Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime Stories for grown ups, in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nikolay,
Speaker 1: with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Thank you for listening
Speaker 1: and for sharing our stories with anyone you know who
Speaker 1: likes relaxation and good sleep. You can follow us on
Speaker 1: Instagram and Facebook for an extra bit of coziness. Let
Speaker 1: me say something about how to use this podcast. I'm
Speaker 1: about to tell you a bedtime story. It's a simple story,
Speaker 1: without much action, but full of relaxing detail. The story
Speaker 1: is like a nap, and we're enticing your fluttering mind
Speaker 1: to settle down into it. I'll tell our story twice,
Speaker 1: and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you find yourself still awake at the end of
Speaker 1: the first or second telling, don't worry. That's a good
Speaker 1: rule of thumb in general, when you're trying to fall asleep,
Speaker 1: don't worry. Relax. Take your mind back to the beginning
Speaker 1: of the story and walk yourself back through the details
Speaker 1: that you can remember, especially any bit that felt particularly cozy.
Speaker 1: You're training your brain and body to wind down and
Speaker 1: the more often you do it, the faster you will
Speaker 1: fall asleep, So have a bit of patience at the beginning.
Speaker 1: If you find yourself awake again later in the night,
Speaker 1: use the story again to go right back to sleep.
Speaker 1: Now it's time to turn off the light and put
Speaker 1: away anything you've been working on or looking at. Take
Speaker 1: some time to snuggle yourself down into your preferred sleeping position.
Speaker 1: Make all the adjustments you need to to feel your
Speaker 1: body relaxing into your bed. We're creating a cue for
Speaker 1: your body and brain, and the signal that sends is
Speaker 1: it's time for sleep. Now. Let's take a deep breath
Speaker 1: in through the nose and a soft sigh through the mouth.
Speaker 1: Good that one more time in and out. Our story
Speaker 1: tonight is called Ducks in a Row, and it's a
Speaker 1: story about a slow paced sunday, several cups of tea,
Speaker 1: and having the time to do the things you need to.
Speaker 1: It's also about a shared loaf of banana bread, watching
Speaker 1: a cold wind blow through the last leaves of autumn,
Speaker 1: and feeling cared for and ready for a new week.
Speaker 1: Ducks in a Row. For a while now, the days
Speaker 1: had been racing past me in a hurried blur, and
Speaker 1: I'd been reaching out trying to catch a hold of
Speaker 1: one and slow it down without much success. I had
Speaker 1: projects I wanted to finish, little pleasures to enjoy, and
Speaker 1: tasks I was ready to cross off my list, and
Speaker 1: finally my day had come. I'd woken up and laid
Speaker 1: still in bed, listening to blustery winds moving through the trees,
Speaker 1: and a slow, relaxed smile had spread over my face
Speaker 1: as I realized that I had no plans and nowhere
Speaker 1: to be, and a whole day ahead of me to
Speaker 1: set my ducks in a row. It was still early,
Speaker 1: and since the pleasures on my list were just as
Speaker 1: important to me as the items of business, I took
Speaker 1: my book and my favorite fuzzy blanket to the couch
Speaker 1: and read a few pages as I waited for the
Speaker 1: kettle to boy. When the whistle came, it sounded friendly.
Speaker 1: We were old friends, the skettle and me, I hummed
Speaker 1: to myself as I poked through the cabinet of tea options.
Speaker 1: Does everyone buy too much tea? Earlier in the week,
Speaker 1: I'd been rushing through the aisles of my local market
Speaker 1: and gotten mesmerized by the displays of tea. I was
Speaker 1: wrapped the varieties and the names and the packages, and
Speaker 1: the ways I might feel and the places I might
Speaker 1: imagine when I drank them. I dropped three or four
Speaker 1: unfamiliar boxes into my basket and gone back to rushing, now,
Speaker 1: opening one up and breathing in the scent of tea
Speaker 1: leaves and Anna's seed and hazelnut. I couldn't imagine a
Speaker 1: better place to be than in my own cozy kitchen,
Speaker 1: filling my cup and watching the world wake up through
Speaker 1: the windows. I carried my cup back to the sofa,
Speaker 1: wrapped up in my blanket, and decided that this first
Speaker 1: hour of the day would be given over to reading
Speaker 1: and sipping. The house was quiet, just the sound of
Speaker 1: the wind outside and the occasional turning of pages. After
Speaker 1: I had finished my second cup and an oversized piece
Speaker 1: of toast I'd had to wrestle in and out of
Speaker 1: the toaster before covering it with jam, and reached a
Speaker 1: point of acceptable satisfaction in my book, I set it
Speaker 1: aside and thought about what should come next in the day.
Speaker 1: I had a few chores around the house that I'd
Speaker 1: been needing to tend to, some organizing and cleaning and
Speaker 1: sorting out that would be where I would start. I
Speaker 1: changed from cozy slept in pajamas to cozy, fresh lounge
Speaker 1: pants and T shirt, put my hair up, washed my face,
Speaker 1: and brushed my teeth. Watch out stuff that needs doing,
Speaker 1: I threatened, I'm headed for you. I turned on my
Speaker 1: local public radio station. They were playing their Sunday music shows,
Speaker 1: full of songs that felt familiar but that I hadn't
Speaker 1: actually heard before. I started in my bedroom, putting on
Speaker 1: fresh sheets, making the bed, putting away errant sweaters, and
Speaker 1: gathering a collection of empty cups and glasses. I worked
Speaker 1: from room to room, lighting candles as I went so
Speaker 1: that each space felt snug and welcoming as I finished,
Speaker 1: and within an hour or so, the house was tidy
Speaker 1: and set to rights. I moved into the kitchen next
Speaker 1: and got out a large pot and filled it with
Speaker 1: water and set it on the stove to simmer. I
Speaker 1: took an orange from the fruit basket and in one
Speaker 1: long curling strip, peeled the skin from the fruit. I
Speaker 1: dropped it into the pot with a handful of clothes,
Speaker 1: a few cinnamon sticks, and a spoonful of vanilla. I'd
Speaker 1: let this mix simmer away all day, filling the house
Speaker 1: with its sweet autumn flavors and softening the dry air
Speaker 1: with its steam. I cleared and cleaned my way through
Speaker 1: the fridge and pantry, setting out a bunch of browning
Speaker 1: bananas for some bread. I got out my rice steamer
Speaker 1: and filled it with the nutty brown rice I loved.
Speaker 1: I let it cook away as I mixed together the
Speaker 1: dough for the banana bread. I separated some out and
Speaker 1: stirred in a few spoonfuls of cocoa powder. When I'd
Speaker 1: filled the tins, I spooned some into each and used
Speaker 1: a butter knife to marble the mixes together. As they baked.
Speaker 1: I cooked away a batch of hummus, a tray of
Speaker 1: granola toasted nuts that I tucked into little glass jars
Speaker 1: to snack on through the wheat. My rice was done,
Speaker 1: and I spooned a cup or so of it into
Speaker 1: a bowl. I drizzled olive oil from young spicy olives
Speaker 1: on top, added a handful of the toasted nuts and
Speaker 1: some salt and pepper, and stirred it through. I ate
Speaker 1: it slowly, gazing out of the window, wondering how something
Speaker 1: so simple could taste so good and feel so nourishing.
Speaker 1: I realized that when I was rushed, I felt scrappy
Speaker 1: and uncared for taking time made me feel much better.
Speaker 1: I watched my neighbor coming across his yard with his dog.
Speaker 1: They'd been to the park, and they looked wind blown
Speaker 1: and chilled as they played tug of war with an
Speaker 1: old bit of rope. My neighbor, stomping his feet in
Speaker 1: the cold, finally called it off and they headed into
Speaker 1: the house. Once the breads were out, smelling heavenly and
Speaker 1: cooling on their racks, I cleaned up the mess i'd
Speaker 1: maid and wiped down the counters. I dried my pots
Speaker 1: and pans and set them back in their proper places.
Speaker 1: I wrapped a loaf of my banana bread in some
Speaker 1: parchment paper and secured it with a piece of striped string.
Speaker 1: I tromped over to my neighbor's porch and set it
Speaker 1: on his doorstep, ringing his bell and feeling the sting
Speaker 1: of the wind, hurried back inside. I watched him open
Speaker 1: his door with a steaming mug in his hand. He
Speaker 1: picked up the still warm packet and held it to
Speaker 1: his nose. He breathed in the smell and smiled. He
Speaker 1: turned to my window and lifted his cup in thanks.
Speaker 1: I waved at him and watched him go back in.
Speaker 1: Have you ever driven down a dark road on a
Speaker 1: cold night and looked into the windows of the houses
Speaker 1: passing by, and seeing them lit up and populated, thought
Speaker 1: to yourself, Oh good, they're in there. It's a strange
Speaker 1: comfort to feel relieved that strangers have made their way
Speaker 1: home at the end of the day, but it's no
Speaker 1: less satisfying for being strange. I felt it now. My
Speaker 1: house was tidy and snug on this windy, late autumn day.
Speaker 1: My neighbor was likely slicing a piece of warm bread
Speaker 1: to go with his coffee. My bed upstairs had fresh
Speaker 1: sheets on it, and I would be well fed and
Speaker 1: relaxed the sweek. It was a job well done. Ducks
Speaker 1: in a row. For a while now, the days had
Speaker 1: been racing past me in a hurried blur, and I
Speaker 1: had been reaching out, trying to catch a hold of
Speaker 1: one and slow it down, without much success. I had
Speaker 1: projects I wanted to finish, little pleasures to enjoy, and
Speaker 1: tasks I was ready to cross off my list, And
Speaker 1: finally my day had come. I'd woken up and laid
Speaker 1: still in bed, listening to blustery winds moving through the trees.
Speaker 1: A slow, relaxed smile spread over my face as I
Speaker 1: realized that I had no plans and nowhere to be,
Speaker 1: and a whole day ahead of me to set my
Speaker 1: ducks in a row. It was early still, and since
Speaker 1: the pleasures on my list were just as important to
Speaker 1: me as the items of business, I took my book
Speaker 1: and my favorite fuzzy blanket to the couch and read
Speaker 1: a few pages as I waited for the kettle to boil.
Speaker 1: When the whistle came, it sounded friendly. We were old friends,
Speaker 1: this kettle and me, I hummed to myself as I
Speaker 1: poked through the cabinet of tea options. Does everyone buy
Speaker 1: too much tea? Earlier in the week, I'd been rushing
Speaker 1: through the aisles of my local market and gotten mesmerized
Speaker 1: by the displays of tea. I was wrapped the varieties
Speaker 1: and the names, and the packages, and the ways I
Speaker 1: might feel and the places I might imagine when I
Speaker 1: drank them. I dropped three or four unfamiliar boxes into
Speaker 1: my basket and gone back to rushing, now opening one
Speaker 1: up and breathing in the scent of tea. Leaves and
Speaker 1: Anna's seed and hazelnut. I couldn't imagine a better place
Speaker 1: to be than in my own cozy kitchen, filling my
Speaker 1: cup and watching the world wake up through the windows.
Speaker 1: I carried my cup back to the sofa, wrapped up
Speaker 1: in a blanket, and decided this first hour of the
Speaker 1: day would be given over to reading and sipping. The
Speaker 1: house was quiet, just the sound of wind outside and
Speaker 1: the occasional turning of pages. After I'd finished my second
Speaker 1: cup and an oversized piece of toast, I'd had to
Speaker 1: wrestle in and out of the toaster before covering with jam,
Speaker 1: and reached a point of acceptable satisfaction in my book.
Speaker 1: I set it aside and thought about what should come
Speaker 1: next in my day. I'd had a few chores around
Speaker 1: the house that I'd been needing to tend to, some
Speaker 1: organizing and cleaning and sorting out. That would be where
Speaker 1: I would start. I changed from cozy slept in pajamas
Speaker 1: to cozy fresh lounge pants and T shirt, put my
Speaker 1: hair up, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. Watch
Speaker 1: out stuff that needs doing, I threatened, I'm headed for you.
Speaker 1: I turned on my local public radio station. They were
Speaker 1: playing their Sunday music shows, full of songs that felt familiar,
Speaker 1: but that I hadn't actually heard before. I started in
Speaker 1: my bedroom, putting on fresh sheets, making the bed, putting
Speaker 1: away errant sweaters, and gathering a collection of empty cups
Speaker 1: and glasses. I worked from room to room, lighting candles
Speaker 1: as I went, so that each space felt snug and
Speaker 1: welcoming as I finished, and within an hour or so,
Speaker 1: the house was tidy and set to rights. I moved
Speaker 1: into the kitchen next and got a large pot out
Speaker 1: and filled it with water and set it on the
Speaker 1: stove to simmer. I took an orange from the fruit basket,
Speaker 1: and in one long curling strip, peeled the skin from
Speaker 1: the fruit. I dropped it into the pot with a
Speaker 1: handful of clothes, a few cinnamon sticks, and a spoonful
Speaker 1: of vanilla. I'd let this mixture simmer away all day,
Speaker 1: filling the house with its sweet autumn flavors and softening
Speaker 1: the dry air with its steam. I cleared and cleaned
Speaker 1: my way through the fridge and pantry, setting out a
Speaker 1: bunch of browning bananas for some bread. I got out
Speaker 1: my rice steamer and filled it with the nutty brown rice.
Speaker 1: I loved. I let it cook away. As I mixed
Speaker 1: together the dough for the banana bread, I separated some
Speaker 1: out and stirred in a few spoonfuls of cocoa powder.
Speaker 1: When I'd filled the tins, I spooned some into each
Speaker 1: and used a butter knife to marble the mixes together.
Speaker 1: As they baked. I cooked away a batch of hummus,
Speaker 1: a tray of granola toasted nuts that I tucked into
Speaker 1: little glass jars to snack on through the week. My
Speaker 1: rice was done, and I spooned a cup or so
Speaker 1: of it into a bowl. I drizzled a olive oil
Speaker 1: from young spicy olives on top, added a handful of
Speaker 1: the toasted nuts and some salt and pepper, and stirred
Speaker 1: it through. I ate it slowly, gazing out the window,
Speaker 1: wondering how something so simple could taste so good and
Speaker 1: feel so nourishing. I realized that when I was rushed,
Speaker 1: I felt scrappy and uncared for taking time made me
Speaker 1: feel much better. I watched my neighbor coming across his
Speaker 1: yard with his dog. They'd been to the park, and
Speaker 1: they looked wind blown and chilled as they played tug
Speaker 1: of war with an old bit of rope. My neighbor,
Speaker 1: stomping his feet in the cold, finally called it off,
Speaker 1: and they headed into their house. Once the breads were out,
Speaker 1: smelling heavenly and cooling on their racks, I cleaned up
Speaker 1: the mess I'd made and wiped down the counters. I
Speaker 1: dried my pots and pans and set them back in
Speaker 1: their proper places. I wrapped a loaf of my banana
Speaker 1: bread in some parchment paper and secured it with a
Speaker 1: piece of striped string. I tromped over to my neighbor's
Speaker 1: porch and set it on his doorstep, ringing his bell
Speaker 1: and feeling the sting of the wind, hurried back inside.
Speaker 1: I watched him open his door with a steaming mug
Speaker 1: in his hand. He picked up the still warm packet
Speaker 1: and held it to his nose. He breathed in the
Speaker 1: smell and smiled. He turned to my window and lifted
Speaker 1: his cup and thanks. I waved at him and watched
Speaker 1: him go back in. Have you ever driven down a
Speaker 1: dark road on a cold evening and looked into the
Speaker 1: windows of the houses passing by, and seeing them lit
Speaker 1: up and populated, thought to yourself, Oh, good, bear in there,
Speaker 1: it's a strange comfort to feel relieved that strangers have
Speaker 1: made their way home at the end of the day.
Speaker 1: But it's no less satisfying for being strange. I felt
Speaker 1: it now. My house was tidy and snug on this windy,
Speaker 1: late autumn day. My neighbor was likely slicing a piece
Speaker 1: of warm bread to go with his coffee. My bed
Speaker 1: upstairs had sheets on it, and I would be well
Speaker 1: fed and relaxed the sweet It was a job well done.
Speaker 1: Sweet dreams