0:01

Welcome to

0:03

Bedtime Stories for

0:05

Everyone, in

0:07

which nothing

0:09

much happens. You

0:12

feel good, and

0:15

then you fall asleep. I'm

0:19

Catherine Nicolai. I

0:22

read and write all

0:24

the stories you'll hear on

0:26

Nothing Much Happens. No

0:29

Engineering is by Bob Wittercheim.

0:34

We give to a different charity each

0:36

week, and

0:39

as your Bedtime Stories are

0:42

written and recorded along the banks

0:44

of the Rouge River, this

0:47

week we are giving to friends of

0:50

Rouge Park. They

0:52

work to protect, restore,

0:55

and promote a natural,

0:57

environmentally healthy, and

0:59

culturally vibrant Rouge Park that

1:02

engages the community for the benefit

1:05

and enjoyment of all. You

1:08

can learn more about them in our show notes.

1:12

We are here to help, not

1:15

only to tuck you in at night with

1:18

a Bedtime Story. We

1:22

also have a daytime version of the show

1:25

called Stories from the Village of

1:27

Nothing Much. I

1:30

think of it like easy listening, but

1:33

for fiction. And

1:35

we have a morning meditation show. Just

1:39

10 minutes, practical and fully

1:41

guided. It's called

1:43

First This. All

1:45

free content. You

1:48

can get them right where you're listening now. We

1:51

also have premium subscriptions. And

1:55

even the top tier comes out to

1:57

just 10 cents a day. And

1:59

free. with dozens of bonus

2:02

episodes and extra long apps.

2:06

And most recently, our wind down box.

2:09

It's packed with full-size products, hand

2:12

selected by me to make

2:15

bedtime your favorite time. Find

2:18

the links in our show notes. Now,

2:23

here's how this works. I'll

2:27

read you a bedtime story. It's

2:31

soft and soothing, and

2:34

not much happens in it. Just

2:38

by listening, we'll

2:40

shift your wandering mind onto

2:43

a steady track where

2:46

it will be rocked to sleep. I'll

2:51

tell the story twice, and

2:55

I'll go a little slower the

2:57

second time through. If

3:00

you wake again in the night, don't

3:03

hesitate to turn an episode

3:05

right back on. And

3:09

if you are new to this, have

3:12

some patience. Habit

3:14

building takes time. Our

3:18

story tonight is

3:21

called Paddling on the

3:23

Canal, and

3:25

it's a story about a quiet morning on

3:27

the lake. It's

3:29

also about dragonflies and

3:32

water lilies, weeping

3:34

willows along the shore, a

3:37

bell ringing from the back porch of the

3:40

inn, and

3:42

a connection point felt

3:44

with people around the world. Now,

3:52

get yourself all tucked

3:55

in. Even

3:57

if you are a grownup. You

4:00

still deserve to feel safe and

4:03

snug and cared

4:05

for as you settle in for

4:08

bed. So

4:10

take a second. Get

4:13

as comfortable as you can.

4:18

Let your jaw soften, your

4:21

shoulders and neck relax.

4:26

All is well now. The

4:29

day is done. Nothing

4:32

more is needed from

4:34

you. Truly,

4:39

let the day slip from your fingers.

4:44

Let them rest better to

4:46

grasp tomorrow. Take

4:49

a slow, deep breath in

4:51

through your nose and

4:56

let it out through your mouth. Again,

5:02

fill it up and

5:08

let it go. Good.

5:19

Paddling on the canal. I

5:24

sat at the end of the dock, my

5:28

legs dangling off the edge,

5:33

and looked out at the water. It

5:38

was still today, flat

5:42

and reflective as a mirror. On

5:47

the far side of the lake, in

5:50

the top branches of a tall pine,

5:54

I could make out the profile of

5:56

a bird, an

5:59

eagle in the middle, In fact, the

6:04

sparrows that flitted around the shrubs

6:07

at my front door were

6:11

somewhat anonymous to me. Unless

6:16

one had a particular

6:18

unique feature, I'd

6:21

never be able to tell one from

6:23

another. But

6:27

once I'd learned to spot this eagle,

6:29

to find

6:32

his shape among

6:34

the brown and green, I

6:38

knew him. I

6:41

guessed that to him, I was

6:44

like the sparrows, just

6:47

another human, up

6:50

to human business, indistinguishable

6:54

from the others. But

6:59

that didn't bother me. Sometimes

7:04

it is quite relaxing

7:06

to be anonymous, seen

7:10

but not wondered about. I

7:15

watched the eagle turn

7:17

his head into the wind, just

7:22

a breeze down here but undoubtedly

7:26

stronger up high in the

7:28

branches, then

7:31

spread his wings and

7:34

push off. How

7:37

good that must feel to soar

7:42

and be wrapped in air. I

7:47

appreciated the breeze, however

7:50

slight. It

7:54

was a warm day, the

7:57

katydids and crickets. 10

10:00

o'clock was perfect.

10:05

I had the lake practically

10:07

to myself. Besides

10:12

a yellow lab whose

10:14

owner was patiently throwing his

10:16

toy out into the water

10:21

so that the dog could take leap after

10:24

leap to fetch it. And

10:27

some geese and swans far

10:30

out in the center. I

10:34

was alone. I

10:38

liked to look down as I paddled

10:42

and watch the shelf of sand

10:46

shift under me till

10:49

I got far enough out that

10:53

the deeper water lost its clarity.

10:59

When I switched hands and

11:02

crossed the paddle over

11:04

the board, drips

11:08

of the fresh lake water landed

11:11

on the tops of my feet. It

11:16

felt cool but

11:18

not cold. Sunny

11:23

days and warm

11:25

nights were bringing the

11:27

water temperature up slowly

11:30

but surely. I

11:34

paddled around a cove where

11:38

the water was shallow and

11:42

a patch of lily pads grew. I

11:47

was careful not to disturb them but

11:52

slowed enough to really look

11:55

at the three or four blooming

11:57

flowers. Across

16:03

the lake, at

16:06

the end, I

16:08

spotted a couple of rowboats

16:11

casting off. Leisure-minded

16:16

vacationers often

16:18

took the boats out for

16:21

a slow row,

16:23

and I chuckled remembering

16:26

how I'd

16:28

bumped into one, literally,

16:30

a few days before.

16:36

He'd gotten dozy in the

16:38

sunshine and

16:40

tucked his oars into the boat,

16:44

set his straw hat over his

16:47

eyes, and

16:50

stretched out on the bench. I'd

16:55

been trying to steer around him.

17:00

When the wind shifted and

17:04

my board bumped against his prow,

17:09

he'd lifted the corner of his hat

17:14

and squinted at me. I

17:18

chuckled a bit as

17:20

he yawned and blinked, looking

17:23

around to see how far he'd

17:25

drifted. He

17:29

asked me if I'd heard the bell ring

17:32

at the inn yet. It

17:35

was rung on the porch, reliably,

17:39

every day at 5

17:42

p.m., announcing

17:44

cocktail hour, and

17:47

could be heard echoing across the

17:49

lake. When

17:53

I told him it hadn't told

17:55

for him yet, he

17:58

thanked me. laid

18:01

back down and

18:03

replaced his hat. I

18:07

chuckled again as I paddled down

18:10

the canal, wondering

18:13

how long he'd slept and if

18:17

he'd made it to the inn before

18:20

all the sandwiches and

18:22

spritzes were gone. The

18:27

canal was shady. It

18:30

seemed almost stark

18:34

after being on the open water. Tall

18:40

willows, their

18:43

leafy trellises drooping into

18:45

the water, lined

18:48

either side, making

18:51

a canopy of thick leaves. And

18:56

I noticed more birdsong as

18:59

I went deeper in. On

19:03

a few back porches, I

19:07

spotted folks sitting out, enjoying

19:11

the day. And

19:15

between strokes of the oar, I raised

19:19

a hand to wave. The

19:23

canal curved and

19:26

I followed it. I

19:30

imagined myself an

19:33

explorer finding

19:36

a path through an unknown land.

19:42

There were dragonflies skimming

19:44

over the surface of the canal.

19:49

And when they passed through a

19:51

patch of sunlight, their

19:54

iridescent blue bodies

19:57

shimmered. I

20:01

wondered if anyone else in

20:04

the world was seeing

20:06

or feeling

20:08

what I was in this

20:10

moment. A

20:14

club of canal paddlers on

20:18

waters up and down the continents,

20:23

watching pretty winged insects

20:27

and listening to a breeze ruffling

20:30

through leaves, looking

20:34

forward to a swim soon and

20:38

a nap as the day got

20:41

warmer. I

20:45

liked that idea of a club

20:47

of humans scattered over

20:49

the globe, their

20:53

membership being a few

20:56

minutes of

20:58

similar experience. I

21:03

switched my oar to the

21:05

other side and

21:08

kept paddling. I

21:20

sat at the end of the dock,

21:24

my legs dangling off the edge

21:27

and looked out at the water. It

21:33

was still today, flat

21:38

and reflective as a mirror. On

21:44

the far side of the lake, in

21:49

the top branches of a

21:51

tall pine, I

21:54

could make out the profile of a

21:57

bird. an

22:00

eagle, in fact. The

22:06

sparrows that flitted

22:08

around the shrubs at

22:10

my front door were somewhat

22:13

anonymous to me. Unless

22:20

one had a particular unique

22:22

feature, I'd

22:26

never be able to tell one from

22:28

another. But

22:33

once I'd learned to spot this eagle, to

22:38

find his shape among

22:41

the brown and green, I

22:45

knew him. I

22:49

guessed that to him,

22:51

I was like

22:53

the sparrows. Just another human, up to human business,

23:03

indistinguishable from the others. But

23:09

that didn't bother me. Sometimes

23:15

it is quite relaxing to be anonymous,

23:19

seen but not wondered about. I

23:28

watched the eagle turn his head into the wind, a

23:35

breeze down here, but undoubtedly stronger

23:39

up high in the branches. Then

23:42

spread his wings and

23:45

push off into the air.

23:53

How good that must feel. to

24:01

soar and

24:04

be wrapped in air. I

24:10

appreciate the breeze, however

24:13

slight. It

24:18

was a warm day. The

24:22

katydids and crickets

24:25

were noisy in the grass, and

24:30

I was glad to be close to the

24:32

water. Usually,

24:38

I'd have been dipping

24:40

my toes in here

24:43

at the end of the dock, but

24:47

between my soles and

24:51

the lake was

24:53

the firm surface of

24:57

my paddleboard. After

25:02

a few funny but very

25:06

wet attempts at

25:08

getting onto it, I'd

25:13

learned this useful approach. I

25:19

eased the board around

25:23

with my paddle until

25:27

it floated directly beneath the

25:30

dock, the

25:34

front half of it sticking out toward

25:36

the lake. And

25:39

then I'd shift my weight onto

25:43

my feet and

25:46

slowly stand, knowing

25:50

I could always

25:54

sit right back down on

25:57

the warm wooden boards.

26:00

if needed. Today,

26:06

balance was with me, and

26:11

I pulled along my oar as

26:14

I gained my feet, and

26:19

slowly paddled away from shore.

26:25

On the weekends, on

26:29

holidays, the

26:31

lake can be busy. Boats

26:36

everywhere, kids

26:39

on floaties, and

26:42

music pouring from speakers on

26:44

each deck. But

26:48

this Wednesday

26:51

morning at 10 o'clock

26:55

was perfect. I

26:59

had the lake practically to

27:01

myself. Besides

27:07

a yellow lab whose

27:11

owner was patiently throwing

27:14

his toy out

27:16

into the water so

27:20

that the dog could take leap

27:23

after leap to fetch it. And

27:28

some geese and swans far

27:31

out in the center, I

27:33

was alone. I

27:37

liked to look down as I paddled

27:43

and watch the shelf of sand

27:46

shift under me till

27:49

I got far enough out that

27:54

the deeper water lost

27:57

its clarity. When

28:02

I switched hands and

28:05

crossed the paddle over

28:07

the board, drips

28:11

of fresh lake water landed

28:16

on the tops of my feet. It

28:21

felt cool, but

28:23

not cold. Sunny

28:27

days and

28:30

warm nights were

28:32

bringing the water temperature up slowly

28:37

but surely. I

28:42

paddled around a cove where

28:46

the water was shallow. And

28:51

a patch of lily pads

28:53

grew. I

28:57

was careful not to disturb them,

29:01

but slowed enough to

29:04

really look at

29:07

the three or four blooming

29:10

flowers. They

29:14

were pink and white, with

29:18

rows and rows of

29:22

overlapping petals and

29:26

a bright yellow center full

29:30

of pollen. Water

29:35

lilies felt like they

29:38

belonged in

29:40

the same category as rainbows

29:44

and the aurora borealis. Natural,

29:50

yes. Of

29:54

this world, certainly. But

29:58

just a bit. too special

30:02

to seem real. They

30:07

seemed straight out of a fairy

30:09

tale. And

30:14

as I paddled past and

30:18

noticed a frog resting

30:22

on one of the pads, his

30:25

throat puffed up like

30:28

bubble gum about to

30:30

pop. I

30:34

thought I better not lean down and

30:37

ask for a kiss. I

30:42

wasn't sure my board could

30:44

hold too. I

30:49

paddled across the lake, taking

30:53

a minute or two in

30:55

the center to

30:58

just stand. To

31:03

stop propelling myself

31:05

forward and

31:09

draw deep breaths of air down

31:13

into the bottoms of my lungs. Though

31:19

spring was over, there

31:22

was still a sweetness in

31:25

the air. Fresh

31:29

petals and

31:32

that clean rain

31:34

scent that

31:37

came from the lake. The

31:43

mirror-like surface of

31:45

the water was just

31:47

beginning to ripple as the

31:50

breeze picked up. And

31:54

I turned my board back

31:57

toward the shore. I

32:02

wasn't quite ready to be done

32:04

yet, but I

32:06

had an idea. A

32:10

little adventure I hadn't

32:13

taken in a while that

32:16

appealed to me. There

32:21

is a long, winding

32:24

canal that

32:27

connects our lake to

32:31

a smaller one just

32:34

south of ours. The

32:38

canal cuts through backyards

32:43

and in places passes

32:45

through shady, wooded lots

32:50

and circles around a tiny

32:54

island the size

32:56

of a school bus. I

33:02

liked to take a trip through it at

33:06

least once a year and

33:10

hadn't done it yet this

33:12

summer. So

33:16

off I paddled to

33:18

find the small ingress to

33:20

it. Just

33:25

past the dock where

33:29

the yellow lab had been

33:31

diving and fetching and

33:36

was now stretched out

33:39

in the sun, letting

33:41

his thick fur dry. I

33:46

turned into the canal. Across

33:52

the lake, at the inn,

33:56

I spotted a couple of rowboats, off.

34:04

Leisure-minded vacationers

34:08

often took the boats out for

34:11

a slow row, and

34:15

I chuckled, remembering

34:17

how I'd

34:19

bumped into one, literally,

34:23

a few days before. He'd

34:28

gotten dozy in the

34:30

sunshine and tucked

34:33

his oars into the boat, set

34:38

his straw hat over his

34:40

eyes, and stretched out

34:42

on the bench, I'd

34:48

been trying to steer around him

34:51

when the wind shifted, and

34:56

my board bumped against

34:58

his prow. He'd

35:03

lifted the corner of his hat and

35:07

squinted at me. I

35:11

chuckled a bit as he

35:14

yawned and blinked, looking

35:17

around to see how

35:20

far he'd drifted. He

35:25

asked me if I'd heard the bell

35:27

ring at the inn yet.

35:33

It was rung on the porch, reliably,

35:38

every day at 5 p.m.,

35:43

announcing cocktail hour, and

35:48

could be heard echoing

35:50

across the lake. When

35:56

I told him, it

35:58

hadn't yet. Told for

36:01

him, he thanked

36:03

me, laid

36:06

back down and

36:08

replaced his hat. I

36:14

chuckled again as

36:17

I paddled down the canal,

36:22

wondering how long he'd slept.

36:27

And if he'd made it to the inn

36:31

before the sandwiches and

36:35

spritzes were all gone, the

36:40

canal was shady

36:43

but seemed almost dark

36:48

after being on the open water. Tall

36:55

willows, their

36:58

leafy trellises drooping into

37:01

the water, lined

37:05

either side, making

37:09

a canopy of

37:11

thick leaves. And

37:15

I noticed more birdsong as

37:18

I went deeper in. On

37:24

a few back porches, I

37:26

spotted folks sitting out, enjoying

37:30

the day. And

37:34

between strokes of the oar, I

37:38

raised a hand to wave. The

37:45

canal curved and

37:48

I followed it. I

37:51

imagined myself an

37:55

explorer finding

37:58

a path. through

38:01

an unknown land. There

38:06

were dragonflies skimming

38:10

over the surface of

38:12

the canal. And

38:16

when they passed through a patch

38:19

of sunlight, their

38:22

iridescent blue

38:25

bodies shimmered. I

38:31

wondered if anyone

38:33

else in the world was

38:37

seeing or feeling what

38:40

I was at the moment. A

38:45

club of canal

38:47

paddlers on

38:50

waters up and down the

38:53

continents. Watching

38:57

pretty winged insects and

39:02

listening to a breeze ruffling

39:05

through leaves. Looking

39:09

forward to a

39:12

swim soon and

39:15

a nap as the

39:17

day got warmer. I

39:23

liked that idea of a club

39:26

of humans scattered

39:29

over the globe. Their

39:34

membership being a few

39:37

minutes of

39:39

similar experience. I

39:45

switched my oar to the

39:47

other side and

39:50

kept paddling. Sweet

39:55

dreams.