Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Beach Day

Episode Date: July 29, 2024

Our story tonight is called Beach Day, and it’s a story about cooling off by the water on a hot summer day. It’s also about watermelon and the sloping sandy lake bottom, getting everything from the car in just one trip, a new book that you can’t put down, pinwheels and the magic of floating in the waves. We give to a different charity each week, and this week, we are giving to the Alliance for the Great Lakes. They are a nonpartisan nonprofit working across the region to protect our most precious resource: the fresh, clean, and natural waters of the Great Lakes. Subscribe for ad-free, bonus, and extra-long episodes now, as well as ad-free and early episodes of Stories from the Village of Nothing Much! Search for the NMH Premium channel on Apple podcasts or follow the link below: nothingmuchhappens.com/premium-subscription. Listen to our new show, Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, on your favorite podcast app. Join us tomorrow morning for a meditation at firstthispodcast.com.Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Katherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you'll hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to the Alliance for the Great Lakes. They are a nonpartisan, nonprofit working across the region to protect our most precious resource.

The fresh, clean, and natural waters of the Great Lakes. Learn more about them in our show notes. There is a whole team now, behind the scenes at Nothing Much Happens. Folks who may not know you, but care very much about you. Care that you feel safe and relaxed, and that you get some sleep. Your kind messages are part of our regular meetings. Really, we text them to each other just to share in all the good feelings. You support us, give back to us just by rating and reviewing, listening and sharing the show,

and certainly by subscribing to our premium feeds. Find links to join, as well as our wind-down subscription box, all in our show notes. Now, I have a story to tell you. And just by listening, you'll begin to create a reliable response in your brain and nervous system. It's conditioning, grown-up sleep training, and with time you'll notice yourself dropping off faster and returning to sleep more easily. Patience, if you're new here I'll tell the story twice and I'll go a little slower

the second time through if you wake later in the night don't hesitate to turn a story back on or to just think through any bits of the story that you can remember our story tonight or to just think through any bits of the story that you can remember. Our story tonight is called Beach Day, and it's a story about cooling off by the water on a hot summer day.

It's also about watermelon and the sloping, sandy lake bottom, getting everything from the car in just one trip. A new book that you can't put down. Pinwheels and the magic of floating in the waves. Now, lights out, my dears. Please get as comfortable as you can. Arrange your pillows just the way you like them, and let your whole body relax into the mattress.

You are exactly where you are supposed to be right now. Nothing is missing. Draw a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth. Again, fill it up. And let it go. Good. Beach day. We were having a heat wave

the last two or three days had been sunny and cloudless and today was no different I'd been finding fun ways to manage it I'd made root beer floats which, if you haven't had one in a while, and I hadn't since I was probably 10 years old, I highly recommend. They are simply delicious. And the way the foam crackles from the fizzy soda and the ice cream coming together is really delicious. Another day, I took myself to the movies.

The instant I'd stepped into the theater and let that cool, conditioned air sweep over me. I'd sighed from relief. I'd gotten a cold drink and some popcorn and sat in one of those fancy reclining seats and watched something silly that made me laugh till my sides hurt. I might have even snuck in a small nap at some point. And when the credits rolled, I'd left feeling truly refreshed, wondering if this was the summertime equivalent to a nice long steam in a sauna on a snowy day. Today, I decided, would be a beach day, and I was packing to be able to stay by the water

for as long as I wanted. Admittedly, that took a bit of time, but I'd learned that it genuinely led to a better experience. I used to just grab a towel and a water bottle, but then went with a friend once who dutifully brought a sunshade, lounge chairs, and a stocked cooler and had to admit they were better at beach than I was, and I had learned my lesson. I started in the kitchen, packing cubed watermelon into a container and pulling a bag of pretzels down from the shelf.

Something sweet and cold. Something a little salty to help me stay hydrated this was the perfect recipe in my mind for beach food now I am not someone to yuck another person's yum

but I'd never had the desire to eat heavy fried food in direct sunlight. When I went to the summer fair and smelled the curly fries and the funnel cakes, I never felt tempted to order them. I'd save that for a cool, crisp autumn day. I fell into a daydream for a few moments as I let cold water run over my hands in the sink, thinking about corn stalks coated in frost and soft flannel shirts and October evenings when you can see your breath in the air. I smiled to myself as I shut off the tap and dried my hands on a kitchen towel,

back in the bright summer moment. I filled a bottle with ice and water and lemon slices and added it to the cooler with my snacks and a cold pack. Already in my swimsuit and sundress, I started to load the car. I had a bag packed full of towels and sunscreen, a nice-sized umbrella, and a folding lounge chair with straps

that allowed me to carry it like a backpack, ensuring I could almost certainly get everything from the car to the beach in one trip. At the last moment, I remembered my book, and thank goodness I did. My neighbor and I trade books all the time, and this one had been handed to me across the fence in our adjoining backyards the night before. He'd had a smug look on his face as he passed it over, saying, You are going to love this. You are going to read it all in one day. Call me tomorrow and tell me I'm wrong. I dare you.

I'd stuck my tongue out at his self-satisfied tone, but snatched up the book because he was usually right about such things. And when I'd sat down with it and my coffee this morning, intending to just flip through the first few pages and accidentally read three chapters without stopping, I had to admit, he'd struck gold again. Now I grabbed it from the kitchen table and tucked it into my beach bags with my towels and finally set off for the beach.

There's a long, winding road that climbs a sandy dune on the way there. And I took it slow in case any deer were out. I didn't spot any. I guessed they were laying low in the heat as well. Probably stretched out in some shady glen napping through till evening. The beach was busy and it took a moment to find a spot to park but once I had I was able to load up my arms with all the goodies and waddle out onto the sand.

Though a lot of folks were out today, the beach was deep with plenty of space. I claimed some and started to set up. Once my umbrella was open, I laid out an extra-large towel and set my lounge chair on top of it. I settled in with my icy water bottle and my book, letting out a deep sigh. There was a breeze here by the water that had been absent at home,

and it blew through my umbrella, making the shady space quite comfortable. At the blankets to my right, they'd stuck pinwheels into the sand, blue and white, and I watched them spin and listened to the waves rolling in. Lake water smells sweeter than ocean water. The missing salinity must be part of the recipe, but, I imagined, it was also the different plants, different life growing in and around the lake.

I took a long drink of cold water and dove into my book, only coming up again when the heat had built enough to make a swim feel absolutely necessary. I tucked in my bookmark and climbed to my feet. Kids were running up and down the beach, filling buckets with water to carry to the moats around their sandcastles and racing friends. I remembered those days of meeting other kids and within minutes, becoming friends and starting a game. Nothing mattered as much as play. I strolled down the sand, liking the way it slid under my feet.

At the edge of the water I eased my toes in and let out a little gasp as a wave crashed over my ankles. It was colder than I expected but I chose to think of it as refreshing and inched further in. The kids who played in the shallows didn't seem to notice the chill, and I watched as a dad buckled his toddler into a swim vest. I had a sudden memory of my mom and me at the same beach when I was very little, her dunking a water wing in to make it easier to slide up my arm.

Then me feeling the funny way they made my arms stick out from my sides when I was out of the water and the buoyant bounce they gave me when I jumped in. I'd graduated from the water wings to a kickboard at some point, and by the time I'd gone to camp, I was a strong swimmer. I still like to do laps in a pool now and then, but today I just wanted to float about like an otter.

The sandy bottom sloped away, and I ventured in until the water was up to my waist. I waited another moment, knowing that as soon as I dove all the way in, the cold would actually feel delicious, and I'd wonder why I'd hesitated. And I took a deep breath and leaned into a coming wave, letting it lift my feet from the lake bottom. The cool water glazed over my shoulders, and I felt weightless and happy and began to swim. Beach day. We were having a heat wave. The last two or three days had been sunny and cloudless, and today was no different.

I'd been finding fun ways to manage it. I'd made root beer floats, which, if you haven't had one in a while, and I hadn't since I was probably ten years old, I highly recommend. They are simply delicious. And the way the foam crackles from the fizzy soda and the ice cream coming together is really delightful. Another day,

I took myself to the movies. The instant I'd stepped into the theater and let that cool, conditioned air sweep over me, I'd sighed from relief. I'd gotten a tall, cold drink and some popcorn and sat in one of those fancy reclining seats and watched something silly that made me laugh till my sides hurt. I might have even snuck in a small nap at some point. And when the credits rolled, I'd left feeling truly refreshed, wondering if this was the summertime equivalent to a nice long steam in a sauna on a sunny day. Today, I decided, would be a beach day,

and I was packing to be able to stay by the water for as long as I wanted. Admittedly, that took a bit of time, but I'd learned that it genuinely led to a better experience. I used to just grab a towel and a water bottle, but then went with a friend once who dutifully brought a sunshade, lounge chairs, and a stocked cooler, and had to admit they were better at beach than I was, and I'd learned my lesson.

I started in the kitchen, packing cubed watermelon into a container and pulling a bag of pretzels down from the shelf. Something sweet and cold. Something a little salty to help me stay hydrated. This was the perfect recipe, in my mind, for beach food. Now, I am not someone to yuck another person's yum. But I'd never had the desire to eat heavy, fried food in direct sunlight. When I went to the summer fair and smelled the curly fries and the funnel cakes. I never felt tempted to order them.

I'd save that for a cool, crisp autumn day. I fell into a daydream for a few moments as I let cold water run over my hands in the sink, thinking about corn stalks coated in frost and soft flannel shirts and October evenings when you can see your breath in the air. I smiled to myself as I shut off the tap

and dried my hands on a kitchen towel. Back in the bright summer moment, I filled a bottle with ice and water and lemon slices. Added it to the cooler with my snacks and a cold pack. Already in my swimsuit and sundress, I started to load the car. I had a bag packed full of towels and sunscreen, a nice-sized umbrella,

and a folding lounge chair with straps that allowed me to carry it like a backpack, ensuring I could almost certainly get everything from the car to the beach in one trip. At the last moment, I remembered my book, and thank goodness I did. My neighbor and I trade books all the time, and this one had been handed to me across the fence in our adjoining backyards the night before. He'd had a smug look on his face as he passed it over, saying, You are going to love this. You are going to read it all in one day. Call me tomorrow and tell me I'm wrong.

I dare you. I'd stuck my tongue out at his self-satisfied tone, but snatched up the book because he was usually right about such things. And when I'd sat down with it and my coffee this morning, intending to just flip through the first few pages and accidentally read three chapters without stopping, I had to admit, He'd struck gold again. Now I grabbed it from the kitchen table and tucked it into my beach bags with my towels

and finally set off for the beach. There's a long, winding road that climbs a sandy dune on the way there, and I took it slow in case any deer were out. I didn't spot any. I guessed they were laying low in the heat as well. Probably stretched out in some shady glen, napping through till evening. The beach was busy

and it took a moment to find a spot to park. But once I had, I was able to load up my arms with all my goodies and waddle out onto the sand. Though a lot of folks were out today, the beach was deep with plenty of space, I settled in with my icy water bottle and my book, letting out a deep sigh. There was a breeze here by the water that had been absent at home. And it blew through my umbrella, making the shady space quite comfortable. At the blankets to my right,

they'd stuck pinwheels into the sand, blue and white, and I watched them spin and listened to the waves rolling in. Lake water smells sweeter than ocean water. The missing salinity must be part of the recipe. But I imagined it was also the different plants, different life, growing in and around the lake.

I took a long drink of cold water and dove into my book, only coming up again when the heat had built enough to make a swim feel absolutely necessary. I tucked in my bookmark and climbed to my feet. Kids were running up and down the beach, filling buckets with water to carry to the moats around their sandcastles and racing friends. I remembered those days of meeting other kids and within minutes becoming friends and starting a game. Nothing mattered as much as play. I strolled down the sand, liking the way it slid under my feet.

At the edge of the water, I eased my toes in and let out a little gasp as a wave crashed over my ankles. It was colder than I'd expected, but I chose to think of it as refreshing and inched further in. The kids who played in the shallows didn't seem to notice the chill, and I watched as a dad buckled his toddler into a swim vest. I had a sudden memory of my mom and me at this same beach when I was very little. Her dunking a water wing in to make it easier to slide up my arm. Then me, feeling the funny way they made my arms stick out

from my sides when I was out of the water and the buoyant bounce they gave me when I jumped in. I'd graduated from the water wings to a kickboard at some point. And by the time I'd gone to camp, I was a strong swimmer. I still liked to do laps in a pool now and then, but today I just wanted to float about like an otter. The sandy bottom sloped away, and I ventured further in until the water was up to my waist. I waited another moment, knowing that as soon as I dove all the way in, the cold would actually feel delicious, and I'd wonder why I'd hesitated.

Then I took a deep breath and leaned into a coming wave, letting it lift my feet from the lake bottom. The cool water glazed over my shoulders, and I felt weightless and happy. And I began to swim. Sweet dreams.