Nature’s Striptease
I sat on a special mountain top today; one that I normally
fly from. This special place is the
southernmost mountain in the Olympic range.
From the south, it begins the Olympic range. From the west, it is among the highest peaks
along the southern edge between the coast and the
On this particular day, one of those days when conditions were just right, I watched a glorious act unfold on Nature’s own stage as the wet, westward flowing air arrived at the mountain, and stopped. I watched from the best seat in the house, from the front row, from the highest place possible. I sat for two hours mesmerized by Her eroticism.
Warm, wet air blew in from the southwest and met the cold air that clung to Nature’s sensuous mounds. Cloud veils appeared, disappeared, changed in density from opaque to translucent on the invisible cues of one most magical stage director. Nature stirred those cloudy veils back and forth across her sensual peaks and valleys, holding them, shaping them, nudging them delicately with invisible fingers that ran ever so lightly through Her veils and across the hairs on my arms. How She pleased me, Her only customer, with those delicate interactions. Nature danced deliciously to the sounds of some invisible band made up of the rhythmic buzz of insect wings and the lonely sounds of a single dove. In choreographed perfection, in exact tempo with the subtle motions of the grasses and the tree tops, She draped one misty veil after another over Her luscious mounds, hiding both peaks and valleys. Truly, as each veil mystically appeared, the very beauty of Nature disappeared, but only for a moment. Carefully, with tantalizing grace, she allowed one veil after another to disintegrate into nothingness, sometimes slowly, sometimes not, but always, she offered those quick, tantalizing views of her glorious mounds. Occasionally Nature allowed the very tips of Her mounds to peek through those veils, but as always during this dance, only briefly. She teased today. She offered only soft brushes with invisible fingers through my hair. She provided only tantalizing glances of the beautiful mounds I so wanted to enjoy.
Her dance was constant, and those misty veils continued to rise and fall as Nature played. The single stage light, on this day mostly filtered to provide flat broadcasting light, would occasionally provide a single bright spot on one area of the stage. She would quickly veil that spot so I would have to look through the translucence to see that brightness on the other side. She played with my mind. She made me want Her. She intensified my craving for Her to drop the veils, to toss them aside so that all Her stage would be covered in that same brightness. Sometimes She would direct that light to spot certain areas of her mounds. I could see the light reflect off the wetness of the trees, see it shine once again through Nature’s veils like soft moonlight that reflected off some tantalizingly sweaty area of Her body. Nature danced Her dance for me alone. Absent were the jeers and cheers of the crowd. Absent were the sounds of excitement and encouragement. Only I was there. Only I prayed that the veils would be dropped. Only I, alone on that mountain, urged Nature to cast off Her veils so that She could be strongly lighted, naked and warm. It did not happen. Nature maintained Her high state of modesty, maintained the magical appearance and disappearance of Her veils on this wondrous mountain top. But today, there was no flight. Today, I found an abundance of magic only in Nature’s dance.