June 26, 2018 • 19 mins
Our story tonight is called "Summer Vacation" and it’s a story about the feeling of freedom and having lots of time ahead of you to do what you like. It’s also about planning sweet things with someone special, the fresh harvest of the late summer, and enjoying the sights along the way.
So get cozy and ready to sleep.
This episode mentions alcohol.
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-Happens
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Welcome to Bedtime Stories for grown ups, in which nothing
much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
All stories are written and read by me Catherin Nikolay,
(00:21):
with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We only have a
few stories left in this our first season of nothing
Much Happens, so be sure to subscribe now so you
don't miss a single episode of our next season, which
will come out in the fall of this year. I
(00:44):
have so many stories to tell you about walks through
apple orchards and breathing crisp autumn air and roasting pumpkin seeds,
stories about Thanksgiving leftovers and watching the snowfall and twinkle
lights by the fire. If you enjoy our stories, please
(01:10):
share them any way you can with anyone you know
who likes relaxation and good sleep, and follow us on
Facebook and Instagram for some extra coziness. Now let me
say a bit about how to use this podcast. I'm
(01:32):
about to tell you a bedtime story, and the story
is like a soft landing spot for your mind. Rather
than letting your brain race through the same thoughts that
you've been chasing all day, we are taking a detour
to a calm and cozy place. I'll tell the story twice,
(01:58):
and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
If you find that you are still awake at the
end of the second telling, not to worry. That's just fine.
Just walk yourself back through any of the details you remember,
and before you know it, you'll be waking up tomorrow
(02:21):
feeling relaxed and refreshed. This is a kind of brain training,
and the more you do it, the faster you will
fall asleep, So be patient if you are new to this.
Now it's time to turn off the light, take one
(02:45):
last sip of water, and snuggle down into your favorite
sleeping position. Get your pillow in the perfect spot, and
take a slow, deep breath in through your nose and
out through your mouth. Nice. Do that one more time,
(03:11):
Breathe in and out. Good. Our story tonight is called
Summer Vacation, and it's a story about the feeling of
freedom and having lots of time ahead of you to
(03:32):
do what you like. It's also about planning sweet things
with someone special, the fresh harvest of late summer, and
enjoying the sights along the way. We rolled the windows
down and stuck our arms out into the sunshine. We
(03:55):
had a whole week of vacation ahead of us, whole
week by the water in a little rented cottage with
a porch swing and a big soft bed. We were
looking forward to good meals, sleeping, late, laziness, and the beach.
(04:19):
We'd gotten up early, excited to start, but then remembering
that we were on vacation and didn't need to rush.
We'd laid in bed and sipped our coffees and made
plans for a week of doing whatever we wanted. Finally,
in the mid morning, we'd loaded our beach chairs and
(04:42):
coolers into the car and started out. The weather was fair,
with bright blue skies and temperatures in the low eighties.
We found some music to sing along to, and I,
in the passenger seat, leaned back and watched the scenery
roll by. We took back roads mostly I took a
(05:08):
little longer, but it was prettier and we were in
no hurry. We passed through little down towns nosily, looked
into the store windows and made up stories about the
people in line at the bakery were stepping out of
the post office. We drove past farms, the crops high
(05:30):
in the summer sun, and saw old red barns crumbling
and falling over in the fields. They looked like shipwrecks
in the pristine pastures, and I wondered what they had
looked like when they were first built, and who the
people were who had built them. We pointed out horses
(05:53):
running in a paddock, cows grazing on the top of
a hill, and cranes balancing on their stick thin legs
in ponds and marshes. We stopped in a familiar diner
for lunch. I think we'd been here the year before.
We ate sandwiches and looked out of the windows at
(06:15):
the cars going by, then ordered pieces of pie and
more coffee, and finally got back on the road. We
were getting closer now and caught glimpses of water through
the trees. We eagerly leaned our heads out of the
windows and took deep breaths and turned to each other
(06:35):
to say, can you smell the lake? There was a
farm market on a corner, and we pulled in to
see what was fresh. We'd packed some food for the week,
but mostly just things like coffee, beans and veggie burgers
and a shocking amount of licorice. We knew that the
(06:59):
local fruit and vegetables would be better than the supermarket fair,
so now we stalked up. We bought baskets of fresh
tomatoes and a dozen years of corn. They had ripe
peaches that you could smell as soon as you got
out of the car red potatoes that were still dusty
(07:20):
from the field, and a giant cabbage as big around
as a cannon ball. We bought cucumbers for salads, and
asparagus for the grill, and ripe cantelope and strawberries for snacks.
They had fresh herbs bundled and tied with twine, rosemary, basil, thyme, chives,
(07:46):
and a nosegay of lavender, which I added to my
basket just because it smelled good. They had a few
loaves of home baked bread and jars of jams and salsas.
There was a whole table of pickled things, and my
mouth watered as I stood in front of it, reading
(08:07):
labels crunchy dill pickles, sweet bread and butter pickles, and
spicy pickled cauliflower and okra. They had sacks of roasted
nuts and toasted sunflower seeds. We bought a lot and
gossiped with the owner for a while. Then we were
(08:27):
back in the car, and after a day of lazy boondoggling,
we were suddenly anxious to get to our little cottage.
The gravel crackled under our tires as we pulled into
the drive, and we left everything behind us in the
car and rushed to see the view, catching each other's hands.
(08:50):
We stood by the lake for a while, just smelling
the fresh water and listening to the birds calling to
each other. We strolled around the yard, noticing the flowers
and the hostas, whose wide ridged leaves still held due
from the night before. I spotted a patch of black
(09:12):
eyed Susans and planned to come out later with the
kitchen scissors to make a bouquet for our bedside. There
were a couple old bikes with dusty seats but full tires,
leaned up against a shed. We found the key under
a flower pot and unlocked the door. The place was
(09:35):
small and sweet, and we opened the windows and let
the fresh air in. We poked around, moving from room
to room. There was a stack of puzzles and board games,
and a few decks of weathered cards. There were funny
old pictures on the walls, and the cupboards held a
(09:57):
varied collection of mismatched cup and plates from fifty plus
years of meals. We loved it. The bags came in,
the coolers were emptied into the fridge, and the peaches
were tipped into an old chip bowl on the table.
What now, whatever we like? A cold beer, a mystery novel.
(10:25):
There's a hammock under that tree. It looks big enough
for two. Let's do that. We rolled the windows down
and stuck our arms out into the sunshine. We had
(10:49):
a whole week of vacation ahead of us, a whole
week by the water in a little rented cottage with
a porch swing and a big soft bed. We were
looking forward to good meals, sleeping, late laziness, and the beach.
(11:16):
We've gotten up early, excited to start, but then remembering
that we were on vacation and didn't need to rush.
We'd lay in bed and sipped our coffees and made
plans for a week of doing whatever we wanted. Finally,
(11:38):
in the mid morning, we'd loaded our beach chairs and
coolers into the car and started out. The weather was fair,
with bright blue skies and temperatures in the low eighties.
We found some music to sing along too, and I
(12:02):
in the passenger seat, leaned back and watched the scenery
roll by. We took back roads mostly. It took a
little longer, but it was prettier and we were in
no hurry. We passed through little downtowns nosily, looked into
(12:30):
the store windows and made up stories about the people
in line at the bakery or stepping out of the
post office. We drove past farms, the crops high in
the summer sun, and saw old red barns crumbling and
(12:52):
falling over in the fields. They looked like shipwrecks in
the pristine pastures, and I wondered what they had looked
like when they were first built, and who the people
were who had built them. We pointed out horses running
(13:15):
in a paddock, cows grazing on the top of a hill,
and cranes balancing on their stick thin legs in ponds
and marshes. We stopped in a familiar diner for lunch.
(13:36):
I think we'd been here the year before. We ate
sandwiches and looked out of the windows the cars going by.
Then ordered pieces of pie and more coffee, and finally
got back on the road. We were getting closer now
(14:00):
and caught glimpses of water through the trees. We eagerly
leaned our heads out of the windows and took deep
breaths and turned to each other to say, can you
smell the lake? There was a farm market on a corner,
(14:24):
and we pulled in to see what was fresh. We'd
packed some food for the week, but mostly just things
like coffee beans and veggie burgers, and a shocking amount
of liquorice. We knew that the local fruit and vegetables
would be better than the supermarket fair, so we stalked up.
(14:51):
We bought baskets of fresh tomatoes and a dozen years
of corn. They had ripe peaches that you could smell
as soon as you got out of the car red
potatoes that were still dusty from the field, and a
giant cabbage as big around as a cannon ball. We
(15:14):
bought cucumbers for salads, and asparagus for the grill, and
ripe cantaloupes and strawberries for snacks. They had fresh herbs
bundled and tied with twine, rosemary, basil, thyme, chives, and
(15:36):
a nosegay of lavender, which I added to my basket
just because it smelled so good. They had a few
loaves of home baked bread and jars of jams and salsas.
There was a whole table of pickled things, and my
(15:58):
mouth watered as I stood in to fit, reading labels
crunchy dill pickles, sweet bread and butter pickles, and spicy
pickled cauliflower and okrah. They had secs of roasted nuts
(16:18):
and toasted sunflower seeds. We bought a lot and gossiped
with the owner for a while. Then we were back
in the car, and after a day of lazy boondoggling,
we were suddenly anxious to get to our little cottage.
(16:41):
The gravel crackled under our tires as we pulled into
the drive, and we left everything behind us in the
car and rushed to see the view, catching each other's hands.
We stood by the lake for ah, just smelling the
(17:02):
fresh water and listening to the birds calling to each other.
We strolled around the yard, noticing the flowers and the hostas,
whose wide ridged leaves still held dew from the night before.
I spotted a patch of black eyed Susans and planned
(17:25):
to come out later with the kitchen scissors to make
a bouquet for our bedside. There were a couple old
bikes with dusty seats but full tires, leaned up against
a shed. We found the key under a flower pot
and unlocked the door. The place was small and sweet,
(17:51):
and we opened the windows and let the fresh air in.
We poked around, moving from room to room. There was
a stack of puzzles and board games, and a few
decks of weathered cards. There were funny old pictures on
(18:12):
the walls, and the cupboards held a varied collection of
mismatched cups and plates from fifty plus years of meals.
We loved it. The bags came in, the coolers were
emptied into the fridge, and the peaches were tipped into
an old, chipped bowl on the table. What now, whatever?
(18:38):
We like a cold beer, a mystery novel. There's a
hammock under that tree. It looks big enough for two.
Let's do that, sweet e
Welcome to Bedtime Stories for grown ups, in which nothing
much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
All stories are written and read by me Catherin Nikolay,
(00:21):
with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We only have a
few stories left in this our first season of nothing
Much Happens, so be sure to subscribe now so you
don't miss a single episode of our next season, which
will come out in the fall of this year. I
(00:44):
have so many stories to tell you about walks through
apple orchards and breathing crisp autumn air and roasting pumpkin seeds,
stories about Thanksgiving leftovers and watching the snowfall and twinkle
lights by the fire. If you enjoy our stories, please
(01:10):
share them any way you can with anyone you know
who likes relaxation and good sleep, and follow us on
Facebook and Instagram for some extra coziness. Now let me
say a bit about how to use this podcast. I'm
(01:32):
about to tell you a bedtime story, and the story
is like a soft landing spot for your mind. Rather
than letting your brain race through the same thoughts that
you've been chasing all day, we are taking a detour
to a calm and cozy place. I'll tell the story twice,
(01:58):
and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
If you find that you are still awake at the
end of the second telling, not to worry. That's just fine.
Just walk yourself back through any of the details you remember,
and before you know it, you'll be waking up tomorrow
(02:21):
feeling relaxed and refreshed. This is a kind of brain training,
and the more you do it, the faster you will
fall asleep, So be patient if you are new to this.
Now it's time to turn off the light, take one
(02:45):
last sip of water, and snuggle down into your favorite
sleeping position. Get your pillow in the perfect spot, and
take a slow, deep breath in through your nose and
out through your mouth. Nice. Do that one more time,
(03:11):
Breathe in and out. Good. Our story tonight is called
Summer Vacation, and it's a story about the feeling of
freedom and having lots of time ahead of you to
(03:32):
do what you like. It's also about planning sweet things
with someone special, the fresh harvest of late summer, and
enjoying the sights along the way. We rolled the windows
down and stuck our arms out into the sunshine. We
(03:55):
had a whole week of vacation ahead of us, whole
week by the water in a little rented cottage with
a porch swing and a big soft bed. We were
looking forward to good meals, sleeping, late, laziness, and the beach.
(04:19):
We'd gotten up early, excited to start, but then remembering
that we were on vacation and didn't need to rush.
We'd laid in bed and sipped our coffees and made
plans for a week of doing whatever we wanted. Finally,
in the mid morning, we'd loaded our beach chairs and
(04:42):
coolers into the car and started out. The weather was fair,
with bright blue skies and temperatures in the low eighties.
We found some music to sing along to, and I,
in the passenger seat, leaned back and watched the scenery
roll by. We took back roads mostly I took a
(05:08):
little longer, but it was prettier and we were in
no hurry. We passed through little down towns nosily, looked
into the store windows and made up stories about the
people in line at the bakery were stepping out of
the post office. We drove past farms, the crops high
(05:30):
in the summer sun, and saw old red barns crumbling
and falling over in the fields. They looked like shipwrecks
in the pristine pastures, and I wondered what they had
looked like when they were first built, and who the
people were who had built them. We pointed out horses
(05:53):
running in a paddock, cows grazing on the top of
a hill, and cranes balancing on their stick thin legs
in ponds and marshes. We stopped in a familiar diner
for lunch. I think we'd been here the year before.
We ate sandwiches and looked out of the windows at
(06:15):
the cars going by, then ordered pieces of pie and
more coffee, and finally got back on the road. We
were getting closer now and caught glimpses of water through
the trees. We eagerly leaned our heads out of the
windows and took deep breaths and turned to each other
(06:35):
to say, can you smell the lake? There was a
farm market on a corner, and we pulled in to
see what was fresh. We'd packed some food for the week,
but mostly just things like coffee, beans and veggie burgers
and a shocking amount of licorice. We knew that the
(06:59):
local fruit and vegetables would be better than the supermarket fair,
so now we stalked up. We bought baskets of fresh
tomatoes and a dozen years of corn. They had ripe
peaches that you could smell as soon as you got
out of the car red potatoes that were still dusty
(07:20):
from the field, and a giant cabbage as big around
as a cannon ball. We bought cucumbers for salads, and
asparagus for the grill, and ripe cantelope and strawberries for snacks.
They had fresh herbs bundled and tied with twine, rosemary, basil, thyme, chives,
(07:46):
and a nosegay of lavender, which I added to my
basket just because it smelled good. They had a few
loaves of home baked bread and jars of jams and salsas.
There was a whole table of pickled things, and my
mouth watered as I stood in front of it, reading
(08:07):
labels crunchy dill pickles, sweet bread and butter pickles, and
spicy pickled cauliflower and okra. They had sacks of roasted
nuts and toasted sunflower seeds. We bought a lot and
gossiped with the owner for a while. Then we were
(08:27):
back in the car, and after a day of lazy boondoggling,
we were suddenly anxious to get to our little cottage.
The gravel crackled under our tires as we pulled into
the drive, and we left everything behind us in the
car and rushed to see the view, catching each other's hands.
(08:50):
We stood by the lake for a while, just smelling
the fresh water and listening to the birds calling to
each other. We strolled around the yard, noticing the flowers
and the hostas, whose wide ridged leaves still held due
from the night before. I spotted a patch of black
(09:12):
eyed Susans and planned to come out later with the
kitchen scissors to make a bouquet for our bedside. There
were a couple old bikes with dusty seats but full tires,
leaned up against a shed. We found the key under
a flower pot and unlocked the door. The place was
(09:35):
small and sweet, and we opened the windows and let
the fresh air in. We poked around, moving from room
to room. There was a stack of puzzles and board games,
and a few decks of weathered cards. There were funny
old pictures on the walls, and the cupboards held a
(09:57):
varied collection of mismatched cup and plates from fifty plus
years of meals. We loved it. The bags came in,
the coolers were emptied into the fridge, and the peaches
were tipped into an old chip bowl on the table.
What now, whatever we like? A cold beer, a mystery novel.
(10:25):
There's a hammock under that tree. It looks big enough
for two. Let's do that. We rolled the windows down
and stuck our arms out into the sunshine. We had
(10:49):
a whole week of vacation ahead of us, a whole
week by the water in a little rented cottage with
a porch swing and a big soft bed. We were
looking forward to good meals, sleeping, late laziness, and the beach.
(11:16):
We've gotten up early, excited to start, but then remembering
that we were on vacation and didn't need to rush.
We'd lay in bed and sipped our coffees and made
plans for a week of doing whatever we wanted. Finally,
(11:38):
in the mid morning, we'd loaded our beach chairs and
coolers into the car and started out. The weather was fair,
with bright blue skies and temperatures in the low eighties.
We found some music to sing along too, and I
(12:02):
in the passenger seat, leaned back and watched the scenery
roll by. We took back roads mostly. It took a
little longer, but it was prettier and we were in
no hurry. We passed through little downtowns nosily, looked into
(12:30):
the store windows and made up stories about the people
in line at the bakery or stepping out of the
post office. We drove past farms, the crops high in
the summer sun, and saw old red barns crumbling and
(12:52):
falling over in the fields. They looked like shipwrecks in
the pristine pastures, and I wondered what they had looked
like when they were first built, and who the people
were who had built them. We pointed out horses running
(13:15):
in a paddock, cows grazing on the top of a hill,
and cranes balancing on their stick thin legs in ponds
and marshes. We stopped in a familiar diner for lunch.
(13:36):
I think we'd been here the year before. We ate
sandwiches and looked out of the windows the cars going by.
Then ordered pieces of pie and more coffee, and finally
got back on the road. We were getting closer now
(14:00):
and caught glimpses of water through the trees. We eagerly
leaned our heads out of the windows and took deep
breaths and turned to each other to say, can you
smell the lake? There was a farm market on a corner,
(14:24):
and we pulled in to see what was fresh. We'd
packed some food for the week, but mostly just things
like coffee beans and veggie burgers, and a shocking amount
of liquorice. We knew that the local fruit and vegetables
would be better than the supermarket fair, so we stalked up.
(14:51):
We bought baskets of fresh tomatoes and a dozen years
of corn. They had ripe peaches that you could smell
as soon as you got out of the car red
potatoes that were still dusty from the field, and a
giant cabbage as big around as a cannon ball. We
(15:14):
bought cucumbers for salads, and asparagus for the grill, and
ripe cantaloupes and strawberries for snacks. They had fresh herbs
bundled and tied with twine, rosemary, basil, thyme, chives, and
(15:36):
a nosegay of lavender, which I added to my basket
just because it smelled so good. They had a few
loaves of home baked bread and jars of jams and salsas.
There was a whole table of pickled things, and my
(15:58):
mouth watered as I stood in to fit, reading labels
crunchy dill pickles, sweet bread and butter pickles, and spicy
pickled cauliflower and okrah. They had secs of roasted nuts
(16:18):
and toasted sunflower seeds. We bought a lot and gossiped
with the owner for a while. Then we were back
in the car, and after a day of lazy boondoggling,
we were suddenly anxious to get to our little cottage.
(16:41):
The gravel crackled under our tires as we pulled into
the drive, and we left everything behind us in the
car and rushed to see the view, catching each other's hands.
We stood by the lake for ah, just smelling the
(17:02):
fresh water and listening to the birds calling to each other.
We strolled around the yard, noticing the flowers and the hostas,
whose wide ridged leaves still held dew from the night before.
I spotted a patch of black eyed Susans and planned
(17:25):
to come out later with the kitchen scissors to make
a bouquet for our bedside. There were a couple old
bikes with dusty seats but full tires, leaned up against
a shed. We found the key under a flower pot
and unlocked the door. The place was small and sweet,
(17:51):
and we opened the windows and let the fresh air in.
We poked around, moving from room to room. There was
a stack of puzzles and board games, and a few
decks of weathered cards. There were funny old pictures on
(18:12):
the walls, and the cupboards held a varied collection of
mismatched cups and plates from fifty plus years of meals.
We loved it. The bags came in, the coolers were
emptied into the fridge, and the peaches were tipped into
an old, chipped bowl on the table. What now, whatever?
(18:38):
We like a cold beer, a mystery novel. There's a
hammock under that tree. It looks big enough for two.
Let's do that, sweet e
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