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, Catherine Nikolay,
Speaker 1: with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. If you enjoy our stories,
Speaker 1: please share them any way you can with anyone you
Speaker 1: know who likes relaxation and good sleep, and follow us
Speaker 1: on Facebook and Instagram for an extra bit of coziness.
Speaker 1: Now let me say a little about how to use
Speaker 1: this podcast. I have a story to tell you. The
Speaker 1: story is simple and nothing much happens in it, and
Speaker 1: that is kind of the idea. Instead of letting your
Speaker 1: overworked brain run rough shod over, you guide it someplace
Speaker 1: calm and relaxed, and its natural response is to shut
Speaker 1: off and allow you to sleep. I'll tell a story twice,
Speaker 1: and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you find that you are still awake at the
Speaker 1: end of the second telling, not to worry. That's just fine.
Speaker 1: Just walk yourself back through any of the details that
Speaker 1: you remember, and before you know it, you'll be waking
Speaker 1: up tomorrow feeling relaxed and refreshed. Each time you do this,
Speaker 1: you are training your brain to shut off faster and
Speaker 1: more completely, and finding deep, RESTful sleep will soon become
Speaker 1: the norm for you. Now it's time to turn off
Speaker 1: the light, set down anything you've been looking at, and
Speaker 1: settle your body into your bed as deeply and cozily
Speaker 1: as you can. Take a slow, deep breath, in through
Speaker 1: your nose and out through your mouth. Good, one more, please,
Speaker 1: in and out. Our story to night is called Getting
Speaker 1: the Tree, and it's a story about a holiday tradition
Speaker 1: that's been updated from childhood. It's also about a champagne toast,
Speaker 1: sharing a quiet moment, and the kindness of a stranger.
Speaker 1: Getting the Tree. There was a little beast on a
Speaker 1: corner a few blocks from our house. It was a long,
Speaker 1: narrow place with deep booths and low lights, and a
Speaker 1: long bar stretched along one wall. They'd strung some twinkling
Speaker 1: lights along the sills of the big street side windows,
Speaker 1: and each table had a candle or two glowing in
Speaker 1: glass jars. We were headed out to get our Christmas tree,
Speaker 1: but first we needed a bite and a drink. We
Speaker 1: were lucky and got the last booth in a cozy
Speaker 1: corner where we could lean back and watch the people
Speaker 1: strolling on the streets and the cars with trees strapped
Speaker 1: to their roofs driving by. Even though it was a
Speaker 1: week past, we were still a little full from Thanksgiving,
Speaker 1: so we just asked for some axe and two glasses
Speaker 1: of champagne. The waiter delivered a broad tray of nibbles
Speaker 1: for us. It held toasted nuts seasoned with rosemary and
Speaker 1: orange shrined still warm from the pan, A basket of bread,
Speaker 1: soft on the inside but with a good crust around it.
Speaker 1: A deep dish of olive oil speckled with dark balsamic
Speaker 1: vinegar and scattered with herbs, A tiny dish of braised
Speaker 1: artichokes and mushrooms, and some fat green olives. He set
Speaker 1: down the champagne and beside it a small plate of
Speaker 1: red raspberries. We smiled our thanks and lifted our glasses
Speaker 1: to each other and the merry day that lay ahead.
Speaker 1: I took a sip from my glass and let it
Speaker 1: fizz on my tongue for a moment, looking out to
Speaker 1: the street. As the first few flames started to fall, bubbles,
Speaker 1: I thought, go very well with snowflakes. We took our time,
Speaker 1: munching and sipping our way through the meal. We planned
Speaker 1: a bit, talked about the things we wanted to do
Speaker 1: before the season was over, ice skating, a holiday party,
Speaker 1: an old Christmas movie that was showing at the theater,
Speaker 1: and we sat quiet for a bit, just enjoying the
Speaker 1: snowfall and the flavors. What a gift it is to
Speaker 1: have someone that you can be quiet with, someone that
Speaker 1: you can share a simple moment of enjoyment with. I
Speaker 1: didn't take it for granted. I said a silent thank
Speaker 1: you deep in my head and let myself feel the warm,
Speaker 1: contented glow that my good luck had brought me. When
Speaker 1: we paid our bill and wound our scarves around our heads,
Speaker 1: remittened and hatted, we stepped out into the falling snow
Speaker 1: and stood a moment to let it catch on her
Speaker 1: faces and to smell the good, cold scent of the winter.
Speaker 1: We climbed into our car and headed out to the
Speaker 1: tree farm. When I was a child, my folks blessed them,
Speaker 1: bundled us up every year, and took us out to
Speaker 1: cut our own tree. There was a hay ride and
Speaker 1: a long walk through snowy fields, and quite a bit
Speaker 1: of family deliberation about which tree felt just right to
Speaker 1: each of us. As an adult, I appreciate the effort
Speaker 1: that went into that day and smile looking back at
Speaker 1: the memories and the left over feeling of childlike excitement
Speaker 1: that still lingers around them. We'd found a place a
Speaker 1: few years back that had a good stock of fresh
Speaker 1: trees and a sweet little shop and an old farmhouse
Speaker 1: that sold glass ornaments in hot cider and had a
Speaker 1: big crackling fire in the hearth. That made me quite
Speaker 1: happy to forego cutting our tree ourselves. We pulled into
Speaker 1: the snowy lot and parked along a row of leaning
Speaker 1: trees ready for their homes. There are some things you
Speaker 1: are never too old for, and the happy excitement of
Speaker 1: a Christmas tree is one of them. Come on, love,
Speaker 1: I said, clapping my mittened hands together. Let's find our tree.
Speaker 1: We walked through the fresh falling snow and started considered
Speaker 1: the options. We like a tall Charlie brown tree, a
Speaker 1: little spindley and with big gaps to hang our favorite
Speaker 1: ornaments in, but they were hard to find. We recognized
Speaker 1: a man bundled up in overalls, eyes bright in the cold,
Speaker 1: as the same one who'd helped us the year before,
Speaker 1: and he waved us over. He said he had just
Speaker 1: the tree for us, that he'd remembered us, and when
Speaker 1: he'd seen a tall, spare, gangly tree in his field,
Speaker 1: he'd cut it, hoping we'd be back. And here we were.
Speaker 1: I thanked him for his kindness in remembering us, and
Speaker 1: left them to the work of hoisting it up onto
Speaker 1: the car and securing it with loops of strong brown twine,
Speaker 1: while I slipped into the farmhouse for a couple of
Speaker 1: cups of something warm. Really more than the hot drink,
Speaker 1: I wanted a chance to poke on the shop and
Speaker 1: pet the kitty who lived there. It was wonderfully warm inside,
Speaker 1: and it made me feel how cold I'd gotten. I
Speaker 1: stopped in front of their fire for a few moments
Speaker 1: and stretched my fingers toward the warmth in the grate.
Speaker 1: The little house was strung with lights and smelled of
Speaker 1: the fresh pine boughs tucked onto every spare shelf. I
Speaker 1: ordered a hot cocoa and a cider, and, pointing through
Speaker 1: the window to the kind man who was wrestling our
Speaker 1: tree up onto the roof of our car, I asked,
Speaker 1: what does he like to drink? No, we heat, probably
Speaker 1: like a coffee, The lady behind the counter told me
Speaker 1: then a coffee too please. I know how he likes
Speaker 1: it black with two sugars, she said with a wink,
Speaker 1: as she took my few dollars and busied herself with
Speaker 1: my order. I heard a low meow from my ankles
Speaker 1: and looked down to see their spotted kiddie winding through
Speaker 1: my legs. I squatted down and petted her head and
Speaker 1: chatted with her for a moment. She was soft and
Speaker 1: a bit fat, and when she tired of me, she
Speaker 1: strutted off to find someone else to talk to. I
Speaker 1: took the drinks outside and handed them out, saying thank
Speaker 1: you and happy holidays and see you next year. And
Speaker 1: we climbed in and started for home getting the tree.
Speaker 1: There was a little beastro on a corner a few
Speaker 1: blocks from our house. It was a long, narrow place
Speaker 1: with deep booths and low lights, and a long bar
Speaker 1: stretched across one wall. They'd strung some twinkling lights along
Speaker 1: the sills of the big street side windows, and each
Speaker 1: table had a candle or two glowing in glass jars.
Speaker 1: We were headed out to get our Christmas tree, but
Speaker 1: first we needed a bite and a drink. We were
Speaker 1: lucky and got the last booth in a cozy corner
Speaker 1: where we could lean back and watch the people strolling
Speaker 1: on the streets and cars with trees strapped to their
Speaker 1: roofs driving by. Even though it was a week past,
Speaker 1: we were still a little full from Thanksgiving, so we
Speaker 1: just asked for some snacks and two glasses of champagne.
Speaker 1: The way delivered a broad tray of nibbles for us.
Speaker 1: It held toasted nuts seasoned with rosemary and orange, dried
Speaker 1: still warm from the pan, A basket of bread, soft
Speaker 1: on the inside but with a good crust around it,
Speaker 1: A deep dish of olive oil speckled with dark balsamic
Speaker 1: vinegar and scattered with herbs, A tiny dish of braised
Speaker 1: artichokes and mushrooms, and some fat green olives. He set
Speaker 1: down the champagne and beside it a small plate of
Speaker 1: red raspberries. We smiled our thanks and lifted our glasses
Speaker 1: to each other and the merry day that lay ahead.
Speaker 1: I took a sip from my glass and let it
Speaker 1: fiz on my tongue for a moment, looking out to
Speaker 1: the street, as the first few flakes started to fall. Bubbles,
Speaker 1: I thought, go very well with snowflakes. We took our time,
Speaker 1: munching and sipping our way through the meal. We planned
Speaker 1: a bit, talked about the things we wanted to do
Speaker 1: before the season was over. Ice skating, a holiday party,
Speaker 1: an old Christmas movie that was showing at the theater,
Speaker 1: And we sat quiet for a bit, just enjoying the
Speaker 1: snowfall and the flavors. What a gift it is to
Speaker 1: have some one that you can be quiet with, some
Speaker 1: one that you can share a simple moment of enjoyment with.
Speaker 1: I didn't take it for granted. I said a silent
Speaker 1: thank you deep in my head and let myself feel
Speaker 1: the warm, contented glow that my good luck had brought me.
Speaker 1: When we'd paid our bill and wound our scarves around
Speaker 1: our heads, remittened and hatted, we stepped out into the
Speaker 1: falling snow and stood a moment to let it catch
Speaker 1: on our faces and to smell the good, cold scent
Speaker 1: of the winter. We climbed into our car and headed
Speaker 1: out to the tree farm. When I was a child,
Speaker 1: my folks, bless them, bundled us up every year and
Speaker 1: took us out to cut our own tree. There was
Speaker 1: a hay ride and a long walk through snowy fields,
Speaker 1: and quite a bit of family deliberation about which tree
Speaker 1: felt just right to each of us. As an adult,
Speaker 1: I appreciate the effort that went into that day and
Speaker 1: smile looking back at the memories and the left over
Speaker 1: feeling of childlike excitement that still lingers around them. We'd
Speaker 1: found a place a few years back that had a
Speaker 1: good stock of fresh trees and a sweet little shop
Speaker 1: in an old farmhouse that sold glass ornaments and hot
Speaker 1: cider and had a big crackling fire in the hearth
Speaker 1: that made me quite happy to forego cutting the tree ourselves.
Speaker 1: We pulled into the snowy lot and parked along a
Speaker 1: row of leaning trees ready for their homes. There are
Speaker 1: some things you are never too old for, and the
Speaker 1: happy excitement of a Christmas tree is one of them.
Speaker 1: Come on, love, I said, clapping my mittened hands together.
Speaker 1: Let's find our tree. We walked through the fresh falling
Speaker 1: snow and started to consider the option. We like a
Speaker 1: tall Charlie brown tree, a little spindly and with big
Speaker 1: gaps to hang our favorite ornaments in, but they were
Speaker 1: hard to find. We recognized a man bundled up in overalls,
Speaker 1: eyes bright in the cold, as the same one who
Speaker 1: had helped us the year before, and he waved us over.
Speaker 1: He said he had just the tree for us, and
Speaker 1: that he'd remembered us, and when he'd seen a tall, spare,
Speaker 1: gangly tree in his field, he'd cut it, hoping we'd
Speaker 1: come back, And here we were. I thanked him for
Speaker 1: his kindness in remembering us, and left them to the
Speaker 1: work of hoisting it up onto the car and securing
Speaker 1: it with loops of strong brown twine, while I slipped
Speaker 1: into the farmhouse for a couple of cups of something warm.
Speaker 1: Really more than the hot drink. I wanted a chance
Speaker 1: to poke around the shop and pet the kitty who
Speaker 1: lived there. It was wonderfully warm inside and made me
Speaker 1: feel how cold I had gotten. I stopped in front
Speaker 1: of their fire for a few moments and stretched my
Speaker 1: fingers toward the warmth in the grate. The little house
Speaker 1: was strung with lights and smelled of the fresh pine
Speaker 1: boughs tucked into every spare shelf. I ordered a hot
Speaker 1: cocoa and a cider, and, pointing through the window to
Speaker 1: the kind man who was wrestling our tree up on
Speaker 1: to the roof of the car, I asked what does
Speaker 1: he like to drink? No, we heat, probably like a coffee.
Speaker 1: The lady behind the counter told me than a coffee too, please.
Speaker 1: I know how he likes it, black with two sugars,
Speaker 1: she said with a wink, as she took my few
Speaker 1: dollars and busied herself with my order. I heard a
Speaker 1: low yow from my ankles and looked down to see
Speaker 1: their spotted kitty winding through my legs. I squatted down
Speaker 1: and petted her head and chatted with her a moment.
Speaker 1: She was soft and a bit fat, and when she
Speaker 1: tired of me, she strutted off to find some one
Speaker 1: else to talk to. I took the drinks outside and
Speaker 1: handed them out, saying thank you and happy holidays and
Speaker 1: see you next year. And we climbed in and started
Speaker 1: for home. Sweet Dreams,