Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime stories for grown ups, and which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: I'm Catherine Nikolay. I read and write all the stories
Speaker 1: you hear and nothing much happens. With audio engineering by
Speaker 1: Bob Wittersheim, we keep expanding the world of nothing much
Speaker 1: for you. A beautifully illustrated book, an audio book, add
Speaker 1: free and bonus episodes, and now a morning friendly ten
Speaker 1: minute meditation called first This learn more at Nothing Much
Speaker 1: Happens dot com. Now just to Your body needs a
Speaker 1: bed to sleep in. Your mind needs a place to rest,
Speaker 1: someplace calm and safe and simple. That's what the story is.
Speaker 1: A place to rest your mind. I'll tell the story twice,
Speaker 1: and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: As you listen, pull the details of the story around
Speaker 1: you like a blanket, imagine yourself in the story, and
Speaker 1: before you know it, likely long before I finish reading,
Speaker 1: you'll be deeply and peacefully asleep. If you wake again
Speaker 1: in the middle of the night, you can turn the
Speaker 1: show right back on and you'll probably fall asleep even faster.
Speaker 1: We're subtly affecting your brain activity with this technique, and
Speaker 1: it will make your sleep skills stronger and stronger over time.
Speaker 1: Now it's time to settle in and set yourself up
Speaker 1: for sleep. Turn off the light, set aside anything you've
Speaker 1: been looking at or working on. Adjust your pillows and
Speaker 1: comforter until you feel completely at ease. If you tend
Speaker 1: to clench your jaw at night, place the tip of
Speaker 1: your tongue at the spot where your top teeth meet
Speaker 1: the gums on the inside, and feel your bottom jaw release. Now,
Speaker 1: take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh
Speaker 1: through the mouth again. Breathe in and out. Good. Our
Speaker 1: story tonight is called Hummingbird, and it's a story about
Speaker 1: the calm after the storm. It's also about a cool
Speaker 1: glass of iced coffee, drunk on the front steps, a
Speaker 1: visitor to the Hellenium flowers, and making a habit out
Speaker 1: of noticing when things are good. Hummingbird. The morning after
Speaker 1: the rainstorm was fresh and quiet. I laid in bed,
Speaker 1: sometimes dozing back into sleep, trying to step back into
Speaker 1: a particularly nice dream while the light slowly shifted around me.
Speaker 1: I left the windows cracked as much as I could overnight,
Speaker 1: and the air was still cool and pure, smelling as
Speaker 1: if its very molecules had been washed, which I guess
Speaker 1: they sort of had. The birds seemed slow to wake
Speaker 1: when I imagined them tucked in the nooks of trees,
Speaker 1: in the nests in my shrubs, and in the houses
Speaker 1: hanging from the branches of the elm tree my yard.
Speaker 1: When the sun was fully risen, they started to sing
Speaker 1: to see that the storm was over and another day
Speaker 1: was starting. It seemed a good time for me to
Speaker 1: follow suit, and I pulled back the blankets and set
Speaker 1: my feet on the floor. I thought of that, saying
Speaker 1: about getting up on the right side of the bed,
Speaker 1: and took a second before I stood, just to think
Speaker 1: of something good from the previous twenty four hours. Doing
Speaker 1: this almost always helped me to get up in a
Speaker 1: good frame of mind, and I found once I started
Speaker 1: looking for one thing, I found another and another, and
Speaker 1: it was like priming a pump. I'd see more things
Speaker 1: to smile at all day. I thought of sitting on
Speaker 1: my screened in porch the night before, as the rain
Speaker 1: began to pour down around me, how the sound of
Speaker 1: it had driven all thoughts from my head, all worries
Speaker 1: from my heart, how my garden would be happy for
Speaker 1: a deep drink of water, and the left over tibouli
Speaker 1: in my fridge would taste even better after a night
Speaker 1: of flavor mingling. See, I'd tried for one good thing,
Speaker 1: and before I even knew it, I had found three.
Speaker 1: I stood, I took a deep breath and stretched my
Speaker 1: arms up over my head. I laced my fingers together
Speaker 1: and flipped my palms inside out. It felt good just
Speaker 1: to move a little after that deep sleep, and I
Speaker 1: stretched any which way for a few minutes. Down in
Speaker 1: the kitchen, I pushed the window over the sink up
Speaker 1: till the morning air rolled in. I could feel that
Speaker 1: it would be another warm day. Iced coffee would really
Speaker 1: hit the spot. I took a large mason jar from
Speaker 1: the cupboard and added a good scoop of ice to it,
Speaker 1: then took a picture of cold brew from the fridge,
Speaker 1: along with a carton of oat milk. I like to
Speaker 1: watch the milk cut through the dark coffee, marbling the
Speaker 1: liquid like fog dispersing in warm are. I'd tried making
Speaker 1: my own coffee syrup from a recipe a friend had
Speaker 1: given me a while back, and found out how easy
Speaker 1: and delicious it was. I now had a little collection
Speaker 1: of bottles on my shelf, and I considered which one
Speaker 1: to reach for. I'd made the classics hazel nut and cinnamon,
Speaker 1: and brown sugar and almond, but had also tried rose
Speaker 1: and cardamon, and oh perfect for today, lavender. It had
Speaker 1: a light, floral, sweet flavor, and I added just a
Speaker 1: few drops to my drink and stirred it all with
Speaker 1: the long handled iced teaspoon. I carried it out to
Speaker 1: the porch and pushed open the screen door. The sun
Speaker 1: had already dried up the rain on the stone steps,
Speaker 1: and I sat down on the second one from the top.
Speaker 1: I took a long drink of my coffee and smiled
Speaker 1: at how delicious it was. A movement caught my eye,
Speaker 1: and I spotted a humming bird hovering near the hellenium flowers,
Speaker 1: just a few feet away. If you have never seen
Speaker 1: a hummingbird move, you might call it flying, but that
Speaker 1: doesn't do it justice. They seemed to stop time the
Speaker 1: way they'd drop through the air. They looked too fascinating
Speaker 1: to be real, like a bit of animation that's been
Speaker 1: inserted into the mundane world. He had a bright red
Speaker 1: spot on his throat, and his green feathers shimmered like
Speaker 1: the iridescent wings of a dragonfly. I sat stock still,
Speaker 1: wanting the moment to go on as long as may be,
Speaker 1: and it seemed like he was doing the same thing,
Speaker 1: just sitting still in the air, although of course his
Speaker 1: wings were beating more than a dozen times each second.
Speaker 1: I wondered what he thought of me, if he thought
Speaker 1: anything at all, and if he would like my homemade
Speaker 1: lavender syrup. Being a connoisseur of sweet flowery flavors. He
Speaker 1: dipped his long, thin beak toward a flower, and I
Speaker 1: remembered that the common name for Hellenium autumnale was sneezeweed.
Speaker 1: It was like an irresistible suggestion, like watching someone yawn,
Speaker 1: and though I tried to fight it, I let out
Speaker 1: a loud, sudden, stern mutation. I laughed at myself. As
Speaker 1: the humming bird flew off to find breakfast in peace
Speaker 1: somewhere else. I stayed on the porch steps, finishing my
Speaker 1: coffee and watching the dewy grass scintillate in the sun.
Speaker 1: I made toast in the kitchen while I thought about
Speaker 1: what I wanted my morning to look like. The garden
Speaker 1: would be pretty muddy for a while after last night's deluge.
Speaker 1: I could certainly see myself spending some time here in
Speaker 1: the kitchen making a batch of pumpkinseed muffins or a
Speaker 1: tray of granola, but thought that before I did anything else,
Speaker 1: I wanted to be outside and move my body. I
Speaker 1: considered doing some sun salutations on my porch, but I
Speaker 1: realized what I really wanted was a good long walk.
Speaker 1: Someone had said to me years before that the best
Speaker 1: kind of exercise it's the kind that you like to do,
Speaker 1: and that made a lot of sense to me. So
Speaker 1: while movement was a pretty consistent part of my days,
Speaker 1: I didn't stick to just one kind, and today I
Speaker 1: wanted to walk, maybe even to run, or certainly to perambulate.
Speaker 1: I spread my toast with a thick layer of peanut
Speaker 1: butter and strawberry jam and crunched through it at my
Speaker 1: kitchen table, then set the dish in the sink and
Speaker 1: went to get dressed. I'd walked down my long drive
Speaker 1: and out to the road. From there, i'd turned toward
Speaker 1: the lake. The crickets would be loud in the high
Speaker 1: grass on either side, and at the water, i'd stop
Speaker 1: on a bench and watch for herons. I thought of
Speaker 1: myself in bed this morning, sleepily trying to retreat back
Speaker 1: into my dream. But why there were so many good
Speaker 1: things to notice every day? Hummingbird. The morning after the
Speaker 1: rainstorm was fresh and quiet. I laid in bed, sometimes
Speaker 1: dozing back into sleep, trying to step back into a
Speaker 1: particularly nice dream, while the light slowly shifted around me.
Speaker 1: I left the windows cracked as much as I could overnight,
Speaker 1: and the air was still cool and pure, smelling as
Speaker 1: if its very molecules had been washed, which I guess
Speaker 1: they sort of had. The birds seemed slow to wake,
Speaker 1: and I imagined them tucked in the nooks of trees,
Speaker 1: in their nests in my shrubs, and in the houses
Speaker 1: hanging from the branches of the elm tree in my yard.
Speaker 1: When the sun was fully risen, they started to sing.
Speaker 1: To see that the storm was over and another day
Speaker 1: was starting. It seemed a good time for me to
Speaker 1: follow suit, and I pulled back the blankets and set
Speaker 1: my feet on the floor. I thought of that saying,
Speaker 1: the one about getting up on the right side of
Speaker 1: the bed, and took a second before I stood, just
Speaker 1: to think of something good from the previous twenty four hours.
Speaker 1: Doing this almost always helped me to get up in
Speaker 1: a good frame of mind, And I found once I
Speaker 1: started looking for one thing, I'd find another, ran another,
Speaker 1: and it was like priming a pump. I'd see more
Speaker 1: things to smile at all day. I thought of sitting
Speaker 1: on my screened in porch the night before, as the
Speaker 1: rain began to pour down around me. How the sound
Speaker 1: of it had driven all thoughts from my head, all
Speaker 1: worries from my heart. How my garden would be happy
Speaker 1: for a deep drink of water, and the left over
Speaker 1: tubouli in my fridge that would taste even better after
Speaker 1: a night of flavor mingling. See, I'd tried for one
Speaker 1: good thing, and before I even knew it, I had
Speaker 1: found three. I stood and took a deep breath and
Speaker 1: stretched my arms up over my head. I laced my
Speaker 1: fingers together and flipped my palms inside out. It felt
Speaker 1: so good just to move a little after that deep sleep,
Speaker 1: that I stretched many which way for a few minutes.
Speaker 1: Down in the kitchen, I pushed the window over the
Speaker 1: sync up till the morning air rolled in. I could
Speaker 1: feel that it would be another warm day. Iced coffee
Speaker 1: would really hit the spot. I took a large mason
Speaker 1: jar from the cupboard and added a good scoop of
Speaker 1: ice to it, then took a picture of cold brew
Speaker 1: from the fridge along with the carton of oat milk.
Speaker 1: I liked to watch the milk cut through the dark coffee, marbling,
Speaker 1: the liquid like fog dispersing in warm air. I tried
Speaker 1: making my own coffee syrup from a recipe a friend
Speaker 1: had given me a while back, and found out how
Speaker 1: easy and delicious it was. I now had a little
Speaker 1: collection of bottles on my shelf, and I considered which
Speaker 1: one to reach for. I'd made the classics hazelnut and cinnamon,
Speaker 1: brown sugar and almond, but had also tried rows and cardamon,
Speaker 1: and oh perfect for today, lavender. It had a light, floral,
Speaker 1: sweet flavor, and I added just a few drops to
Speaker 1: my drink and stirred it all with a long handled
Speaker 1: iced teaspoon. I carried it out to the porch and
Speaker 1: pushed open the screen door. The sun had already dried
Speaker 1: up the rain on the stone steps, and I sat
Speaker 1: down on the second one from the top. I took
Speaker 1: a long drink of my coffee and smiled at how
Speaker 1: delicious it was. A movement caught my eye and I
Speaker 1: spotted a humming bird hovering near the Hellenium flowers just
Speaker 1: a few feet away. If you have never seen a
Speaker 1: humming bird move, you might call it flying, but that
Speaker 1: doesn't do it justice. They seemed to stop time the
Speaker 1: way they drop through the air. They look too fascinating
Speaker 1: to be real, like a bit of animation that's been
Speaker 1: inserted into the mundane world. He had a bright red
Speaker 1: spot on his throat, and his green feathers shimmer like
Speaker 1: the iridescent wings of a dragonfly. I sat stock still,
Speaker 1: wanting the moment to go on as long as maybe,
Speaker 1: and it seemed like he was doing the same, just
Speaker 1: sitting in the air, although of course his wings were
Speaker 1: beating more than a dozen times each second. I wondered
Speaker 1: what he thought of me, if he thought anything at all,
Speaker 1: and if he would like my homemade lavender syrup, being
Speaker 1: a connoisseur of sweet flowery flavors. He dipped his long,
Speaker 1: thin beak toward a flower, and I remembered that the
Speaker 1: common name for Hellenium autumnale was sneeze weed. It was
Speaker 1: like an irresistible suggestion, like watching someone yawn, and though
Speaker 1: I tried to fight it, I let out a loud, sudden,
Speaker 1: stern notation. I laughed at myself as the humming bird
Speaker 1: flew off to find breakfast in peace somewhere else. I
Speaker 1: stayed on the porch steps, finishing my coffee and watching
Speaker 1: the dewy grass scintillate in the sun. I made toast
Speaker 1: in the kitchen while I thought about what I wanted
Speaker 1: my morning to look like. The garden would be pretty
Speaker 1: muddy for a while after last night's deluge. I could
Speaker 1: certainly see myself bending some time here in the kitchen,
Speaker 1: making a batch of pumpkinseed muffins or a tray of granola.
Speaker 1: But thought that before I did anything else, I wanted
Speaker 1: to be outside and move my body. I considered doing
Speaker 1: some sun salutations on my porch, but I realized what
Speaker 1: I really wanted was a good long walk. Someone had
Speaker 1: said to me years before that the best kind of
Speaker 1: exercise as the kind that you like to do, and
Speaker 1: that had made a lot of sense to me. So
Speaker 1: while movement was a pretty consistent part of my days,
Speaker 1: I didn't stick to just one kind, and today I
Speaker 1: wanted to walk, maybe even to run, or certainly to perambulate.
Speaker 1: I spread my toast with a thick layer of peanut
Speaker 1: butter and strawberry jam and crunched through it at my
Speaker 1: kitchen table, then set the dish in the sink and
Speaker 1: went to get dressed. I'd walk down my long drive
Speaker 1: and out to the road. From there, I'd turned toward
Speaker 1: the lake. The crickets would be loud in the high
Speaker 1: grass on either side, and at the water I'd stop
Speaker 1: on a bench and watch for herons. I thought of
Speaker 1: myself in bed this morning, sleepily trying to retreat back
Speaker 1: into my dream. But why there were so many good
Speaker 1: things to notice every day? Sweet dreams