🌷🪣 Cleaning the Garden Beds (A Spring Story) - The Slow Life Stories - Bedtime Stories for Adults - Calming Stories for Grownups and All Ages

Welcome to The Slow Life - A village filled with cozy stories for everyone. This story is called Cleaning the Garden Beds, and it’s about an expected pleasant surprise, work that’s really play, and things showing up in their own time.

🇨🇦 These stories are written, edited and narrated by Jennifer Zwicker.

~~~~

Benefits of listening to cozy stories or adult bedtime stories with The Slow Life:

1. Relaxation and Stress Relief

• You want to unwind after a stressful day.

• The gentle pacing, soothing tone, and comforting narratives help calm your mind and body.

2. Help Falling Asleep

• Many people use bedtime stories as a sleep aid. We’ve been told ours help.

• A calming story distracts from anxious or racing thoughts, making it easier to drift off. Especially with a second reading as we have, because you already know what happens.

3. Comfort and Nostalgia

• You’re looking for the emotional safety and warmth that often comes with familiar or gently imaginative stories.

• Cozy stories can evoke fond childhood memories or a sense of being cared for.

4. Escape and Imagination

• A peaceful story can provide a gentle escape from reality without overstimulation.

• Listeners enjoy being transported to a calm village, a peaceful garden, or a quaint and cozy inn.

5. Mindfulness and Presence

• The slow, descriptive nature of cozy storytelling encourages a mindful focus on the present.

• It can be a form of meditative listening, grounding you, the listener, in sensory details and slow pacing.

6. Companionship and Connection

• Perhaps, for people who live alone or feel lonely, a narrator’s voice can feel like friendly company.

• It’s a quiet, non-demanding form of social presence.

🧡 Bedtime stories for grown ups

🧡 Bedtime stories for kids

🧡 Meditation story

Cleaning the Garden Beds is a story about getting my gardens ready for planting seeds and transplants in the spring. There is beauty, there is comfort. It may help put you to sleep. Calming stories to help you sleep. Relieve anxiety.

⚠️ Take care listening while driving or doing any activity that requires your full attention.

• All stories - Copyright Jennifer Zwicker 2024, 2025

Episode Transcript

(00:02):
Welcome to The Slow Life, a village filled with cozy stories
for everyone. I'll read this story 2 times to
help you zone out or even fall asleep during the second
reading. This story is called Cleaning

(00:23):
the Garden Beds, and it's about an expected pleasant surprise
work that's really play and things showing up in their own
time. The only sounds to be heard when
I step out into the backyard. Are there birds saying their

(00:47):
good mornings to each other and I imagine to me?
I tap my feet against the underside of the patio, knocking
yesterday's mud off my boots. My gloves are a bit stiff from
last spring, but they loosen up as I shake them out.

(01:09):
The sky is scattered with clouds, which will help keep the
sun hidden at intervals that will keep me from getting too
hot out here in the gardens as Iwork.
The daffodils and crocuses were a pleasant surprise as always,
blooming at their regular time anumber of weeks ago, some of

(01:35):
their petals crumpling a bit like paper now that their season
is reaching its end. It seems short, but it's ever so
sweet to have the early bloomerspop up one day as I walk by
someone else's place through thevillage.
The yellows and purples never fail to offer a cheerful touch

(02:00):
to late winter and early spring.Lots of them still Bob hello as
I make a loop around my yard. After making a full circle, I
kneel beside a group of them, brushing away dry leaves that
have blown in from the hedge, and I tug at a handful of weeds.

(02:25):
The soil is soft and a little damp.
I'm getting ahead of myself hereand stand up to gather the rest
of my supplies for cleaning out the garden beds.
I get shears and Clippers depending on what needs to be
trimmed back. I dig out a bucket that's easy

(02:49):
to throw sticks and other thingsthat don't belong into, and I
opened my new knee pads, which were a great gift from my sister
to keep me dry and cushioned on the grass and the dirt.
The warmth has made itself knownfor enough days and even weeks

(03:12):
that the bugs and critters who use the old fallen leaves as
cover will be OK if they're gathered up.
I'll be reusing most of it as mulch or mixing it down into the
soil to feed from below. To say the beds are a mess is

(03:33):
too strong a word, but stray twigs and the spindly remains of
things that don't survive the cold cover the surface.
I work slowly, pulling away the debris, cutting back brittle
stems and teasing out the weeds that have already made

(03:53):
themselves a spot. I settle into a rhythm, pull,
toss, snip and dig. I do make sure to stand and
stretch on occasion, and I soon shed my coat, then my sweater.
Frequent sips from my water bottle keep me going without the

(04:17):
need to step inside. A bird calls from the fence,
asking me what I'm up to. I pause, hands resting on my
knees, and listen. Of course it's talking to
someone else. As another call answers farther
off, it sounds like a good conversation.

(04:42):
Maybe they're building a new home.
Maybe they're discussing their meal options?
Either way, it's music to my ears, and I wonder if it's music
to theirs as well. Under the Bramble along the back
fence, something catches my eye.Tucked low in the undergrowth,

(05:06):
nearly hidden beneath a scatter of broken twigs and dark leaves,
is a bird's nest. I reach under and ease it free
with careful hands. It's small and tightly woven
with admirable skill. Bits of grass and Moss are mixed

(05:26):
in. A work of instinct and patience
for sure. It's old and empty now.
No eggs, no hints of recent use.I cradle it for a while,
kneeling and swaying to the birdsongs going on all around.

(05:47):
I don't want to throw the nest away as so much work was put
into it and it's too perfect forthe compost bin.
I carry it with me, setting it down close by as I work on
clearing the other gardens. By the time I reached the

(06:08):
evergreens near the back gate, the sun has fully broken
through. It dapples the yard, shining on
the stones and still wet branches of the trees and
bushes. I decide to tuck the nest into
one of the trees, nestled safelybetween two strong limbs.

(06:33):
Maybe a bird will find it. Maybe it will remain just as it
is, untouched and unnoticed, or used as a place to land and hide
for a few minutes between flights.
I returned to my task. The patch of herbs is overgrown

(06:54):
and the mint will take over if Idon't stay on top of it.
I trim the old stocks back to find tiny green sprouts and I
smile. Such a beautiful sight to see.
The lavender, which is another favorite, is bear still, but its

(07:15):
wood is alive. I leave it knowing it will bloom
again soon. My body still feels good, but
I've learned not to push for toomany hours at once.
It's soon time to wrap it up forthe day.
The gardens are starting to resemble the shapes I remember

(07:37):
from last year, the borders curving against the grass, some
with a divider of Beech rocks inbetween.
The stepping stones reappear from beneath layers of vines and
dirt. The wind has picked up, stirring
the tall grasses on the other side of the fence.

(08:01):
The nest sways gently in its newhome.
I watch it for a moment, wondering if anything will come
of it. I turn where I stand and survey
the work that's been done. Although playtime seems a better
word for it. Clean beds, trimmed edges, ready

(08:24):
for what's to come. Tulips are rising at the side of
the house. Then peonies and others will
follow in their own time as I gather my tools.
I decide that tomorrow I'll sow some seeds in the spots that are
ready. Not much, maybe some marigolds

(08:47):
to keep the bugs away. There is still some cleaning
left to do, but for today it is enough cleaning the garden beds
the only sounds to be heard whenI step out into the backyard.

(09:11):
Are there birds saying their good mornings to each other and
I imagine to me? I tapped my feet against the
underside of the patio, knockingyesterday's mud off my boots.
My gloves are a bit stiff from last spring, but they loosen up

(09:33):
as I shake them out. The sky is scattered with
clouds, which will help keep thesun hidden at intervals that
will keep me from getting too hot out here in the gardens as I
work. The daffodils and crocuses were
a pleasant surprise as always, blooming at their regular time a

(09:57):
number of weeks ago, some of their petals crumpling a bit
like paper now that their seasonis reaching its end.
It seems short, but it's ever sosweet to have the early bloomers
pop up one day as I walk by someone else's place through the

(10:19):
village. The yellows and purples never
fail to offer a cheerful touch to late winter and early spring.
Lots of them still Bob hello as I make a loop around my yard.
After making a full circle, I kneel beside a group of them,

(10:42):
brushing away dry leaves that have blown in from the hedge,
and I tug at a handful of weeds.The soil is soft and a little
damp. I'm getting ahead of myself here
and stand up to gather the rest of my supplies for cleaning out

(11:03):
the garden beds. I get shears and Clippers
depending on what needs to be trimmed back.
I dig out a bucket that's easy to throw sticks and other things
that don't belong into, and I opened my new knee pads, which

(11:23):
were a great gift from my sisterto keep me dry and cushioned on
the grass and the dirt. The warmth has made itself known
for enough days and even weeks that the bugs and critters who
use the old fallen leaves as cover will be OK if they're

(11:45):
gathered up. I'll be reusing most of it as
mulch or mixing it down into thesoil to feed from below.
To say the beds are a mess is too strong a word, but stray
twigs and the spindly remains ofthings that don't survive the

(12:06):
cold cover the surface. I work slowly, pulling away the
debris, cutting back brittle stems and teasing out the weeds
that have already made themselves a spot.
I settle into a rhythm, pull, toss, snip and dig.

(12:30):
I do make sure to stand and stretch on occasion, and I soon
shed my coat, then my sweater. Frequent sips from my water
bottle keep me going without theneed to step inside.
A bird calls from the fence, asking me what I'm up to.

(12:52):
I pause, hands resting on my knees, and listen.
Of course it's talking to someone else.
As another call answers farther off, it sounds like a good
conversation. Maybe they're building a new
home. Maybe they're discussing their

(13:13):
meal options? Either way, it's music to my
ears, and I wonder if it's musicto theirs as well.
Under the Bramble along the backfence, something catches my eye.
Tucked low in the undergrowth, nearly hidden beneath a scatter

(13:35):
of broken twigs and dark leaves,is a bird's nest.
I reach under and ease it free with careful hands.
It's small and tightly woven with admirable skill.
Bits of grass and Moss are mixedin.
A work of instinct and patience for sure.

(13:58):
It's old and empty now. No eggs, no hints of recent use.
I cradle it for a while, kneeling and swaying to the bird
songs going on all around. I don't want to throw the nest
away as so much work was put into it and it's too perfect for

(14:21):
the compost bin. I carry it with me, setting it
down close by as I work on clearing the other gardens.
By the time I reached the evergreens near the back gate,
the sun has fully broken through.
It dapples the yard, shining on the stones and still wet

(14:45):
branches of the trees and bushes.
I decide to tuck the nest into one of the trees, nestled safely
between two strong limbs. Maybe a bird will find it.
Maybe it will remain just as it is, untouched and unnoticed, or

(15:08):
used as a place to land and hidefor a few minutes between
flights. I returned to my task.
The patch of herbs is overgrown and the mint will take over if I
don't stay on top of it. I trim the old stocks back to

(15:28):
find tiny green sprouts and I smile.
Such a beautiful sight to see. The lavender, which is another
favorite, is bear still, but itswood is alive.
I leave it knowing it will bloomagain soon.
My body still feels good, but I've learned not to push for too

(15:53):
many hours at once. It's soon time to wrap it up for
the day. The gardens are starting to
resemble the shapes I remember from last year, the borders
curving against the grass, some with a divider of Beech rocks in
between. The stepping stones reappear

(16:16):
from beneath layers of vines anddirt.
The wind has picked up, stirringthe tall grasses on the other
side of the fence. The nest sways gently in its new
home. I watch it for a moment,
wondering if anything will come of it.

(16:37):
I turn where I stand and survey the work that's been done.
Although playtime seems a betterword for it.
Clean beds, trimmed edges, readyfor what's to come.
Tulips are rising at the side ofthe house.
Then peonies and others will follow in their own time as I

(17:02):
gather my tools. I decide that tomorrow I'll sow
some seeds in the spots that areready.
Not much, maybe some marigolds to keep the bugs away.
There is still some cleaning left to do, but for today it is
enough. I wish you sweet dreams.