I’m back home in my small house on the prairies after a visit to my son’s home where I got to play at being grandfather. Thankfully, the weather was pleasant enough to spend time outdoors, planting leaves with the three-year old and visiting a local park with her and her younger brother. As we were playing later in the day, in the house, building a Lego castle, I noticed that one of the shelves in the living room had books on display. There are books everywhere in the house, not too unexpected. However, the living room isn’t what I would call part of the scattered library found in other rooms.
Curious, I looked at the titles and noticed that beside travel books, my novels, poetry books, and autobiography books were included. Now, there is no way that I could say that my daughter-in-law, who arranged this selection, is a naturist. Yet, here on display were books, especially the poetry books which contained nude photos, were naturist fiction and non-fiction books. The books weren’t hidden in a room where guests would likely never find themselves. Needless to say, this meant a lot to me.
Now that I am back at home, it is time to get back to writing as well as finishing up some garden-related chores. This morning, I had a bit of spade work left in the garden that needed to be done to loosen up the packed soil where the beets and carrots had been grown. This afternoon, I will travel to get a truck load of sheep manure for the vegetable garden [we took the last of the carrots out yesterday afternoon]. Once the manure is spread on the garden, I will do a final tilling of the soil to mix in the manure. And, as most of my readers know, almost all work done in the yard, I do while clothing-free.