I found out that there was a “living history park” not far from where I live. Unfortunately, the day I went, history was not coming alive. Only a couple of the houses were manned by people. Wasps—and I’m talking wasps as big as your hand—were out in full force.
It was in the upper 90s and a lot of the trail was directly in the sun. So it was pretty darn hot. But that in itself says a lot about the area and the kind of work that people were doing out in that kind of weather.
I think the photos turned out well. The yellow house is the plantation house, which is right about the size I was hoping for. There are out buildings for not only the out house, but the kitchen, the loom/weaving area. And, of course, the well. Something out there bit my toe and I had to sit down for a few and rub the ouchie. A wasp kept buzzing me and eventually landed on my husband’s sleeve. Brave girl that I am, I ran away and let him deal with it.
The barn is more of an immigrant barn, but it had some of the tools of the trade I thought were important.
We checked out the Native American area, but there really wasn’t a lot there. I did fall in love with that giant tree and took many shots of it. I think that tree will make appearances in many stories.
See the whole Pioneer Farms Slideshow
Tight Ends: An Erotic Gay Football Anthology is currently #13 on Amazon’s Books > Literature & Fiction > Erotica > Gay & Lesbian > Anthologies!
Okay, yeah, I know. That’s like…a lot of categories down, but hey! It’s got a ranking somewhere!
I actually sent my mother a copy of it in print. She was an English teacher and I made her promise not to send back any of my books to me all in red ink. She said she liked it, but that’s a little like saying that your mom says you’re fun at parties. But there’s your endorsement: Though Clancy’s mom wonders why her daughter is writing gay porn, she said it was a good book.
I keep missing the Humpday Hunks by either finding pictures preemptively that I feel I have to post Right Now or remembering photos I loved too late.
This particular photo is all sorts of love to me, not only because it’s beautifully shot, but it was actually taken by Monday Manmeat Jonas Kesseler from L’etat c’est moi. There’s just something sexy about actors turned directors and models turned photographers.
And who is that in there? Why it’s Paul Boche, who I have declared love for before with Marcel Castenmiller who I have not publicly acknowledged adoration for here, but I guarantee that even before I saw his cute Model Diary, I was enchanted by him on the runway.
What they are doing here, exactly, I can only speculate. I’m not sure if Paul is angry or if this is the start of some erotic asphyxiation. I’m good either way, really. But, as a public service, I would like to remind the boys and any readers that as we learned from David Carradine and Micheal Hutchence (and others), erotic asphyxiation is definitely a sport in which you need a spotter, which they appear to have in Jonas. Good job, boys.