haiku 0156

Fálki and I are staying at the Vermont Freedom Campground in Greensboro Bend, Vermont. We booked a month here because it sounded intriguing: Vermont's Northeast Kingdom, LGBTQ-friendly, and clothing optional.

I did not realize, however, when we booked this place months ago, how cold it is here in June. It's in the 40s and 50s in the mornings, which is a welcome relief from Texas's heat, but not conducive to nudity. In fact, I have been wearing long sleeves and sometimes a hoodie, even later in the day.

SIDENOTE: I've noticed that the move seems to be to wear long sleeves or a jacket and no pants. That offends my personal concept of nudism. Nude is nude, with the exception of sensible shoes, if the terrain demands them for protection.

This morning, though, I decided to take a shower. I snapped on my kilt and nothing else, put a towel around my shoulders, and headed to the bathhouse.

Just as I opened the door, another man was walking out. We were both startled, quickly recovered, and moved along.

"Sorry about that," he said. He was wearing nothing but a shirt.

It occurred to me that I'd just experienced a "meat and greet".