Tresnor liked to garden in the nude. She’d always done it. Her parents gardened in the nude, and since she was a wee toddler Tresnor had followed suit. There was a certain freedom! A oneness with nature! It was healthy! It was what tribal ancestors did eons ago! No one got hurt! It was perfectly harmless!
Only once did Tresnor get scratched, and that was when she was pruning a rose bush and she stepped back into the prickly pear cactus. She scratched the back of her leg, and after that, when she was pruning roses, she always wore long socks.
To be honest, a naked person pruning roses next to a prickly pear and wearing long socks is a sight to behold, but Tresnor didn’t mind. There was no one watching through her high fence.
These days, she is older, but she still gardens in the nude. There are no roses to prune, so the long socks have been dispensed with. And on a coldish day she forgoes gardening altogether. There’s no need really to get chilly unnecessarily. But on a sunny day she’s out there weeding and cutting back even though it wouldn’t matter if the garden got a little overgrown. Besides, the retirement village has a permanent gardener to care for the community garden.