0:01

Welcome to bedtime stories

0:03

for grown ups in

0:05

which nothing much happens,

0:08

You feel good, and then

0:11

you fall asleep. I'm

0:14

Katherine Nikolay. I

0:16

write and read all the stories

0:18

you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

0:21

Audio Engineering is by Bob

0:23

Wittersheim. My

0:26

book, also called Nothing

0:29

Much Happens, is available wherever

0:31

books are sold. Thank

0:34

you for your support. Now

0:39

I have a story to tell you, and

0:42

the story is a place to rest

0:44

your mind. Especially

0:46

at night, our minds can feel

0:49

so busy and overloaded,

0:54

like an overwhelmed clock. Just

0:58

by following along my voice and

1:01

the general shape of the story, your

1:05

mind can passively unwind,

1:09

and soon you'll be ticking along at your own

1:11

natural pace, sleeping

1:14

deeply and waking up

1:16

feeling rested and relaxed.

1:21

I'll tell the story twice,

1:23

and I'll go a little slower on the second

1:26

read through. If

1:28

you wake in the middle of the night and

1:31

feel your mind winding

1:33

back up, you

1:35

could listen again or

1:39

just think your way through any part of

1:41

the story you remember, or

1:44

even any soothing memory. It

1:48

will shift networks in your brain

1:52

and help you to drop right back off. This,

1:57

like most anything, gets better

1:59

with practice, so

2:02

be patient. If you are new to it. Our

2:06

story tonight is called

2:09

the Tulip Farm, and

2:11

it's a story about a bright spring

2:14

day among

2:16

beds of flowers. It's

2:20

also about a gift left

2:22

at dawn, red

2:24

winged blackbirds, and

2:28

soft moments that take

2:30

your breath away.

2:35

Now it's time

2:37

to turn off the light and

2:39

put away anything you are looking at.

2:44

Settle into your favorite sleeping position,

2:48

and feel how good it is just

2:50

to be safe and quiet

2:53

in bed. You

2:56

have done enough for today.

3:00

It's time to rest. Take

3:03

a deep breath in through your

3:05

nose, sigh

3:10

it out through your mouth, nice

3:16

again, in and

3:22

out. Good.

3:31

The tulip farm, out

3:35

past the apple orchards and

3:37

cider mills where

3:40

we went to get lost in corn mazes

3:44

and buy paper bags of

3:46

fresh hot doughnuts in

3:49

the crisp days of autumn, was

3:53

a tulip farm. It

3:57

was something I'd driven past a

3:59

hundred times without

4:02

realizing what it was. Then

4:06

to day I'd seen

4:08

a hand painted sign of

4:12

a red tulip on

4:14

a yellow background

4:18

with an arrow pointing the way. The

4:22

sign said they were open to the public

4:26

and folks were welcome to come and

4:29

pick their own. The

4:32

tulip had reminded me suddenly

4:35

of a day a dozen years

4:37

before. It

4:40

had been the first day of May,

4:44

and I'd opened my front door to

4:47

find a simple wicker basket

4:49

hanging from the outside knob. It

4:56

was overflowing with bright

4:58

red tulips and

5:00

foil wrapped sweets, and

5:03

tiny delicate stems

5:07

of lilies of the valley. I

5:10

remember lifting the basket

5:13

right up to my face to

5:15

smell the good sweet scent

5:18

of the flowers, then

5:22

wondering how and why

5:24

they'd been picked for me. It

5:28

had taken me a day to

5:30

unwind the mystery. I'd

5:34

carried everything back inside

5:37

and rooted through my cabinets for

5:40

a bunch of tiny jars and

5:43

bud vases. I

5:46

put each flower in

5:48

its own container to

5:51

make them go as far as possible,

5:55

then spread them out through the house on

5:58

window sills and side

6:00

tables, and

6:02

a teeny ledge in the hall that

6:06

seemed to have been built just

6:09

for this. I

6:11

went back to the basket and

6:14

carefully gathered all the candies

6:17

and slid them into my jacket pocket,

6:20

then stepped back out of the front

6:22

door and off down

6:25

the street. I

6:28

don't remember now where

6:31

I'd been going. Maybe

6:35

I had a class to take or

6:38

a shift to work at the Delhi downtown,

6:43

but along the way, every

6:46

now and then, I'd

6:48

slip a candy from my pocket, unwrap

6:52

it, and drop it into my

6:55

mouth. There

6:57

were some wrapped to look

7:00

like strawberries, and

7:03

I remembered that my grandmother had

7:05

always had the same ones on

7:08

a shelf in her sitting room. I'd

7:13

laughed when I'd tasted the familiar

7:15

flavor, remembering

7:18

sneaking into that room to

7:22

peruse the little collection of sweets

7:25

and cut glass jars. It

7:30

was the kind of sitting room no

7:33

one actually sat in, and

7:37

that meant there were always interesting

7:39

things to find in the drawers and

7:42

cupboards. I

7:46

used to take a few candies from the jars,

7:49

pull down a heavy book with

7:52

pictures of butterflies and

7:55

birds and animals

7:57

from all over the world, and

8:01

tuck myself into the space

8:04

behind the couch to

8:07

slowly turn the pages until

8:11

the suites ran out. Wherever

8:15

I'd been off to that day, I

8:18

must have run into friends, and

8:22

soon found out I

8:25

wasn't the only one to have

8:27

been visited by

8:29

the spring ferry. Overnight. Three

8:35

or four of us had found baskets,

8:39

all with flowers and candy,

8:44

and we'd spent some time on a park bench

8:46

in the sunshine

8:49

trying to guess who our

8:51

benefactor was. Finally,

8:57

we'd spotted another friend coming

8:59

towards us down the path, and

9:03

we'd called out, asking

9:06

if she'd found a surprise on

9:08

her doorstep. No,

9:12

she shrugged, I was busy

9:14

leaving them for all of you. May

9:20

Day, she told us, was

9:23

sometimes celebrated this way with

9:26

gifts of spring flowers and

9:29

candies or baked

9:31

goods. Thinking

9:34

back on that May Day, the

9:38

kindness of a gift given

9:41

when no one was looking, and

9:45

the memories that the sweets

9:47

had brought back, made

9:50

me turn into the gravel

9:52

lot at the tulip

9:54

farm.

9:58

Stepping out of my car, I

10:01

was greeted by the lilting call

10:04

of the song sparrow, a

10:09

bird whose return, along

10:12

with that of the red winged blackbird

10:15

and the orange breasted house finch,

10:19

marked the arrival of spring. The

10:24

sky was a soft, pale

10:27

blue,

10:29

with a few feathery clouds

10:32

shifting in the breeze.

10:37

Two lips don't have a strong

10:40

smell. They

10:44

aren't like those lilies of

10:46

the valley or

10:48

hyacinth, but

10:51

smells so powerfully like sweet

10:53

water and greenery,

10:59

but still there

11:01

was a light scent in the air, like

11:04

citrus and

11:06

honey and

11:08

cut grass. I

11:13

followed a dirt trail toward the

11:15

fields, glad

11:17

I'd worn sturdy shoes instead

11:20

of flip flops, and

11:24

as it turned to pass behind

11:27

a barn, the

11:29

tulip fields came into

11:31

view. I

11:35

thought I'd been ready for that, but

11:39

I wasn't. Actual

11:43

goose bumps stood

11:45

out on my arms, and

11:49

I stopped stock still

11:53

to give all my attention to

11:56

what I was seeing. Stretching

12:01

out for acres in front

12:03

of me and

12:06

broad, flat, even

12:08

rectangles were

12:12

bright patches in fifty

12:15

colors, or more

12:19

like a panoramic picture.

12:23

I turned my head to

12:25

see the farthest field to the

12:28

left, then

12:31

slowly scanned all

12:34

the way to the right, and

12:37

marveled that

12:39

tulips could come in

12:42

so many shades. When

12:47

I had had my fill of looking

12:51

and began to walk again, I

12:55

spotted a man in

12:57

dusty overalls

13:00

with a broad brimmed hat.

13:05

He waved me over, and

13:09

as I got closer, he said,

13:15

I like watching people's faces

13:18

as they first see the fields.

13:23

Have you been here before? I

13:27

told him I hadn't, and felt

13:29

lucky to be. He

13:34

fitted me out with a pair of gloves,

13:37

some small garden shears,

13:41

and a long, deep basket

13:43

I could carry over one arm. He

13:48

gave me a folded paper map

13:52

with the names of the different

13:54

varieties of flowers and

13:57

their locations,

14:00

then sent me off to gather as

14:02

many as I was inclined to

14:05

cut.

14:08

I thought I might just wander

14:12

and be led by my eyes and

14:15

instincts. But

14:18

looking at the card I

14:22

found some of the names

14:24

so intriguing that

14:27

I decided to aim for

14:29

some specific plots.

14:34

Some were classic in shape and

14:36

color, called

14:39

things like Christmas, Marvel,

14:43

or Ruby Red or

14:45

Diana. Others

14:50

were streaked with color in

14:52

bold lines that looked

14:55

like brushstrokes. There

14:59

were Rembrands and Davenports

15:02

and Marylands. Some

15:07

had double blossoms or

15:09

fringed petals, or

15:13

very thin veins of color

15:17

that you could only see when

15:19

you leaned down close. Into

15:25

my basket went stems

15:27

of the Queen of Night, Golden

15:32

Apple, Dorn, and

15:34

Dreamland. I

15:38

picked enough for a few May

15:41

Day baskets and

15:43

to fill my own vase at

15:45

home, before

15:50

I walked back to the barn to

15:53

pay for my flowers and

15:55

turn over my tools.

15:59

I stopped and sat at a

16:01

bench under

16:03

a tall sycamore tree

16:07

whose leaves were just budding

16:09

out,

16:13

so that the branches looked

16:15

coated in a light

16:18

green haze.

16:22

I thought of the baskets I

16:25

would put together with my

16:27

tulips, of

16:30

stopping at the candy store across

16:33

from the movie theater and

16:37

filling a bag with sweet

16:39

pin wheels and

16:42

tart lemon drops and

16:45

strawberry bonbonds.

16:50

I'd sneak out early to morrow

16:52

morning and

16:55

leave them at a few front

16:57

doors, that

17:01

their faces and finding

17:03

them might

17:05

look something like mine did when

17:09

I'd first seen the tulip

17:11

fields surprise

17:16

its spring. The

17:21

tulip farm out

17:27

past the apple orchards and

17:30

cider mills where

17:34

we went to get lost in

17:36

corn mazes and

17:40

buy bags full of

17:42

fresh hot doughnuts

17:46

in the crisp days of autumn was

17:52

a tulip farm. It

17:56

was something I'd driven past a

17:59

hundred times

18:02

without realizing what it was.

18:08

Then today I'd

18:11

seen a hand painted sign

18:15

of a red tulip on

18:18

a yellow background with

18:21

an arrow pointing the way.

18:27

The sign said they

18:29

were open to the public and

18:33

folks were welcome to come

18:37

and pick their own the

18:41

tulip had reminded me

18:44

suddenly of

18:47

a day a dozen years

18:49

before. It

18:53

had been the first day of

18:55

May, and

18:59

I'd opened my front door to

19:03

find a simple wicker

19:05

basket hanging

19:08

from the outside knob. It

19:13

was overflowing with

19:16

bright red tulips

19:20

and foil wrapped sweets,

19:24

and tiny delicate

19:26

stems of lilies

19:28

of the valley.

19:33

I remember lifting the basket

19:36

right up to my face to

19:40

smell the good, sweet scent

19:43

of the flowers, then

19:47

wondering how and

19:50

why they'd been

19:52

picked for me. It

19:57

had taken me a day to

20:00

unwind the mystery. I've

20:05

carried everything back inside

20:10

and rooted through my cabinets

20:14

for a bunch of tiny

20:16

jars and

20:18

bud faces. I

20:23

put each flower in

20:25

its own container to

20:29

make them go as far

20:31

as possible, then

20:35

spread them out through the

20:38

house on

20:40

window sills and

20:42

side tables, and

20:46

a teeny ledge in the hall

20:51

that seem'd to have been built

20:54

just for this. I

20:59

went back to the basket and

21:02

carefully gathered all the candies.

21:07

I'd slid them into my jacket

21:09

pocket, then

21:13

stepped back out of

21:15

the front door and

21:18

off down the street.

21:23

I don't remember now where

21:26

I'd been going. Maybe

21:30

I had a class to take or

21:34

a shift to work at

21:36

the deli downtown. But

21:41

along the way, every

21:45

now and then, I'd

21:48

slip a candy from my pocket,

21:53

unwrap it, and

21:56

drop it into my mouth. There

22:00

were some wrapped

22:04

to look like strawberries, and

22:10

I'd remembered that

22:12

my grandmother had

22:14

always had the same ones

22:18

on a shelf in her sitting room.

22:23

I'd laughed when I'd tasted

22:26

the familiar flavor, remembering

22:32

sneaking into that room to

22:35

peruse the little collection

22:38

of sweets and

22:40

cut glass jars. It

22:45

was the kind of sitting room no

22:48

one actually sat in,

22:52

and that meant there were always

22:55

interesting things to

22:58

find in the drawers and

23:01

cupboards. I

23:05

used to take a few candies

23:07

from the jars, pulled

23:11

down a heavy book with

23:14

pictures of butterflies and

23:17

birds and animals

23:20

from all over the world, and

23:25

tuck myself into the space

23:28

behind the couch to

23:32

slowly turn the pages until

23:36

the sweets ran out.

23:40

Wherever I'd been off to that

23:43

day, I

23:46

must have run into friends, and

23:51

soon found out I

23:54

wasn't the only one

23:57

to have been visited by

23:59

the Spring Fairy. Overnight,

24:05

three or four of us had

24:07

found baskets, all

24:11

with flowers and candy,

24:16

and we'd spent some time on

24:18

a park bench in the sunshine

24:23

trying to guess who our

24:25

benefactor was. Finally,

24:32

we'd spotted another friend

24:35

coming toward us, and

24:39

we'd called out, asking

24:43

if she'd found a surprise on

24:46

her doorstep. No,

24:50

she shrugged, I

24:52

was busy leaving them

24:55

for all of you. May

24:59

Day, she told us, was

25:02

sometimes celebrated this

25:04

way with

25:07

gifts of spring flowers

25:10

and candies or

25:12

baked goods. Thinking

25:17

back on that May Day,

25:21

the kindness of

25:23

a gift given when

25:26

no one was looking, and

25:30

the memories that the sweets had

25:32

brought back had

25:36

made me turn into the gravel

25:38

lot with the tulip

25:40

farm. Stepping

25:45

out of my car, I

25:49

was greeted by the lilting call

25:52

of the song sparrow, a

25:57

bird whose return, along

26:01

with that of the red winged blackbird

26:06

and the orange breasted house finch,

26:10

marked the arrival of spring.

26:16

The sky was a soft, pale

26:19

blue, with

26:21

a few feathery clouds shifting

26:26

in the breeze.

26:30

Tulips don't have a

26:33

strong smell. They

26:38

aren't like those lilies

26:40

of the valley or

26:42

hyacinth that

26:45

smell so powerfully, like

26:49

sweet water and

26:52

greenery.

26:56

But still there

26:58

was a light scent in the like

27:02

citrus and

27:05

honey and

27:08

cut grass. I

27:13

followed a dirt trail toward

27:16

the fields, glad

27:20

I'd worn sturdy shoes instead

27:23

of flip flops, and

27:29

as it turned to pass behind

27:31

a barn, the

27:33

tulip fields came

27:36

into view. I

27:40

thought I'd been ready for

27:42

that. I

27:45

wasn't. Actual

27:50

goose bumps stood

27:52

out on my arms,

27:57

and I stopped stuckll

28:02

to give all my attention to

28:06

what I was seeing. Stretching

28:11

out for acres in

28:13

front of me in

28:16

broad, flat

28:19

even rectangles were

28:23

bright patches and fifty

28:25

colors, or more

28:31

like a panoramic picture. I

28:35

turned my head to

28:37

see the farthest field to

28:40

the left, then

28:44

slowly scanned all

28:47

the way to the right, and

28:52

marveled that

28:54

tulips could come in

28:58

so many shades. When

29:02

I'd had my fill of

29:05

looking and

29:07

began to walk again, I

29:11

spotted a man in

29:14

dusty overalls

29:18

with a broad brimmed

29:20

hat. He

29:24

waved me over, and

29:28

as I got closer, he

29:31

said, I

29:34

like watching people's faces

29:38

as they first see the fields.

29:43

Have you been here before? I

29:48

told him that I hadn't and

29:52

felt lucky to be. He

29:57

fitted me out with

29:59

a pain air of gloves, some

30:04

small garden shears,

30:09

and a long, deep basket

30:13

I could carry over one arm.

30:19

He gave me a folded

30:22

paper map with

30:25

the names of the different

30:28

varieties of flowers and

30:32

their locations, then

30:36

sent me off to gather

30:38

as many as I was inclined

30:41

to cut. I

30:46

thought I might just

30:49

wander and

30:51

be led by my eyes and

30:54

instincts. But

30:58

looking at the map I

31:01

found some of the names so

31:04

intriguing that

31:07

I decided to aim for

31:10

some specific spots.

31:16

Some tulips were classic

31:19

in shape and color,

31:24

called things like

31:27

Christmas Marvel, or

31:30

ruby red or

31:34

Diana. Others

31:39

were streaked with color

31:42

in bold lines that

31:45

looked like brushstrokes.

31:51

There were Rembrandts and

31:54

Davenport's and

31:57

Marylands.

32:02

Some had double blossoms or

32:06

fringed petals, or

32:10

very thin veins of color

32:15

that you could only see

32:18

when you leaned down close into

32:24

my basket when stems

32:27

of the Queen of Night, Golden

32:32

Apple, Dorn, and

32:34

Dreamland. I

32:39

picked enough for

32:41

a few may Day baskets

32:46

and to fill my own vase

32:49

at home, before

32:54

I walked back to the

32:57

barn to

32:59

pay for my flowers and

33:02

turn over my tools.

33:05

I stopped and

33:08

sat on a bench under

33:11

a tall sycamore tree

33:15

whose leaves were just budding

33:18

out, so

33:20

that the branches looked coated

33:24

in a light green haze.

33:30

I thought of the baskets I

33:33

would put together with

33:35

my tulips, of

33:39

stopping at the candy store across

33:42

from the movie theater and

33:46

filling a bag with sweet

33:49

pin wheels and

33:52

tart lemon drops and

33:56

strawberry bonbonds. I'd

34:02

sneak out early to morrow morning

34:06

and leave them at a few

34:08

front doors. I

34:13

thought that their faces

34:15

and finding them might

34:19

look something like

34:21

mine dead when

34:24

I'd first seen the tulip

34:27

fields. Surprise,

34:32

It's spring, Sweet

34:37

dreams.