Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
Speaker 1: I write and read all the stories you hear and
Speaker 1: nothing much happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. If
Speaker 1: you need more nothing much in your life, go to
Speaker 1: Nothing Much Happens dot com. You can become a subscribing member,
Speaker 1: which gives you ad free and bonus episodes and is
Speaker 1: a wonderful and really appreciated way to support what Bob
Speaker 1: and I do. You can also buy merch, listen to
Speaker 1: spooked up versions of our Halloween episodes, and link to
Speaker 1: our social media feeds. Again, that's nothing much happens dot com.
Speaker 1: Every episode is someone's first episode. So I like to
Speaker 1: let you know how this works. How will a bedtime
Speaker 1: story put you to sleep? Well, mostly it will because
Speaker 1: it occupies the part of your brain that likes to
Speaker 1: wander and worry. It keeps it in a soft, cozy nest,
Speaker 1: and once your brain is seen to, your body will
Speaker 1: naturally follow. I'll tell the story twice and they'll go
Speaker 1: a little slower on the second read. If you wake
Speaker 1: again later, just turn the story back on or think
Speaker 1: through any details you can remember. You'll drop right back
Speaker 1: off now, lights out, campers, it down, anything you are
Speaker 1: looking at. Get the right pillow in the right spot.
Speaker 1: You have done enough for today. It is enough. Nothing
Speaker 1: is left but deep sleep. Take a slow breath in
Speaker 1: through your nose, let it out with a sigh. Do
Speaker 1: one more breathe in and out. Good. Our story tonight
Speaker 1: is taking us back to the Inn for part two
Speaker 1: in this series. It's a story about a busy afternoon
Speaker 1: for the innkeeper. It's also a watermelons ripe and ready
Speaker 1: to be cut, a dinner bell ringing on the porch,
Speaker 1: and how good it feels to care for and be
Speaker 1: cared for summer at the Inn Part two. I heard
Speaker 1: the crunch of tires on gravel coming from the circle
Speaker 1: drive at the front of the inn. I still had
Speaker 1: the bird seats scoop in my hand from refilling the
Speaker 1: feeders as I rounded the edge of the house. We
Speaker 1: weren't expecting any new guests today, so I wondered who
Speaker 1: might be stopping by. Occasionally, folks from the neighboring streets
Speaker 1: came to have a cup of coffee on the porch
Speaker 1: and share a bit of local gossip, but they usually
Speaker 1: showed up on foot or rode their bicycles. I spotted
Speaker 1: a dusty pickup coming up the drive, and I smiled
Speaker 1: as I recognized it. We bought a lot of our
Speaker 1: produce from nearby farmers. Whatever chef couldn't grow in our
Speaker 1: vegetable patch, and there was one farm. They were famous
Speaker 1: all through the county for their giant vegetables. They won
Speaker 1: the Blue Ribbon at the fair nearly every year for
Speaker 1: their enormous pumpkins and bolder sized cabbages. We hadn't placed
Speaker 1: an order for anything recently, but sometimes they just drove
Speaker 1: up with their truck bed full of goodies to see
Speaker 1: if there was anything we needed. As the truck stopped
Speaker 1: at the front door and I peered into the bed,
Speaker 1: I knew we'd be taking some today. A woman in
Speaker 1: worn jeans and a flannel shirt stepped out of the
Speaker 1: cab and smilingly said, watermelon season has begun. I can
Speaker 1: see that. I laughed, looking down at the giant fruit
Speaker 1: piled among blankets to keep them from breaking open. Beside
Speaker 1: the watermelon, there were a few cantalopes, and I thought
Speaker 1: of the cantalope ice cream Chef had made last year.
Speaker 1: How delicious and creamy it had been, with nothing but
Speaker 1: the pure flavor of the fruit. Chef had served it
Speaker 1: in perfect quinnels on our fancy patterned china plates, but
Speaker 1: I had eaten the last bites straight from the container
Speaker 1: at midnight in my slippers while the whole inn slept.
Speaker 1: Chef must have heard the truck as well, and they
Speaker 1: came around to inspect the fruit. We were at full
Speaker 1: capacity for the foreseeable future, and we talked about what
Speaker 1: to buy, what we might serve. The days were hot,
Speaker 1: and platters of chilled watermelon set out by the beach
Speaker 1: chairs would always hit the spot. But Chef also would
Speaker 1: make a salad with the fruit with mint and lime
Speaker 1: and smoked almonds. We had a breakfast service each morning,
Speaker 1: then we did platters of sandwiches and salads at lunchtime,
Speaker 1: and set out some nuts olives with drinks in the afternoon.
Speaker 1: By then, our small staff had already put in a
Speaker 1: full day's work, so our guests drove into town to
Speaker 1: find their dinners. Still, every now and then Chef was
Speaker 1: inspired to make a special supper, like on the summer
Speaker 1: solstice or on a night when we were predicted to
Speaker 1: have clear skies and an abundance of shooting stars. When
Speaker 1: eating on our porch by the lake would be irresistible.
Speaker 1: Or just when there was a confluence of excellent fresh
Speaker 1: things to cook and gastronomic inspiration began to pick out melons.
Speaker 1: I added a few cantaloupes with a hopeful smile, and
Speaker 1: from the cab the farmer brought out baskets of asparagus
Speaker 1: and spring onions, rainbow charred, and the season's first years
Speaker 1: of corn. I could see the gears turning in Chef's
Speaker 1: head and thought we might be in store for a
Speaker 1: treat after all. The farmer helped us carry everything down
Speaker 1: into the kitchens and we worked out the cost, which
Speaker 1: was somewhat lessened when we added several jars of chefs
Speaker 1: spicy pickled watermelon rind that had been put up the
Speaker 1: year before with the same farms melons. Once the produce
Speaker 1: was all laid out on the counters, we talked through
Speaker 1: some ideas. It was nearly lunch time and Chef had
Speaker 1: made sandwiches. As soon as breakfast was done, we took
Speaker 1: them from the fridge and I set the neatly cut
Speaker 1: triangles out on pretty platters so that the guests could
Speaker 1: serve themselves. There was a big dish of cucumber salad
Speaker 1: topped with pickled red onions, and Chef set about slicing
Speaker 1: a couple of watermelons to go with it. I carried
Speaker 1: the platters and dishes up to a long table laid
Speaker 1: with a white cloth on the screened in porch. I
Speaker 1: fussed with the napkins and stacks of plates and bowls,
Speaker 1: and went back down for more. There was a tray
Speaker 1: of warm, soft flatbreads topped with slices of yellow tomatoes
Speaker 1: and garlic spread, and crafts of lemonade and hibiscus iced tea. Lastly,
Speaker 1: I laid out the watermelon and pushed the screen door open.
Speaker 1: I rang the bell that hung from the porch eaves
Speaker 1: to let our guests down by the water know that
Speaker 1: lunch was served. Some sprang up from their towels and
Speaker 1: lounge chairs and headed up the grassy hill straight away.
Speaker 1: Others were deep into naps or novels, or just starting
Speaker 1: their first lap in the lake. We'd keep the platters
Speaker 1: full till everyone was fed and happy. I like to
Speaker 1: watch the guests come in and survey the table, unexcitedly
Speaker 1: pick up a plate and begin to fill it. We
Speaker 1: had a loosely enforced rule that if you were in
Speaker 1: a bathing suit, especially if you had just gotten out
Speaker 1: of the water, you'd carry your meal to one of
Speaker 1: the shady picnic tables outside, and on a day like today,
Speaker 1: merely everyone chose to eat alfresco. I kept an eye
Speaker 1: on our diners, bringing out pitchers of water to some
Speaker 1: of the tables, and carrying in the dishes as they emptied.
Speaker 1: As our lunch service was ending, I felt my stomach rumble,
Speaker 1: and I realized it was time for my own repast.
Speaker 1: Sometimes the staff met for family meal in the late
Speaker 1: morning or early afternoon, depending on how busy we were.
Speaker 1: If it was a day when the whole inn would
Speaker 1: turn over from one group of guests to another, we'd
Speaker 1: often just fill a plate whenever we could. To day,
Speaker 1: our schedule had been displaced by that truck rumbling up
Speaker 1: the drive, and when I got back down into the kitchens,
Speaker 1: I found that chef and our housekeeper had already lunched
Speaker 1: and were sipping tiny cups of espresso to finish their meal.
Speaker 1: They laughed when they caught my expression hungry and pouting.
Speaker 1: I fixed you a plate. Don't worry, said chef, and
Speaker 1: lifted a plaid towel to show me one piled with
Speaker 1: all my favorites. I pulled up a chair and drew
Speaker 1: the plate toward me. A chef passed over some silverware
Speaker 1: and a napkin. The kitchen was cool and smelled already
Speaker 1: of whatever our special supper would be to night. I
Speaker 1: spread the napkin over my lap and let out a
Speaker 1: contented sigh. The summer was busy, but in all the
Speaker 1: best ways. Summer At the Inn, Part two, I heard
Speaker 1: the crunch of tires on gravel coming from the circle
Speaker 1: drive at the front of the inn. I still had
Speaker 1: the bird seed scoop in my hand from refilling the
Speaker 1: feeders as I rounded the edge of the house. We
Speaker 1: weren't expecting any new guests today, so I wondered who
Speaker 1: might be stopping by. Occasionally folks from the neighboring streets
Speaker 1: came to have a cup of coffee on the porch
Speaker 1: and share a bit of local gossip, but they usually
Speaker 1: showed up on foot or rode their bicycles. I spotted
Speaker 1: a dusty pickup truck coming up the drive, and I
Speaker 1: smiled as I recognized it. We bought a lot of
Speaker 1: our produce from nearby farmers. Whatever Chef couldn't grow in
Speaker 1: our vegetable patch. When there was one farm, they were
Speaker 1: famous all through the county for their giant vegetables. They
Speaker 1: won the Blue ribbon at the fair nearly every year
Speaker 1: for their enormous pumpkins and bolder sized cabbages. We hadn't
Speaker 1: placed an order for anything recently, but sometimes they just
Speaker 1: drove up with their truck bed full of goodies to
Speaker 1: see if there was anything we needed. As the truck
Speaker 1: stopped at the front door and I peered into the bed,
Speaker 1: I knew we'd be taking some today. A woman in
Speaker 1: worn jeans and a flannel shirt stepped out of the
Speaker 1: cab and smilingly said, watermelon season has begun. I can
Speaker 1: see that. I laughed, looking down at the giant fruit
Speaker 1: piled among blankets to keep them from breaking open. Beside
Speaker 1: the watermelon, there were a few cantalopes, and I thought
Speaker 1: of the cantaloupe ice cream Chef had made last year,
Speaker 1: How delicious and creamy it had been, with nothing but
Speaker 1: the pure flavor of the fruit. Chef had served it
Speaker 1: in perfect quesnels on her fancy patterned china plates, but
Speaker 1: I'd eaten the last bites straight from the container at
Speaker 1: midnight in my slippers while the hole inn slept. Chef
Speaker 1: must have heard the truck as well, and the came
Speaker 1: around to inspect the fruit. We were at full capacity
Speaker 1: for the foreseeable future, and we talked about what to buy,
Speaker 1: what we might serve. The days were hot, and platters
Speaker 1: of chilled watermelon set out by the beach chairs would
Speaker 1: always hit the spot. But Chef also would make a
Speaker 1: salad with the fruit, with mint leaves and lime and
Speaker 1: smoked almonds. We had a breakfast service each morning, then
Speaker 1: we did platters of sandwiches and salads at lunchtime, and
Speaker 1: set out some nuts and olives with drinks in the afternoon.
Speaker 1: By then, our small staff had already put in a
Speaker 1: full day's work, so our guests drove into town to
Speaker 1: find their dinners. Still. Every now and then Chef was
Speaker 1: inspired to make a special supper, like on the summer
Speaker 1: solstice or on a night when we were predicted to
Speaker 1: have clear skies and an abundance of shooting stars, When
Speaker 1: eating on our porch by the lake would be irresistible
Speaker 1: or just when there was a confluence of excellent fresh
Speaker 1: things to cook and gastronomic inspiration. We began to pick
Speaker 1: out melons. I added a few cantelopes with a hopeful smile,
Speaker 1: and from the cab the farmer brought out baskets of
Speaker 1: asparagus and spring onions, rainbow charred and the season's first
Speaker 1: years of sweet corn. I could see the gears turning
Speaker 1: Chef's head and thought we might be in store for
Speaker 1: a treat after all. The farmer helped us carry everything
Speaker 1: down into the kitchens and we worked out the cost,
Speaker 1: which was somewhat lessened when we added several jars of
Speaker 1: chefs spicy pickled watermelon rind that had been put up
Speaker 1: the year before with the same farms melons. Once the
Speaker 1: produce was all laid out on the counters, we talked
Speaker 1: through some ideas. It was nearly lunch time and Chef
Speaker 1: had made sandwiches. Soon as breakfast was done, we took
Speaker 1: them from the fridge and I set the neatly cut
Speaker 1: triangles out on pretty platters so the guests could serve themselves.
Speaker 1: There was a big dish of cucumber salad topped with
Speaker 1: pickled red onions, and Chef set about slicing a couple
Speaker 1: of the watermelons to go along with it. I carried
Speaker 1: the platters and dishes up to a long table laid
Speaker 1: with a white cloth on the screened in porch. I
Speaker 1: fussed with the napkins and stacks of plates and bowls,
Speaker 1: and went back down for more. There was a tray
Speaker 1: of warm, soft flat breads, topped with slices of yellow
Speaker 1: tomatoes and garlic spread, and carafts of lemonade and hibiscus tea. Lastly,
Speaker 1: I laid out the watermelon and pushed the screen door open.
Speaker 1: I rang the bell that hung from the porch eaves
Speaker 1: to let our guests down by the water know that
Speaker 1: lunch was served. Some sprang up from their towels and
Speaker 1: lounge chairs and headed up the grassy hill straightway. Others
Speaker 1: were deep into novels or naps, or just starting their
Speaker 1: first laps in the lake. We'd keep the platters fall
Speaker 1: till everyone was fed and happy. I like to watch
Speaker 1: the guests come in and survey the table and excitedly
Speaker 1: pick up a plate and begin to fill it. We
Speaker 1: had a loosely enforced rule that if you were in
Speaker 1: a bathing suit, especially if you had just gotten out
Speaker 1: of the water. You'd carry your meal to one of
Speaker 1: the shady picnic tables outside, and on a day like today,
Speaker 1: nearly everyone chose to eat alfresco. I kept an eye
Speaker 1: on our diners, bringing out pitchers of water to some
Speaker 1: of the tables, and carrying in the dishes as they emptied.
Speaker 1: As our lunch service was ending, I felt my stomach rumble,
Speaker 1: and I realized it was time for my own repast.
Speaker 1: Sometimes the staff met for family meal in the late
Speaker 1: morning or early afternoon, depending on how busy we were.
Speaker 1: If it was a day when the whole inn would
Speaker 1: turn over from one group of guests to another, we'd
Speaker 1: often just fill a plate whenever we could. To day,
Speaker 1: our schedule had been displaced by that truck rumbling up
Speaker 1: the drive, And when I got back down into the kitchens,
Speaker 1: I found that Chef and our housekeeper had already lunched,
Speaker 1: and we're sipping tiny cups of espresso to finish their meal.
Speaker 1: They laughed when they caught my expression, hungry and pouting.
Speaker 1: I fixed you a plate. Don't worry, said Chef, and
Speaker 1: lifted a plaid kitchen towel to show me one piled
Speaker 1: with all my favorites. I pulled up a chair and
Speaker 1: drew the plate toward me. A chef passed over some
Speaker 1: silverware and a napkin. The kitchen was cool and smelled
Speaker 1: already of whatever our special supper would be tonight. I
Speaker 1: spread the napkin over my lap and let out a
Speaker 1: contented sigh. The summer was busy, but in all the
Speaker 1: best ways. Sweet dreams