Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - A Walk in the Woods

Episode Date: June 30, 2018

Our story tonight is called "A Walk in the Woods" and it’s a story about getting far out into nature and trading in your usual cares for the sights and sounds of the countryside. It’s also about the pleasures of wandering, whirlybirds falling to the forest floor, and being alone. So get cozy and ready to sleep. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Grownups, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nicolai, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We only have a couple stories left in this, our first season of Nothing Much Happens. So be sure to subscribe now so you don't miss a single episode of our next season, which will come out in the fall of this year. I have so many stories to tell you

about kicking through fallen leaves and the feeling of cool autumn air on your face. Stories about putting out pumpkins on front stoops and baking pies and feeling the first snowflake of the season land on your cheek. If you enjoy our stories, please, share them any way you can, with anyone who likes relaxing and good sleep. And follow us on Facebook and Instagram for some extra coziness.

Now let me say a little about how to use this podcast. I'm about to tell you a bedtime story to help you relax and to ease your mind into sleep. The story is simple and not much happens in it. And that is the idea. Just let your mind follow along with the details of what you hear, and the sound of my voice. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through. If you find that you are still awake at the end of the second telling, not to worry. That's just fine.

You could listen again, or just walk yourself back through any of the details that you remember. And before you know it, you'll be sinking down into a deep and restful sleep. This is a kind of brain training, and the more you do it, the more your sleep will improve. So be patient if you are new to this. Now it's time to switch off the light. Set aside anything you've been working on or playing with and settle your body into the most comfortable position that you can find. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose

and out through your mouth. Nice. Do that one more time. Breathe in, and out. Good. Our story tonight is called A Walk in the Woods, and it's a story about getting far out into nature and trading in your usual cares for the sights and the sounds of the

countryside. It's also about the pleasures of wandering, whirly birds falling to the forest floor, and being alone. Sometimes nothing will do but getting yourself deep into the woods and walking. And that was what today was for. It was a warm morning at the end of the summer, and I was driving out to my favorite trail in a state park near my home.

I went two or three times a week and walked for an hour at least, sometimes having to force myself to turn around and head back so I wouldn't be late to work or some appointment. But today I had no other plans and no place to be so I would wander and walk to my heart's content. The park was quiet, and I rolled the windows down as I drove slowly over the winding road to the very back where the trail, my trail, began.

I saw only a few other cars and bikes on my way in and nodded to each in turn. There is a quiet camaraderie among the people who hike and bike in parks. We're glad that other people are enjoying the land, but we don't want to talk. Most of what we're there for is peace and quiet. I parked my car and stepped out into the humid summer air. I took a few slow breaths and pulled the clean atmosphere deep into my lungs. There is a way that the woods smell in the summertime that stops you in your tracks and gives you such a feeling of bone-deep rightness

that you can only stand still and let it permeate through every layer of yourself. It's the smell of potent, dark green health and abundancy, and it was all around me already. I checked my pockets. I had some peppermint lip balm, my car key, a fully charged phone and earbuds, and a flask of water.

Sometimes I didn't listen to anything when I walked, especially on days when I felt overstimulated to begin with. After all, the woods supply a soundtrack that is hard to compete with. But today I had a new book to listen to, a long, tangled mystery to dip my mind into. And wandering through the story, while I wandered through the woods, sounded like a superb treat. The trail started out as crushed stone,

with fields of high grasses on either side, and it took a few minutes' walk to make it into the cover of the trees and loose sight of the car. There were grasshoppers jumping in a path, and a few birds with scarlet wings and shiny black bodies skimming over the grasses into the trees. I took my time. I followed the path at my leisure, stopping to look at flowing creeks,

running my hands over a knotted burl on a tree, and listening to woodpeckers high in the branches above me, and then picking up my pace again and feeling the pleasant fatigue in my legs and the warmth in my body. The trail was sometimes flat and even and surrounded by ferns and hostas. Then it rose high along a hillside, and I climbed, breathing hard, and looking down into the patch of tree trunks on the forest floor,

I watched the whirly birds of maple trees catching bits of sunlight as they fell. Those winged seeds? They're called samaras. I said the word aloud. Samara. Then I walked on. I listened to my story, overlaying the characters and scenescapes of the book on the woods around me. The trail has shortcuts and loops and smaller paths, pathlets that lead off in different directions. I took some of them and saw new spots I hadn't seen before. Who was the last person to have stood here, I wondered. Has it been years? Decades? Am

I the first? The light began to change, and I felt the cool breeze of a coming rainstorm. I stopped my story and tucked my earbuds into my pocket. I didn't want to miss the sound of a rising wind pushing through the leaves. I felt light and cool, and nearly ran through the trails on soft-packed dirt and pine needles, and listened as rain began to fall on the canopy above me. It poured on me as I burst out of the cover of the trees and made straight for my car. The cool rain soaked into me and made me laugh and shriek as I fumbled with my key.

Then I tucked down into my car and, wiping my glasses on my shirt, tittered to myself as the rain drummed down around me. I thought for a moment of warm, dry clothes at home, a long lunch with the company of my book, and stretching out on my sofa with the windows cracked and a cool cat's-paw breeze moving around me. And I started for home. Sometimes, nothing will do but getting yourself deep into the woods and walking. And that was what today was for.

It was a warm morning at the end of the summer, and I was driving out to my favorite trail, an estate park near my home. I went two or three times a week, and walked for an hour at least, sometimes having to force myself to turn around and head back, so I wouldn't be late to work or some appointment. But today I had no other plans and no place to be, so I would wander and walk to my heart's content.

The park was quiet, and I rolled the windows down as I drove over the winding road to the very back where the trail, my trail, began. I saw only a few other cars and bikes on my way in, and nodded to each in turn. There is a quiet camaraderie among the people who hike and bike in parks. We're glad that other people are enjoying the land, but we don't want to talk. Most of what we're there for is peace and quiet. I parked my car and stepped out into the humid summer air.

I took a few slow breaths and pulled the clean atmosphere deep into my lungs. There is a way that the woods smell in the summertime that stops you in your tracks and gives you such a feeling of bone-deep rightness that you can only stand still and let it permeate through every layer of yourself. It's the smell of potent, dark green health and abundancy.

And it was all around me already. I checked my pockets. I had some peppermint lip balm, my car key, a fully charged phone and earbuds and a flask of water. Sometimes I didn't listen to anything when I walked, especially on days when I felt overstimulated to begin with. After all, the woods supply a soundtrack that's hard to compete with. But today I had a new book to listen to, a long, tangled mystery to dip my mind into.

And wandering through the story, while I wandered through the woods, sounded like a superb treat. The trail started out as crushed stone with fields of high grasses on either side. And it took a few minutes' walk to make it into the cover of the trees and lose sight of the car. There were grasshoppers jumping in the path,

and a few birds with scarlet wings and shiny black bodies skimming over the grasses into the trees. I took my time. I followed the path at my leisure, stopping to look at flowing creeks, running my hands over a knotted burl on a tree, and listening to woodpeckers high in the branches above me, and then picking up my pace again, and feeling the pleasant fatigue in my legs,

and the warmth in my body. The trail was sometimes flat and even, and surrounded by ferns and hostas. Then it rose high along a hillside, and I climbed, breathing hard, and looking down into a patch of tree trunks on the forest floor. I watched the whirly birds of maple trees catching bits of sunlight as they fell. Those winged seeds? They're called samaras.

I said the word aloud. Samara. Then I walked on. I listened to my story, overlaying the characters and scenescapes of the book on the woods around me. The trail has shortcuts and loops and smaller paths, pathlets that lead off in different directions. I took some of them and saw new spots I hadn't seen before. Who was the last person to have stood here, I wondered. Has it been years?

Decades? Am I the first? The light began to change, and I felt the cool breeze of a coming rainstorm. I stopped my story and tucked my earbuds into my pocket. I didn't want to miss the sound of a rising wind pushing through the leaves. I felt light and cool. I nearly ran through the trails on soft-packed dirt and pine needles and listened as rain began to fall on the canopy above me.

It poured on me as I burst out of the cover of the trees and made straight for my car. The cool rain soaked into me and made me laugh and shriek as I fumbled with the key. Then I tucked down into my car, and wiping my glasses on my shirt, tittered to myself as the rain drummed down around me. I thought for a moment of warm, dry clothes at home, a long lunch with the company of my book, and stretching out on my sofa with the

windows cracked and a cool cat's paw breeze moving around me. I started for home. Sweet dreams.