The mountain air is cool. The canopy is thick and shields the forest floor from the sun. I am lucky to be alone. Everyone has gone and I can enjoy the quiet. I step out of the cabin and pause, taking in. The sounds. The smells. All of it. The wind rustles the leaves and a slice of sunshine finds it way to my face. Immediately, I feel refreshed and peaceful. I want more of that. I set off down the path, shedding clothing as I go. Sandals first. Bare feet on the soft, cool moss. Arms across my body, I pull my blouse over my head and drop it, leaving it as I continue. The freedom of being naked in the woods is intoxicating. I reach behind me and unhook my bra. As it slips from my breasts and the cool air hits my nipples, my skin erupts in goose-flesh. I look around out of habit. There is no one. I smile at my daring. I laugh at how silly that is. These are my woods. I am naked. There is everything right with this. Next shorts. Panties. I am a dryad, a nymph from a Waterhouse painting. As my clothing falls away, so do all my thoughts, worries, stresses. I am unfettered.