0:01

Welcome to Bedtime Stories

0:04

for everyone,

0:07

in which nothing

0:09

much happens, you

0:11

feel good, and then

0:14

you fall asleep. I'm

0:18

Catherine Nikolay. I

0:21

read and write all

0:23

the stories you hear on

0:25

Nothing Much Happens. Audio

0:29

Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

0:33

Today marks six years

0:37

of telling you bedtime stories, which

0:40

has become the

0:42

most exciting gentle

0:44

adventure of my life.

0:48

And it seems fitting that today

0:52

I can share something I've been working on

0:54

for quite a while, something

0:56

created just for you to

1:00

bring a piece of the village into

1:02

your homes and

1:04

to guide you into healthy wind

1:07

down routines that will feel

1:09

so good. This

1:12

month, we are releasing but

1:15

Nothing Much Happens wind Down

1:17

Box, a wellness box

1:19

of hand selected products

1:22

that I personally use and

1:25

that I love, along

1:28

with a few exclusive stories

1:31

to round out your cozy routines.

1:35

Each box features products

1:38

specially selected for your relaxation,

1:41

from Everescio Wellness's Chill

1:44

Now, a high potency

1:47

organic certified Raschi mushroom

1:49

extract to nutri

1:52

Champs tart cherry gummies great

1:54

for sleep and reducing inflammation,

1:57

and they taste great. There's

2:01

a lavender candle to

2:03

mark your moment of calm from

2:06

our favorite small batch candle

2:08

maker's Vella box. A

2:12

meditative activity for you

2:14

by way of a Brighter Year's

2:17

mini coloring book, a

2:20

fantastic way to disconnect

2:22

from your screen and tap

2:24

into your creative self before bed.

2:29

Then more mushrooms, this time in chocolate

2:32

specially formulated for sleep

2:35

from a lovely team behind Alice

2:37

Mushrooms. And some

2:39

delicious essential oils

2:43

to rub on your wrists and neck from

2:45

our friends at Woolsey's. And

2:48

of course some melatonin for those

2:50

who need an extra helping hand to rest

2:53

by way of new strips. Place

2:55

it on your tongue and it dissolves

2:58

in seconds. Like

3:01

everything in this village,

3:04

we took our time to create this for

3:06

you. It's

3:08

such a pleasure to be able to

3:11

help so many of you, to

3:14

tuck you in at night and

3:16

to keep watched till the morning. And

3:19

I'm excited to help create comfort

3:22

in new ways with our first

3:24

ever wind down Box. Head

3:28

over to Nothing Much Happens dot

3:30

com for more information. Let

3:34

me say a little about how to

3:36

use this podcast, and

3:39

I have a story to tell you, and

3:42

the story is a soft landing

3:45

place for your mind.

3:48

Whatever your day has been like. It

3:51

can end in soothing rest

3:54

just by following along with the sound

3:56

of my voice and the

3:59

simple shape of our tale.

4:02

I'll tell it twice, and I'll

4:04

go a little slower on the second telling. Let

4:09

the details you hear pull

4:11

you into the world of the story as

4:14

if you are seeing and hearing

4:17

and tasting what it has to offer.

4:21

If you wake again in the middle of the night, turn

4:25

your mind right back to those

4:27

details, and

4:30

before you know it, you'll

4:32

be waking up tomorrow feeling

4:35

refreshed. This

4:38

is a simple but effective form

4:40

of brain training, and

4:42

as the habit builds, you'll

4:44

notice that you drop off sooner and

4:47

stay asleep longer. Our

4:51

story tonight is called a

4:54

Dance in the Park, and

4:57

it's a story about coming back into

4:59

the world after

5:01

a bit of time spent alone.

5:05

It's also about a glass of pink hibiscus

5:07

tea window,

5:10

shopping on a downtown street,

5:14

and moving to the music on a

5:16

sunny day. Now

5:23

it's time to turn off the light and

5:27

to put away anything you've been playing with

5:29

or looking at.

5:33

Take a moment to cozy your body

5:35

down into your preferred

5:38

sleeping position, pull

5:42

the comforter over your shoulder, and

5:46

let's take a deep breath in

5:48

through the nose and

5:53

a soft sigh out of the mouth. Do

6:00

that one more time, breathe in and

6:07

out. Good

6:16

a dance in the park. We

6:21

were on the cusp of real summer

6:24

weather. And

6:26

when I sat on the front porch this morning

6:29

and let the sunshine creep across

6:32

the boards and onto my toes,

6:36

I noticed that it no longer felt

6:39

filtered and weak like

6:42

it often does in the winter and

6:45

early spring. This

6:49

was summer sunshine.

6:52

It warmed you through and

6:55

brought out freckles, and

6:58

felt when you lifted

7:00

your face to it with your eyes

7:02

tightly shut, like

7:05

food and medicine and

7:09

the missing element that

7:12

is suddenly abundant in your

7:14

system. I

7:17

sat until the whole porch was

7:20

lit up with morning light, and

7:24

listened to the birds calling and

7:27

the street waking up. Neighbors

7:31

waved from their driveways, coffee

7:34

cups in hand, stepping

7:37

out to fetch the paper or

7:40

to peer thoughtfully down at sprouting

7:42

gardens. Kids

7:45

on bikes and skateboards, already

7:49

deep into the games and stories

7:51

of the day, rolled

7:53

past me. I

7:58

supposed it was my turn to

8:01

head out into the day. I

8:04

stood up and checked my pockets.

8:09

I had house keys and

8:11

sunglasses and a

8:14

few dollars everything

8:16

I needed. One

8:19

of the lovely things about warm

8:21

weather days is

8:24

the ease with which you can leave the

8:26

house. After

8:30

months of layering on coats

8:33

and scarves, thick

8:36

socks and heavy boots, and

8:39

checking the weather report and shoveling

8:41

the front walk, it

8:44

is a joy to step out

8:46

in sandals and shirt sleeves

8:50

and be comfortable in the open air without

8:54

any planning at all. I

8:57

locked the front door, hopped

9:00

down the steps into the grass.

9:06

The sun warmed the back of my neck as

9:08

I started down the sidewalk. I

9:13

felt it on my forearms and calves

9:16

and the bridge of my nose. I

9:19

read once that

9:21

in some ancient mythology, in

9:25

some part of the world I'd

9:27

forgotten where,

9:30

they believed that the heat of the sun

9:33

was stored in trees, and

9:36

when you burned their wood, the

9:40

fire was just the sun being

9:43

finally released back into

9:45

the world. I

9:48

thought of this as the hot sun forced

9:51

a shiver down my spine.

9:55

I must have stored the cold from

9:58

all the snow I had shoveled over, the all

10:02

the snow men i'd rolled into place, all

10:06

the flakes i'd caught on my tongue.

10:10

Now that chill was wrung from my

10:12

body, and I felt

10:15

a momentary wave of goose bumps

10:17

on my arm as

10:19

it passed back into the atmosphere.

10:23

I hadn't paid much attention to where

10:26

I was walking, as it didn't

10:28

much matter to me, But

10:32

turning a corner, I was happy to see

10:34

I was on the edge of downtown. I

10:38

hadn't been to the shops and cafes

10:40

on these streets for a while, and

10:43

I'd missed them. There

10:46

was a window full of pastries and

10:49

fruit tarts at the bakery. Beside

10:54

the tarts was a stack of

10:56

fresh loaves, still

10:58

dusted with flour. They'd

11:02

been scored just before

11:04

they went into the oven, so

11:07

that their crusts showed a design

11:10

of curling leaves or

11:12

crisscrosses. A

11:15

few doors down in the window of a gift

11:18

shop, or a neat row

11:20

of handmade soaps and

11:23

jars of salves and lotions,

11:27

displays of bracelets and ear rings,

11:30

and hand drawn cards and pictures.

11:35

I didn't need a thing, but

11:38

I liked looking the

11:41

walk and the sun had

11:43

made me thirsty, and

11:46

I remembered a little cafe in

11:48

the next street that

11:51

made iced hibiscus tea,

11:55

and I strolled off toward it. The

11:59

outdoor tap or full of

12:01

folks having a drink or

12:03

a bite to eat, some

12:07

keeping company with friends, and

12:10

others happily sitting with a book

12:12

in hand or a

12:14

newspaper spread open on their lap.

12:19

I stepped inside and ordered my tea,

12:23

deciding to take it to go

12:26

so I could keep walking. Behind

12:30

the bar, they had a tall glass

12:33

urn with the bright pink

12:35

tea inside,

12:39

along with the hibiscus flowers. It

12:42

was brewed with fresh strawberries and

12:45

raspberries and knobbily

12:47

branches of ginger. A

12:51

minute later I was standing

12:53

back out in the fresh air, taking

12:57

a long drink of the tea, which

12:59

was and

13:02

tart, tasting the

13:05

flavor a bit like cranberries.

13:11

I sipped it as I made my way up

13:14

one street and down another.

13:19

The flower baskets hanging from the street

13:21

lamps were full of petunias

13:25

and geraniums and fuchsias.

13:30

I stopped to look at the posters in the window

13:32

of the record shop and made

13:35

a few mental plans for concerts

13:38

and gigs I could see in the next few

13:40

weeks. On

13:43

the lawn of the library. At the edge

13:46

of the park, kids

13:48

were grouped around picnic tables with

13:51

a few grown up volunteers overseeing

13:55

some craft project. They

13:59

darted back and forth between the tables,

14:03

gathering up supplies onto

14:05

paper plates to

14:08

make into collages. I

14:12

could hear their voices and laughter through

14:14

the still air. As I went

14:17

further into the park. Everything

14:22

was green, now

14:24

thick, fresh trimmed

14:26

grass, shrubs

14:28

and hedges, and

14:30

layers of shiny leaves overhead. As

14:36

I came around the side of the lake, I

14:39

heard music playing. I

14:43

followed it down a path and

14:48

into an open stone plaza where

14:52

the farmer's market was set up on

14:54

Sunday Morningsuddenly

15:00

the music was louder, and

15:03

a crowd of people danced to it. I

15:08

remembered seeing a poster by the library

15:11

for a group class

15:14

salsa in the park, it had said.

15:19

I smiled to myself as I watched

15:21

the faces of the dancers.

15:26

They were moving together, sometimes

15:29

in couples and sometimes as

15:31

groups, some

15:34

laughing and

15:36

some quite serious,

15:40

seeming to dance as much

15:42

with an engagingly lifted eyebrow

15:45

as with their feet as

15:49

they stepped and turned and shifted a

15:54

ring of happy spectators stood

15:56

watching, tapping

15:58

their toes, clapping their

16:00

hands to the music. I

16:05

settled onto a bench to watch now,

16:09

and then, catching the eye

16:11

of a dancer or passer

16:13

by, we

16:17

said to each other with our eyes, this

16:21

is nice.

16:24

I'm glad to be here for it. I'd

16:29

spent a lot of time on my own

16:31

lately, and

16:33

that served its own purpose. Solitude

16:39

was fortifying for me. It

16:42

gave me space. I'm

16:44

quiet and a

16:46

steady center. But

16:50

I'd been like a gear turning

16:53

all by itself in the house. That

16:58

gear rotated and

17:00

kept my machinery going. But

17:05

to day, feeling

17:07

the sun and

17:10

waving at my neighbors,

17:14

looking in the store windows,

17:17

and drinking tea in the open air, and

17:22

clapping along with the music while people

17:24

danced,

17:28

it felt like my gear was

17:30

sinking back up with everyone else's.

17:35

We powered each other, and

17:40

that felt like rediscovering my place

17:42

among my fellows. I

17:47

closed my eyes and listened

17:49

to the clapping hands. I

17:53

lifted my face and let the sun shine

17:55

on it. I

17:58

took a deep breath in

18:04

I let it out.

18:11

A dance in the park. We

18:18

were on the cusp of real

18:20

summer weather, and

18:24

when I sat on the front porch this

18:26

morning and

18:29

let the sunshine creep across

18:31

the boards and on to my

18:33

toes. I

18:37

noticed that it no longer felt

18:39

filtered and weak, like

18:45

it often does in the winter and

18:48

early spring. This

18:54

was summer sunshine.

18:58

It warmed you through and

19:00

brought out freckles, and

19:04

felt when you lifted your

19:06

face to it with your

19:08

eyes tightly shut, like

19:11

food and medicine

19:16

and the missing element that was

19:18

suddenly abundant in your system. I

19:25

sat until the whole porch was lit

19:27

up with morning light, and

19:32

listened to the birds calling on

19:35

the street, waking up. Neighbors

19:40

waved from their driveways, coffee

19:43

cups in hand, stepping

19:47

out to fetch the paper, or

19:51

peer thoughtfully down its sprouting

19:53

gardens. Kids

19:58

on bikes and scape boards, already

20:02

deep into the games and stories

20:04

of the day, rolled past

20:06

me. I

20:11

supposed it was my turn to

20:14

head out into the day. I

20:20

stood up and checked

20:22

my pockets. I

20:25

had house keys and

20:28

sunglasses and

20:30

a few dollars everything

20:33

I needed. One

20:38

of the lovely things about

20:41

warm weather days is

20:44

the ease with which

20:47

you can leave the house after

20:52

months of layering on coats

20:55

and scarves, thick

20:57

socks, and heavy boots,

21:01

and checking the weather report and

21:04

shoveling the front walk. It

21:09

is a joy to step out

21:11

in sandals and shirt sleeves

21:16

and be comfortable in the open air

21:20

without any planning at all. I

21:26

locked the front door and

21:30

hopped down the steps into

21:32

the grass. The

21:37

sun warmed the back of my neck as

21:40

I started down the sidewalk. I

21:45

felt it on my forearms and

21:47

calves and

21:50

the bridge of my nose. I

21:55

read once in some ancient

21:58

mythology, in

22:01

some part of the world i'd

22:03

forgotten where, they

22:08

believed that the heat of the sun

22:11

was stored in trees, and

22:16

when you burned their wood, the

22:19

fire was just the

22:21

sun being finally

22:23

released back into the world.

22:30

I thought of this as the hot sun

22:33

forced a shiver down my spine.

22:39

I must have stored the cold

22:43

from all the snow I had shoveled over

22:45

the years, all

22:49

the snow man I'd rolled into place, all

22:53

the flakes I'd caught on my tongue.

23:00

Now that chill

23:02

was wrung from my body, and

23:06

I felt a momentary wave of

23:09

goose bumps on my arms as

23:12

it passed back into the atmosphere.

23:19

I hadn't paid much attention to

23:21

where I was walking, as

23:24

it didn't much matter to me, But

23:29

turning a corner, I

23:32

was happy to see I was on the edge

23:34

of downtown. I

23:40

hadn't been to the shops and cafes

23:42

on these streets for a while, and

23:46

I'd missed them. There

23:50

was a window full of pastries and

23:53

fruit tarts at the bakery. Beside

23:58

the tarts was a staff of

24:00

fresh loaves,

24:02

still dusted with flour. They'd

24:08

been scored just before they went into

24:10

the oven, so that their

24:12

crusts showed a design

24:15

of curling leaves or

24:17

criss crosses. A

24:23

few doors down, in

24:25

the window of a gift shop were

24:28

a neat row of handmade

24:30

soaps, and jars

24:32

of salves and lotions,

24:37

displays of bracelets and

24:40

earrings, and

24:42

hand drawn cards and pictures.

24:48

I didn't need a thing, but

24:51

I liked looking the

24:56

walk, and the sun had made me

24:58

thirsty. I

25:02

remembered a little cafe

25:05

in the next street that

25:07

made iced hibiscus tea,

25:12

and I strolled off toward it. The

25:18

outdoor tables were full of folks

25:21

having a drink or

25:23

a bite to eat, some

25:28

keeping company with friends,

25:32

and others happily sitting with a book

25:34

in hand, or

25:36

a newspaper spread open on their lap.

25:43

I stepped inside and ordered my

25:45

tea. I

25:50

decided to take it to go so

25:53

I could keep walking. Behind

25:58

the bar, they had a tall glass

26:01

urn with the bright pink

26:03

tea inside,

26:08

along with the hibiscus flowers. It

26:11

was brewed with fresh strawberries

26:14

and raspberries and

26:17

nobby branches of ginger. A

26:23

minute later I was

26:25

standing back out in the fresh

26:27

air, taking

26:30

a long drink of the tea, which

26:34

was cold and tart,

26:36

tasting the

26:39

flavor a bit like cranberries.

26:45

I sipped it as I made my way up

26:48

one street and down another.

26:55

The flower baskets hanging from the

26:57

street lamps were full of

26:59

petunias and geraniums

27:02

and fuchias. I

27:07

stopped to look at the posters

27:10

in the window of the record shop and

27:14

made a few mental plans

27:16

for concerts and gigs

27:19

I could see in the next few weeks.

27:25

On the lawn of the library. At

27:28

the edge of the park, kids

27:31

who were grouped around picnic tables with

27:36

a few grown up volunteers

27:40

overseeing some craft project.

27:47

They darted back and forth between

27:50

the tables, gathering

27:54

up supplies onto

27:56

paper plates into

28:00

collages I

28:05

could hear their voices and

28:07

laughter through the still air.

28:10

As I went further into the park,

28:17

everything was green, now, thick,

28:23

fresh trimmed grass, shrubs

28:26

and hedges, and

28:29

layers of shiny leaves overhead.

28:35

As I came around the side of the lake,

28:40

I heard music playing. I

28:45

followed it down a path and

28:49

into an open stone plaza

28:53

where the farmer's market was

28:55

set up on Sunday mornings.

29:02

Suddenly the music was louder when

29:05

a crowd of people danced to it. I

29:11

remembered seeing a poster by

29:13

the library for a group

29:16

class

29:19

salsa in the park, it had

29:21

said, I

29:25

smiled to myself as

29:28

I watched the faces of the dancers.

29:34

They were moving together, sometimes

29:38

in couples and sometimes

29:40

as groups, some

29:44

laughing and

29:47

some quite serious, seeming

29:50

to dance as much

29:53

with an engagingly lifted eyebrow

29:56

as with their feet. They

30:00

stepped and turned and

30:03

shifted. A

30:08

ring of happy spectators stood

30:10

watching, tapping

30:13

their toes and

30:16

clapping their hands to the music. I

30:22

settled on to a bench to watch

30:27

now, and then, catching the eye of a

30:29

dancer passer by, we

30:35

said to each other with our eyes,

30:39

this is nice.

30:41

I'm glad to be here for it. I'd

30:47

spent a lot of time on my own lately,

30:51

and that served its own purpose. Solitude

30:57

was fortifying for me. It

31:01

gave me space and quiet

31:05

and a steady center. But

31:10

I'd been like a gear turning

31:14

all by itself in the house. That

31:20

gear rotated and

31:23

kept my machinery going. But

31:28

today, feeling

31:30

the sun and waving

31:32

at my neighbors, looking

31:36

in the store windows, and

31:39

drinking tea in the open air, clapping

31:44

along with the music while

31:46

people danced, it

31:51

felt like my gear was

31:53

sinking back up with everyone

31:55

else's powered

32:01

each other, and

32:04

that felt like rediscovering my

32:07

place among my fellows. I

32:13

closed my eyes and

32:15

listened to the clapping hands. I

32:20

lifted my face and

32:24

let the sun shine on it. I

32:28

took a deep breath in and

32:35

let it out.

32:42

Sweet dreams,