And now a word about nude sunbathing

And that word would be "don't."

I get that Europeans (namely the French) have a more laid back, non-prudish attitude regarding the human body. And I say bully (or whatever the French word for "bully" is) for them. But the last thing I want to see on a relaxing family beach holiday is some guy's twig and berries out foraging, especially when I'm strolling down the I-swear-the-sign-said-"no-nudity" (in English and French) beach in pursuit of a cow. And by "cow" I mean member of the subfamily Bovinae, not cow, as in an extremely unpleasant or overweight person. (I have no desire to photograph that subspecies.)

And yes, you read that right. I said cow. On the beach. (Which, alas, is also not the name of an alcoholic beverage, though maybe it should be.)

Sigh. Just thinking of how awesome that photo would have been -- a tan cow, hanging out on the beach! -- makes me a little giddy... and sad.

But I was not able to get that photo. (Though I got this one, sans cow, or vache, a bit later.)

And do you know why I was unable to get my awesome tan cow on the beach photo? Because just as I was about to get in range (I had brought only my little Canon PowerShot, not my Nikon with the zoom lens), some skinny pasty white dude stands up right in front of me -- and the cow -- and proceeds to remove his swim trunks and free willy.

The cow didn't seem to be the least bit bothered. In fact, she seemed rather nonplussed, and began grazing right next to the nude sunbathers. (There was another nude male there as well, at least I think he was nude. He was lying down, and I didn't care to look.)

I, however, was greatly annoyed. I really wanted that photo, but that would have required either a) being photobombed by a penis, or b) asking naked boy, probably in French, to kindly move so I could take a photo of the cow.

Neither option was appealing. So I quickly did an about face and stomped back down the beach, past the guy with swim trunks taking a photo of the cow -- and the nude guy -- with his DSLR with the zoom lens, frustrated that I had not gotten my cow shot and, okay, I admit it, wondering a) Isn't nude guy worried that thing will get burned*? And b) It must have hurt like hell having all (and I mean ALL) your hair removed. (On the positive side, at least he didn't have a hairy beer gut and man boobs, which can be equally traumatic.)

When I informed the spouse that some naked guy totally ruined my cow shot, he was blase. I'm not even sure if he looked up from his Kindle. Indeed, he went on to inform me that he thought he read somewhere that Happy was a clothing optional beach (despite the large sign in French and English at right before the path to Happy Beach that clearly said NO NUDITY) -- and went back to reading his book. (Unlike me, the spouse has no problem letting it all hang out.)

So no, I am not a fan of nude sunbathing (or guys in Speedos, but that is a different post), with or without cows.

The End

*Let us, please, consider that a rhetorical question and save the comments. 

Signs of fall

At the risk of jinxing the weather, I have to say in the over 13 years now that we have been living in Southern New England, I have yet to experience such a lovely autumn. The air conditioning has been off for weeks, and we haven't had to turn on the heat (yet). It also hasn't poured every day, or even every other day. (OMG, it's so going to snow next week now, isn't it?)

In short, it's been a pretty glorious fall, as you can see from these fall photos I shot this weekend up in the Berkshires, where the spouse, teenager, and I went leaf peeping, apple picking, and cow gazing.

I love fall.

[On a related note, Is it just me or did everyone go apple picking this past weekend]

Who you calling a great big cow?

Forget cock fighting, my friends. If you want to see some real action, just get a few big ornery cows together in the same pasture and let them lock horns to determine who will be the queen of the herd.

No, I am not referring to a PTA meeting. I am referring to the centuries-old Swiss Alps tradition of cow fighting. No bull.

Indeed, the competition to see who will be crowned the queen of the cows is taken very seriously in the Swiss canton of Valais, where every summer, starting in June, locals and tourists alike -- thousands of them -- gather to see which cow will reign supreme. There is even an official website.

And while there is no prize money for winning, the thrill of seeing your cow crowned queen is considered quite an honor for the owner -- and can result in a hefty price for the heifer, should the owner decide to sell her.

(Note: Locals, officials, and even tourists who have witnessed the cow fighting say it is humane and that the bovine beauties do no real damage to each other, just to their egos.)