, and I thought she was giving it to me to dry off, but as I held out my hand, she tossed it on the floor by my feet and just told me to stand on it.

So I air dried as we made dinner together, and then we were setting the table. My dress was draped over one of the chairs, and I was dry enough to put it back on. I didn't want to, of course, but was mentally wrestling with the proper choice -- that maybe eating dinner naked would be carrying it too far. Anna, who was putting out fresh hand towels and gathering up the used ones, walked past my chair and collected my dress also. Then she casually took her pile to the hallway and dropped it all in the laundry hamper.

So after that day, I felt free to be nude around the house when Mom and Anna were home -- which was absolutely liberating. The only room I had to be careful about was the living room because it was in the front and had lots of windows. But the kitchen and family room were fine, and I could easily dash up the stairs if someone knocked on the front door. And whenever it rained, someone always came up with outdoor chores for me to do!

In preparing for college, I intentionally signed up for an all-girls dorm because I wanted the freedom to walk the halls naked. The school sent a roommate-compatibility questionnaire to incoming freshmen that covered topics like smoking and staying up late. But there was also a line for added comments. I considered writing "I am a nudist," but instead put "I sleep naked."

As it turned out, my roommate, Amanda (with whom I am still friends), did not get that warning but also did not mind. So I started out just sleeping nude, but I took my shower in the evenings (allegedly to make sure I got to my first class on time), and after my shower, there was no reason to get dressed an hour or two before bed.

Amanda and I were both pretty social and left our door open, so girls on the floor would pop in to chat, and I'd be at my desk naked. My next step was walking to and from the bathroom nude, but at first, this was just late in the evening for my shower and afterwards. So, of course, I gradually started taking my shower a little earlier each night.

I kept expecting someone to tell me it bothered them, but no one did. A few girls were a little standoffish at first, but I won them over. I am pretty good at making friends, in part because I am outgoing and can make people laugh, but also because I remember people's names, ask them about themselves, and remember what they tell me. So even girls who were initially cold would warm up when I asked how things were going with their special project or their sick pet back home.

Also, nobody thought I was a lesbian (not even me) so my nudity was not seen as some sexual come-on. After all, I had a boyfriend -- Jack -- with whom I was having a great time making out, making love, and talking til the sun came up. But I had my secrets.

One of my secrets was that it turned me on sexually to be seen naked by those other girls, especially when their teasing was pretend-flirtatious. I thought about it in terms of exhibitionism (though I hate that word). I liked going nude around other girls, I told myself, because it was a safe way to have that experience. I certainly was not going to do that in front of a bunch of dudes.

My other secret was that I loved other girls' bodies, most of which I only saw briefly in the showers. I was an artist and already modeling for art classes, so I told myself that the female form was simply more appealing than the male form. When I stole glances at other naked girls in the showers, I was just appreciating the beauty of the female body.

The only lesbians I was aware of on my floor were pretty far on the butch side. I was friends with those girls and liked to flirt with them, but I wasn't physically attracted to them. They assumed I was straight -- and so did I -- so the flirting only went so far.

Then I met Kelly. She didn't live on my floor, but sometimes passed through. I assumed she was visiting someone else, but it turned out she was cruising by to check out "the naked girl" she had heard about. Naturally, I was glad to stop and have hallway chats with her. Like lots of other girls, she teased me about my nudity in a flirty way, but there was something about how she looked at me that I liked.

I was definitely attracted to her, but in what I told myself was a friendship way, so I was always glad to bump into her. About the third time this happened, she said, "Oh I have a copy of that book you said you need -- c'mon down to my room."

So we walked down the stairway to her floor! And then wayyyy down the hallway past girls I didn't know. But they knew me, or at least knew of me, because I was "the naked girl." When we got to her room, Kelly made a show of looking, but gosh darn, she just couldn't find that book -- but would I care for some wine? We sat around drinking wine and sharing a joint, and I was thrilled because I was so far away from my clothes, expanding my naked zone.

A dance tune came on the radio, and we jumped up and danced, and I could see myself in her mirror. She said she was hot and pulled off her dress, and we danced naked together. And then . . . slow music. Our warm, damp bodies came together, our hands on each other's bare backs, our faces inches apart. Then we kissed. Then we were on her bed, our hands between each other's legs.

That happened near the end of the school year, and for a few weeks, I tried to live two lives, one of them still in love with Jack. I broke up with him just before the end of the semester and fled back home for the summer.

I hadn't done great in my classes that first year, but it wasn't because of my social life. My childhood ADHD had morphed into bipolar disorder, and I had as yet been diagnosed with neither. So, I had been having major mood swings that I blamed on my love life.

The next school year, I was with Kelly off and on, my heart aching each time I spotted Jack across campus. The college required freshmen and sophomores to live on campus, but the same-sex dorms were only for freshmen. Now, I was stuck in a co-ed dorm where my Naked Girl options were limited.

Partway through that year, I got acquainted with a couple of girls who were on the school volleyball team. They were both tall and muscular, and I swear I would have dumped Kelly in a heartbeat if either of those girls had been interested in me romantically. They lived in a sorority house favored by the school's lesbian athletes, and I started getting invited to their parties. They were like Amazons to me, and I had a crush on every single one of them!

The house itself was not huge, but they also had an enclosed private patio where much of the partying took place. I got to know all the residents of the house pretty well, and then, about a month into this, someone at one of the parties recognized me from the previous year and started telling everyone else I had been "the naked girl" of that dorm. This news was heartily cheered by the sorority sisters, who started asking why I wasn't being a naked girl for them too.

This blew my mind. It was a dream come true. Being nude around other girls already rang my bells, but these were the coolest, most physically desirable women at the whole school in my opinion, and they wanted to see me naked. I tried acting demure, but they just gave me more drinks and cajoled me until I was ready, which didn't take long. The Naked Girl was back!

For the rest of that school year, my social life was fabulous. But I was doing even worse in school, and the extremes of my depression and mania were getting worse. I was basically going crazy, but people just thought I was a wild party girl who disappeared for days at a time.

Most of my manic naked partying took place within the safe confines of the sorority house, but there were two girls in particular -- Kyle and JT -- who liked to talk me into getting naked in less secure environments. I can remember one time removing all my clothes in their car as we were driving on the highway in the middle of the night and literally throwing them out the window. I have no recollection of where we were going, but apparently, I arrived there nude.

Another time, we were sitting in a very dark bar in a secluded booth in a corner and they again talked me into taking off all of my clothes. It didn't require much convincing because I found it such a tantalizing idea. No one could see me back there in the dark, and my long hair covered most of what showed above the table.

But Kyle had put my clothes in her backpack and then suddenly they both said, "Well let's go," and jumped up and headed for the door. I ran after them naked past a bunch of surprised people in the bar (who cheered and applauded) and out into the street, where it was still blazingly daylight. Kyle and Jet ran to the car and seemed to be waiting for me, but when I caught up with them, they locked me out of the car and drove away! They stopped a little ways up the block, and I ran after them, and they zipped ahead again. Lots and lots of people saw this. Eventually, they let me in the back seat. I tried to stay mad at them, but it had been such a thrilling experience that I had to fake being mad. That night in my bed I relived that scene, dwelling on that lovely moment in the bar when everyone was applauding me, and in my fantasy the girls had driven away and I had to go back inside.

I dropped out of school after that year and was mostly a mess, but a wonderful thing happened. I went on a six-week trip to Key West with Jack and we were intimate again for that little while. But then our lives parted again, and things went downhill quickly for me. I wrecked my car and ended up in the psych ward, but that's where I was finally diagnosed with bipolar and got on medication. I was still living in the same college town, doing art, waitressing and posing for art classes. But then my brief romance with Claire took me to another college town (only about three hours away) where I did the same things (and also where I met Jayne). By this point, I had been on Depakote for a while, and my mood swings had evened out enough that I was able to get a real job doing graphic design.

My first grown-up job was a great place to work in terms of the camaraderie among the staff -- which was mostly female, including the owner/CEO. I found an odd little apartment nearby that I could afford. It was small and had various things wrong with it, but it had a large kitchen and a great third-story balcony that was private when the leaves were full. Being congenitally social, I quickly made friends with my co-workers (which included Dana and Andrea), and started having parties.

We were all in our early 20s and just trying to figure out how to be adults. Some combination of those girls would usually come to my apartment to party on Fridays right after work. Actually, we partied a lot of other nights too, but nearly always on Fridays because it was the tradition at our company to close up at 4:00 on Fridays. So right after work, everyone would come to my place. I would take a shower while the others would be in the kitchen, drinking and passing a joint and figuring out what they might cook with whatever they could find in my pantry and fridge.

After my shower, I would towel off, brush out my hair, and maybe put on makeup and jewelry if I was in the mood -- and go join the party naked. Everyone would applaud my entrance, but also treat it as normal. We would drink and talk and smoke weed and dance, and my near-constant nudity was just part of the group dynamic -- which is, of course, how I like things to be.

When I first started working there, Andrea and I had a brief sexual fling (yes, of course it was fabulous), but I knew she could not be a long-term partner because she said she never wanted to be burdened by what she called "the gulag" of parenthood, dragging your toddler around like a ball and chain clamped to your ankle. She had a flair for description but flunked my primary True Love screening question.

We stopped having sex after a couple weeks but remained close friends. She was a regular fixture at my parties, where I loved flirting with her and teasing her with my nudity. As she came to terms with the fact that she could no longer touch what I put on display, she decided to introduce me to a friend of hers. Andrea had known this particular friend since college and was aware that this friend had a keen interest in a certain type of girl -- a girl who liked to go naked.

Yes, dear reader, you are correct in guessing who I am talking about. When Andrea introduced us, Mona and I instantly became a couple -- and she started coming to those parties at my apartment where I would be nude. I told her she had to behave when other people were around, and she did, but she could not hide how turned on she was by the situation. It was cute, and when the party ended and everyone went home, Mona stayed over and slept in my bed. And I use the term "slept" in the vernacular that includes the kind of sleeping that can sometimes result in torn sheets and knocked-over bedside tables.

In between parties, Mona and I took turns sleeping in each other's beds. We were both naked a lot because we were constantly having sex. When we weren't having sex, she would sometimes put on clothes, but I never did. I would only get dressed when we went out, and as soon as we got back to her apartment or mine, I wanted those clothes off of me. But I didn't have to do anything about it because Mona would start undressing me. And she would do it so routinely, as if she were just helping me off with my coat. I loved that we didn't immediately have sex just because I was naked. We would make dinner together, have some wine, talk about whatever topic we had not yet explored with each other. And THEN we would have sex.

Not surprisingly, Mona quickly began suggesting that I also go naked around HER friends. I told her I was into the idea of doing that, but I wanted to get to know them better first -- which had already started happening because I had been going to watch Mona play in her various sports (which included softball, basketball and rugby). Many of the players were the same regardless of the sport. Andrea was on all of them.

So, within a month of our meeting, I had been to several of her games and practices and had gone out drinking with them afterwards. I liked seeing her within those groups, and I liked how she treated me within them. She was proud of me. I was totally her "hot girlfriend" and she clearly enjoyed showing me off. Mostly, these get-togethers were in bars so obviously I was clothed, but Mona told everyone about my tendency to be naked in certain social situations so people started lobbying to move our party venue to Mona's apartment.

Before that could happen, though, Mona and I had a break-up (which I have chronicled elsewhere). We got back together pretty quickly, but our reconciliation made a major change in our relationship. Even though she had dumped me, after our make-up, I trusted her more than before because I finally knew she was committed to me now.

The first time I went naked in front of Mona's sports team friends -- at a party in her apartment -- I felt absolutely in my element. It was women-only, plus they were all jocks and mostly lesbian jocks -- my favorite demographic. Also, these particular girls were seeing me nude for the first time, so it was all very tantalizing. I often tell people that being nude around others is more of a sensual than a sexual experience for me. That is sometimes true, but it depends on the group and there is nothing I like more than a room full of rowdy beer-drinking lesbians telling me I look great naked. So I was quite turned on, but of course, doing my best not to let on.

Mona had no such reservations and was literally bouncing in glee to have me naked within this group. She wanted to show me off because I was not simply her "hot girlfriend" anymore -- heck, anyone might have one of those. Now, I was her "hot nudist girlfriend."

To this day, there is nothing Mona seems to get more of a kick out of than introducing me to someone new while I am naked -- preferably in the middle of a party. And of course, I love that too, and I trust that super-planner Mona will never put me in a situation where I feel uncomfortable or unsafe -- and she never has. So whenever Mona has some new friend or some long-lost old friend she wants me to meet -- and sometimes this has involved one or more actual dude-type persons -- if she recommends that I stay naked, then I usually do, and it has invariably been a good experience.

Nowadays, all of our friends assume I will be naked when a gathering is at our house. Usually, this is just our closest buddies, but often it is a larger party. Mona loves to have her sports team pals over to watch Big Important Games on our gigantic TV. Often there are dudes at these parties so sometimes I start out wearing something but usually end up naked before long. If a party is at someone else's house, I (nearly) always start out wearing clothes and then see how it goes. If I am completely comfortable in the group, AND there is privacy from the neighbors, AND if every single member of that group encourages me to do so, then I can be talked into letting Mona stuff my clothes into her handbag for the rest of the evening. Once in a while, I arrive at a party nude, but usually I wear something for the ride over and leave it in the car. On rare occasions when our destination is nearby or I'm in a vehicle in which I can't easily be seen from outside, I like to leave the house naked and not even take any clothing with me. There's basically nothing more exciting to me than that, but I don't do it very often.

Life on 'The Estate'

When we reached the point in our relationship that we were ready to buy a house together, I was mainly just imagining a place with a private backyard where no one would see me frolicking in nature. Mona surprised me by taking me on a drive out into the country, where we met up with our Realtor to look at a property. There was a rundown old house down close to the road that I hoped wasn't the one she had in mind, and it wasn't.

We followed the winding driveway through some pines and up the hill to a second house, built in the 1940s. It had a big front porch and lots of charm. I fell in love with it immediately. When we went inside, the Realtor sort of apologized that the house had never been "updated," but I was glad of that. The big kitchen sink and tall glass-fronted cabinets were all just as they were when the house was built. There was only one bathroom -- which had a claw-foot tub and no shower.

Out on the front porch, the view was fantastic because the land slopes downhill towards a creek and wetlands. That part of the property is an open prairie where the farm fields used to be, so the view in that direction is unobstructed. I could see for miles.

The original farm itself was not huge -- a few hundred acres -- but the family also owned a bigger chunk of land that was mostly wooded. All together, I think the property is almost eight square miles -- and very secluded because most of it is bounded by an interstate highway that cut through a hill in a big curve.

The Realtor said we could buy however much of the total property we wanted, and Mona and I stepped aside to discuss it. As a potential buyer still negotiating, Mona probably hoped we could feign minimal interest to help get a lower price. But even though the Realtor could not hear our conversation, I have no poker face and probably looked like a girl being proposed to on the Jumbotron at the Super Bowl.

Mona will haggle sometimes, but when she decides she wants something, she is very decisive, and so she made a full-price offer on the spot for the entire property. It only took a couple weeks to go through all the inspections and legal stuff, and before I knew it we were moved in and unpacking boxes. I was giddy with happiness for all kinds of reasons, but ONE of them was that my lifelong obsession to be outdoors naked had suddenly been fulfilled!

We moved in on a Saturday, and I stayed naked all weekend except when we went out for dinner or to a store. On Sunday, we hiked all the way up the big hill, which turned out to be almost three miles. Mona wore shorts and a top while I was naked except for my hiking shoes, socks and a ball cap. At the very top of the hill, we came to a chain link fence, and through it we could see traffic on the highway far below. Looking across the highway, we could see a massive limestone wall, which was the other half of the hill.

The next day was Monday, and Mona went back to work, so I was alone on this gigantic property. I was mostly busy indoors because there was so much work to do cleaning, painting and getting all our stuff situated. But I could not resist being outside naked, so I put on my hiking shoes and set out to explore the Uncharted New Land. My valiant dogs, Cody and Max, accompanied me.

Yes, of course I got lost.

And no, I didn't take a water bottle because I didn't have any pockets.

But, as Lena Lamont would say, "I ain't stupid." Our entire property is a big hill, so I knew that if I got a little lost, I could simply go downhill.

That was true, of course, but I hadn't accounted for the fact that much of the land is wooded, and the ground rises unevenly, so it is not always clear from one's vantage point which way is downhill. If Cody and Max had been those TV hero dogs, they would have led me home. I'm sure THEY knew which way it was.

Even though I was momentarily lost, I was not worried -- in part because I was distracted by how thrilling it felt to be having that experience at all. Although I'd been naked in various situations before, I'd never done anything quite like this. Eventually, I started to see clues to the topography and found my way home (about an hour later than I'd planned).

Now, in fairness to Cody and Max, navigation is not their job. Their job, besides being my adorable companions, is to protect me. Had we encountered a trespassing human on that walk, my dogs would have been appropriately aggressive and badass. We did not encounter anyone, nor in all the time since then have we ever seen any sign that someone had been on our property. Most of our land is bounded by the tall limestone wall where the highway cut was made or by a steep ravine going down to the creek. Unless you are a rock climber, the only way to access the property is the driveway next to the old house by the road. Within a week of our move-in, Mona had a security fencing company install a formidable metal gate that you need a keycode to open, so we are pretty well fortified.

The first time we had our closest friends over to our new house, Margot and Jayne expressed interest in the Victorian house by the road. It needed a lot of work, but was structurally sound. Mona sold it to them for one dollar so they could focus their financial resources on renovation.

The only other building on the property was a little A-frame cottage way up in the woods. Jack lives there now whenever he is visiting. And as I write this, Mona has sold another parcel down near the road to Andrea and Dana, who are going to build.

So now we have our own private little commune, and all of the people living in it are close friends who completely accept me as I am by nature -- which is usually naked and occasionally crazy. It is a gift, and although I thank God for Her part in it, this was mostly Mona's work -- and I will always be thankful for her.