Naked in the Rain and Fog

I so love to play naked in the fog and rain. Fog and rain where I live and do much of my playing in the Northeast USA can be soft, warm and inviting as often as it can be hard, cold, and bone crushing. Either way, our naked bodies can not only tolerate and adapt to it for a time, our bodies and our souls rejoice in it. I freehike and nude backpack on the trails in our National forests and in other suitable places whenever I can find some spare time to do so. Thus I have been "caught" suitably attired in the rain in the past on more then one occasion, and carry with me numerous fond memories from those experiences.

I have jumped into discussions recently on two other forum in which we have been discussing the many pleasures to be found in playing naked in the rain and fog. I and others in some of my circles are convinced that there is something primal at work here. Should I encounter such conditions, I would jump at any such opportunity for a unique and unmatched kind of primitive enjoyment, tossing my clothes off in mid-air as I took the leap, like our little friend Calvin if I could. The same urge hits me whenever I encounter a nice big stretch of freshly rain softened, squishy mud.

Yet most of us myself included, have been conditioned from early-on to seek shelter by strong negative experiences that we have endured when caught in the rain in the clothes that our parents put on us. How sad though not pointing any fingers or holding any grudges. Unfortunately, most of our everyday clothes are made almost entirely of cotton. Blue jeans, flannel skirts, shirts, blouses, socks, tees, beaters, and skivvies are the worst offenders. Wrapped in those things and caught in the rain, we immediately get soggy, clammy, and if we wait long enough, terribly cold, possibly dangerously so if we are exposed to high winds as well. At the other end of the spectrum, who among us doesn't remember trudging to school melting under an impervious yellow rain slicker on a humid rainy day in late September while rivers of cold rain ran off its bottom skirt and saturated our knees ankles and feet under our clothes, our socks, our shoes. Like Ivan Pavlov's dogs, we got the message very quickly: rain equals misery. It takes us so long to unlearn these things sometimes. However, our kid instinct is never lost entirely, and repeated misery is enough to drive one to leave ones clothes behind for good. Do you suppose that has happened to any of us here?

So today I was working in a field house on a tech crew at one of the well known universities here in the Boston area, doing the rigging for and erecting the large scale sound, lighting and video systems for their upcoming commencement activities a week away. That is what I do for amusement when I must be textile. We had just wrapped for the day around 6pm. As I was walking toward the open door of the loading dock and was heading for my car, the skies outside tore open with a few rumbles of thunder and sheets of rain surging in waves across the parking lot. I could see and hear this from the door way. All I could do at that moment was stand and watch in despair. I suppose that one could say that I was half secretly naked, wearing only a cotton camo kilt, and a beater, cotton of course and my VFFs. I was already cold, just looking at the pounding rain and feeling the damp blow in. My inner instinct knows what is right in such situations and I know from experience how well it all works…I just wanted so badly to drop all of my clothes on the spot and dash outside naked, dance in the rain, and roll in the mud. Of course, under the circumstances I had to restrain myself. Like any self respecting textile, I just stood and waited it out before proceeding to my car, all the while feeling as if I was being robbed at gun point of something huge and wonderful. Rest assured, the clothes were beside me in a heap on the floor of the car as soon as I made it into the car. Oh well. No hard feelings. One just has to accept these things. There will be another time.

Stay naked in the rain.


6 thoughts on “Naked in the Rain and Fog”

  1. I remember what a delight it was to to go out naked in a hot summer thunderstorm as a child. Skipping and dancing in the rain and the puddles feeling free and alive. I let my kids do the same when they were little, never mind what he neighbours thought. One of those special childhood things.

  2. After my disappointment this past Saturday with a lost opportunity to play naked in the rain I had my little moment of compensation today.

    After staring hopelessly out at an enticing rain shower the other day from a loading dock at my work site, caught in the moment as a textile wearing useless clothes, I had my next opportunity just now. About twenty minutes ago, I witnessed a delightful sunset from the middle of Walden Pond (of Henry David Thoreau fame) about a twenty minute drive from my office. I was working on the same project as I was this past Saturday when the rains came, and we knocked off again today around 6pm. It made it to around 85 degrees in Boston today, so this being a physical job, I was ready for the next step… loose my clothes for a quick R&R on the way back to my office. I detoured over to the pond, parked, threw on my running kilt in the lot next to my car, locked up, and took a walk past the main beach down to the far end of the pond on the northwest corner, coincidently, near the foundation of Henry's original cabin there. I am certain that that little piece of the pond has witnessed many a skinny dip by the famous observer of all things natural back in the day.

    Though there were still a couple of dozen people scattered at various spots along the shore, mostly at the main beach up near the pavilion building, I was pleased to find no one down at the cove where I was. So I stepped up to the water's edged, slipped off the kilt tossing it into the bushes, as I plunged into the bracing waters. Ahhhhh! I am still perplexed at why anyone would want to wear a bathing suit. A most useless and expensive scrap of rag. Nothing between me, the water, and a golden sunset, the water as flat as a smokey plate glass mirror. Out in the middle of the pond for a few moments, I was just settling into the moment, when from across the water, I heard a couple of short chirps on a police siren. What me? He's at least 3/4 of mile away and up in his car behind the Pavilion. A friendly voice gets on the loudspeaker, and announces, "attention all visitors….the park closes in five minutes…..your cars must be out of the lot within a half hour or you will be locked in for the night…..We hope that you enjoyed your visit today."

    Yes officer, I most certainly did enjoy my visit today. Thanks for your understanding whether you saw me or not. A perfect end to a gorgeous day.

    Stay naked.


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