Favorite Pic of the Day for October 12th

Above:

Hansel Wellington by Lights On Studio

-See More Below-

~Check out today's BIRTHDAYS HERE:~

Seasonal Sightings:

 Although there are some major differences in how Thanksgiving is celebrated compared to their southern neighbours, there is one big similarity.  Both have big football games played on Thanksgiving Day, in the US, it's college teams as well as players rom the NFL. In Canada, it's college and teams from the CFL. 

Gourdgeous!

I only have pies or you!

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

'Eat, drink, but be clothed'

Now I love me a great naked chef, especially if they're cooking, baking and preparing their bird the way Hunter does in the shot below.  When it comes to guests for Thanksgiving dinner however, I want them clothed.  They can arrive naked, they can get naked after the pumpkin pie, but during the main meal itself, I wanted them donning their gay apparel. 

Hunter

Serving the pumpkin pie naked, good.  Sitting on an expensive dining room chair eating it, not so good.  Why?  Well, from my experience, there is so much thought that goes into the Thanksgiving dinner.  The menu is carefully planned, and hours are spent in the kitchen preparing each dish.  The main attraction at the dinner table should be the meal and the chef.  No need to pull focus with naked body parts hit by spilled gravy going rogue.

As much attention went into the meal, the guest list was pretty free for all.  My mom welcomed everyone when I was growing up.  My and my siblings friends, neighbours, family, even those we rarely saw.  Members of church with nowhere to go, relative strangers at times.  There weren't really any invitations sent out, it was just known that all were welcome.  That meant, some years we had a crowed dining room table, and other years, there were so many people, we had a buffet, with people standing and eating in almost every room.

Now, as much as I would love a table of hot hunks to dine with, in formal wear, or in matching plaid, having a great looking guest list isn't really in the spirit of the holiday.   Thanksgiving is for giving thanks, and also sharing what we have with others who may need a meal or some holiday companionship.

Although I'm a no on the dining naked, I would be ok if the guys wanted stuff, carve or eat shirtless.

So. with so many houseguests around the house and the table, there were a majority of people, from my Grandparents to my Minister, who I had zero interest in seeing naked.  Sure, there might be the odd friend of my brothers, boyfriend of my sister who I'd love to see au natural, it wouldn't be worth seeing my Uncle Arthur and Aunt Gwen out of their sweatpants.

See what I mean...  So.... great your guest naked, serve them pie in the buff, when it comes to dining, do it donning some clothes.

Hitting the Hay

'Technically' it was private land but next to main public roads. Cars kept going by and I either had to pull my pants up or get out of view in a hurry. The hay was fun to climb up, but you don't want it poking bare skin which I was completely bare against most of the time.'

The quote from model Hansel Wellington comes from US themed Thanksgiving piece that I posted back in 2016. (HERE:)  The images were shot by photographer Tom Nakielski. (Lights On Studio)  The location, The Michigan State University Sheep Teaching and Research Center. The rolled haystacks were located in one of MSU's cow pastures.   As many FH viewers know, I've been featuring Tom's holiday work for over a decade.  Tom captured at least 5 exclusive Thanksgiving themed shoots for the site.

It was Tom's haystack shots with Hansel that inspired me to write about childhood trips to the country.  Although I liver rurally now, I grew up in a city.  Our family would head to country once or twice a year, usually on the hunt for fresh fruit and vegetables.  My mother loved to prepare for the winter, something she learned from her mother.  She made jars and jars of jams, pickles and jams that lasted us long beyond the next few months of winter.

Viggo Sorensen

Although with the sites, my fondest memories are of the smells.  It started during the car ride, when my dad would always make us laugh every time the smell of manure would waft into the car.  While my mother and us kids would roll up the windows, my dad would roll his down and take a deep breath in, sharing how much he loved the smelly scent. 

By the time we finally arrived, the smell of manure became sort of normal, and it was the other smells from the farm that took over.  These were scents I enjoyed taking in.  The smell of the fresh air, the animals, and especially the freshly baled hay.  Living int he country now, the smell is pretty common, but like my dad with that manure, whenever I pass a freshly mowed field full of bales of hay.

It's sort of odd, but hay, and hay barns, have become closely linked with sex.   I think it's all those television shows and movies in which couples snuck away to do the deed in a barn or hayloft.  Usually, the only eyes enjoying the show were any animals still stuck in their stalls.