🌸 🤫 Weekend Away in the Secret Garden - Part 3 of 3 - Relaxing Stories for Adults

Welcome to The Slow Life - A village filled with cozy stories for everyone. This story is called Weekend Away in the Secret Garden, and it’s about two naps in one day, dessert—of course, and something hidden in the familiar. This is Part 3 of the Secret Garden Bed & Breakfast series, but each story can be enjoyed on its own.

Part 1 (Arriving at the Secret Garden Bed & Breakfast): https://open.spotify.com/episode/1YrWvwsogEykmC9TLudwHl?si=4LTdxM25QWunRtt5s-TQ4w

Part 2 (Secret Garden): https://open.spotify.com/episode/4Nn0g6Vd9tytpRGWkbRglE?si=BZiEXGwhR9uE1GG5S9Zk5g

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

Support this podcast at Patreon, ⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠ https://patreon.com/theslowlifecalmingstories?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink

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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

Weekend Away in the Secret Garden is a cozy bedtime story about having a little staycation in my own town. 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

(00:01):
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 Weekend

(00:22):
Away in The Secret Garden and it's about two naps in one day.
Dessert, of course, and something hidden in the
familiar. This is Part 3 of The Secret
Garden Bed and Breakfast series,but each story can be enjoyed on

(00:43):
its own. I've been staying the weekend at
The Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast.
The gardens themselves are gorgeous and have been endless
entertainment between strolls throughout them and sitting in
each secluded spot, sometimes with a drink in hand, sometimes

(01:09):
with a book, and other moments with my hands empty and open in
my lap. Today even included two naps,
not long, just enough to nod offa few times.
The first one was in my room, but the second was in the shade

(01:31):
on a lounge chair in a corner bysome overhanging roses.
When supper time nears on this second and final evening of my
stay, I return inside. The dining room, which nowadays
offers more than just breakfast,is soft with candlelight and

(01:53):
quiet music. A handful of other guests sit at
small spaced out tables and the air hums with the clink of
silverware and the warmth of comfort food.
I have French onion soup to start and pasta set beside

(02:14):
roasted vegetables with herbs that I imagine were snipped
fresh from the garden. The bread is warm, the butter
melting easily over each piece, and I savor each bite.
There is dessert, of course, a crumble with Peaches, golden and

(02:35):
fragrant, paired with coconut ice cream.
It's a refreshing combination. I linger over it, not quite
ready for the evening to end. I returned to my room only when
the sky is deepening into indigo, the stars just beginning

(02:56):
to poke through. I take a bath, sinking into the
warm water with a sigh. The window above the tub is open
a few inches and I can hear the rustle of leaves and faint song
of crickets outside. The scent of lavender drifts

(03:18):
from the salts and oils providedand I close my eyes, allowing
the water to surround me for a while.
When I step out, I wrap myself in the thick robe hanging on the
back of the door. I've left mine at home, just for
the novelty of it. It's dark outside now as I curl

(03:43):
up in the window seat, legs tucked beneath me, looking down
at the garden. Tiny lights have come on
throughout the trees and flowers.
Fairy lights strung through the Arbor, a shelter formed of
climbing vines and their leaves.A soft glow is cast over the

(04:06):
beds below. It all looks like a painting
full of deep Blues and purples dotted with soft yellows and
oranges. I sit here for a while, only
rising to flick on the conveniently easy fireplace to
add to the coziness in the room.I'm ready for sleep now, and it

(04:32):
comes easily. The bed is soft.
The duvets wait upon me, just heavy enough to tuck me in.
My dreams are plump with flowers, which I see through
every secret garden doorway I choose to enter.
I wake in the morning to silence.

(04:54):
No curse, no distant hum of televisions, just the sight of
the wind. Sunlight filters through the
curtains like at home, just bright enough to stir me gently
awake and opening them fully when I'm ready.
I dress slowly, still wrapped inthe warmth of rest.

(05:18):
Downstairs, I'm told I can take breakfast in the sunroom or the
garden. It's a mild day, the sky wide
and fully blue, so I choose the garden.
The table waits, set with a white cloth and a small vase of
marigolds. I step on a smooth Ruey Boast

(05:40):
tea and listened to the bird song, watching the light shift
amongst the bushes as the sun climbs higher.
Breakfast arrives, house made granola with soy yogurt and
berries and a fresh baked scone,still warm.

(06:00):
Spreading the butter and jam andeach spoonful of granola feels
like a ritual performed with every bite.
I vow in this moment to appreciate my meal times more,
whether away on vacation or at home on any so-called regular

(06:21):
day. A few other guests passed by,
some nodding in greeting, othersas lost in their own scene as I
am. The garden feels like a shared
secret, but one that everyone can be a part of.
We all seem to know the rules that are to stroll or sit in

(06:44):
quiet reflection and to take deep breaths once we walk
through the gate. I returned to my room to gather
my things, taking time to do so.I stand at the window one last
time, committing the view to memory.
I fold the robe and leave it on the bed, smooth the quilt that

(07:08):
lies at the foot and thank the room for welcoming me in for
these few days. Down at the front desk, I'm
thanked and wished a beautiful rest of summer, and we schedule
my stay for next year on the same weekend.
We wave as if it's goodbye untilthen, even though we'll see each

(07:32):
other around the village in the meantime.
It's all part of the fun of a weekend away in your own town.
As I walk home, Wheeling my small suitcase behind me and
only a few blocks away, I realize I feel different.
Not changed, but renewed. The familiar houses I pass, the

(07:58):
sidewalks I've walked 1000 times.
They all look slightly altered, as if lit or giving off a
vibration from within. I've stayed in my own village,
yet I've seen it with new eyes again.
Knowing I'll return to The Secret Garden.

(08:19):
Bed and Breakfast will remind meto plant more flowers in my own
backyard, to slow down when I'm eating each meal, to sip rather
than gulp. I also feel incredibly fortunate
that I have no need to escape mysurroundings.

(08:40):
But I do it because it's fun sometimes, to step out of the
ordinary and find something hidden in the familiar.
It's good for the soul to sit ina garden and watch the blooms
unfold around you. It's magical to have a secret
that feels newly special each time you visit, even if that

(09:05):
secret is only a few blocks fromhome.
Weekend away in The Secret Garden.
I have been staying the weekend at The Secret Garden Bed and
Breakfast. The gardens themselves are

(09:27):
gorgeous and have been endless entertainment between strolls
throughout them and sitting in each secluded spot, sometimes
with a drink in hand, sometimes with a book, and other moments
with my hands empty and open in my lap.

(09:49):
Today even included two naps, not long, just enough to nod off
a few times. The first one was in my room,
but the second was in the shade on a lounge chair in a corner by
some overhanging roses. When supper time nears on this

(10:11):
second and final evening of my stay, I return inside.
The dining room, which nowadays offers more than just breakfast,
is soft with candlelight and quiet music.
A handful of other guests sit atsmall spaced out tables and the

(10:33):
air hums with the clink of silverware and the warmth of
comfort food. I have French onion soup to
start and pasta set beside roasted vegetables with herbs
that I imagine were snipped fresh from the garden.
The bread is warm, the butter melting easily over each piece,

(10:58):
and I savor each bite. There is dessert, of course, a
crumble with Peaches, golden andfragrant, paired with coconut
ice cream. It's a refreshing combination.
I linger over it, not quite ready for the evening to end.

(11:20):
I returned to my room only when the sky is deepening into
indigo, the stars just beginningto poke through.
I take a bath, sinking into the warm water with a sigh.
The window above the tub is opena few inches and I can hear the

(11:41):
rustle of leaves and faint song of crickets outside.
The scent of lavender drifts from the salts and oils provided
and I close my eyes, allowing the water to surround me for a
while. When I step out, I wrap myself

(12:02):
in the thick robe hanging on theback of the door.
I've left mine at home, just forthe novelty of it.
It's dark outside now as I curl up in the window seat, legs
tucked beneath me, looking down at the garden.
Tiny lights have come on throughout the trees and

(12:26):
flowers. Fairy lights strung through the
Arbor, a shelter formed of climbing vines and their leaves.
A soft glow is cast over the beds below.
It all looks like a painting full of deep Blues and purples
dotted with soft yellows and oranges.

(12:50):
I sit here for a while, only rising to flick on the
conveniently easy fireplace to add to the coziness in the room.
I'm ready for sleep now, and it comes easily.
The bed is soft. The duvets wait upon me, just

(13:10):
heavy enough to tuck me in. My dreams are plump with
flowers, which I see through every secret garden doorway I
choose to enter. I wake in the morning to
silence. No curse, no distant hum of
televisions, just the sight of the wind.

(13:33):
Sunlight filters through the curtains like at home, just
bright enough to stir me gently awake and opening them fully
when I'm ready. I dress slowly, still wrapped in
the warmth of rest. Downstairs, I'm told I can take
breakfast in the sunroom or the garden.

(13:55):
It's a mild day, the sky wide and fully blue, so I choose the
garden. The table waits, set with a
white cloth and a small vase of marigolds.
I step on a smooth rooibos tea and listened to the bird song,
watching the light shift amongstthe bushes as the sun climbs

(14:20):
higher. Breakfast arrives, house made
granola with soy yogurt and berries and a fresh baked scone,
still warm. Spreading the butter and jam and
each spoonful of granola feels like a ritual performed with

(14:40):
every bite. I vow in this moment to
appreciate my meal times more, whether away on vacation or at
home on any so-called regular day.
A few other guests passed by, some nodding in greeting, others

(15:00):
as lost in their own scene as I am.
The garden feels like a shared secret, but one that everyone
can be a part of. We all seem to know the rules
that are to stroll or sit in quiet reflection and to take
deep breaths once we walk through the gate.

(15:23):
I returned to my room to gather my things, taking time to do so.
I stand at the window one last time, committing the view to
memory. I fold the robe and leave it on
the bed, smooth the quilt that lies at the foot and thank the
room for welcoming me in for these few days.

(15:47):
Down at the front desk, I'm thanked and wished a beautiful
rest of summer, and we schedule my stay for next year on the
same weekend. We wave as if it's good bye
until then, even though we'll see each other around the
village in the meantime. It's all part of the fun of a

(16:09):
weekend away in your own town. As I walk home, Wheeling my
small suitcase behind me and only a few blocks away, I
realize I feel different. Not changed, but renewed.
The familiar houses I pass, the sidewalks I've walked 1000

(16:32):
times. They all look slightly altered,
as if lit or giving off a vibration from within.
I've stayed in my own village, yet I've seen it with new eyes
again. Knowing I'll return to The
Secret Garden. Bed and Breakfast will remind me

(16:54):
to plant more flowers in my own backyard, to slow down when I'm
eating each meal, to sip rather than gulp.
I also feel incredibly fortunatethat I have no need to escape my
surroundings. But I do it because it's fun

(17:14):
sometimes, to step out of the ordinary and find something
hidden in the familiar. It's good for the soul to sit in
a garden and watch the blooms unfold around you.
It's magical to have a secret that feels newly special each
time you visit, even if that secret is only a few blocks from

(17:40):
home. I wish you sweet dreams.