Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Field Trip Part Two

Episode Date: October 3, 2022

Our story tonight is called “Field Trip, Part Two” and it’s a story about a bus ride out to the pumpkin patch. It’s also about a cold glass of cider enjoyed in the autumn air, a pumpkin with a curly green stem, and making a memory that will last.Order the book now!Get our ad-free and bonus episodes!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 create everything you hear on Nothing Much Happens. With audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. People often tell me they wish they could live in the little village I write about, and I agree with them. I'm always working on creating more ways into it.

Stories here, my book, an audio book, my website, where you can see it illustrated by Lealee Piver, our merch, and our social feeds, where we post cozy pictures and host community. Thank you for being here, for sharing us with others. We're glad to be your soft landing. Now, since every episode is someone's first, let me say a bit about how this works. Your brain can easily slip into its default mode network. This is sort of what your brain does when it doesn't have a job to do. It's staticky and racing and keeps you up.

When we give your brain a job to do, like following along with my voice and the simple shape of the story, it shifts to the task mode network, and that allows you to sleep. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through. If you wake in the middle of the night, you can shift back into task mode by listening again or just thinking your way back through any part of the story you can remember. Sometimes just thinking of the title will be enough.

It's brain training, and it gets stronger with practice. Now, it's time. Lights out, please. Burrow into your sheets and comforter and set yourself up as comfortably as you can. The day is done. and set yourself up as comfortably as you can. The day is done. Whatever it was like, it is done now.

And you're safe, and I will keep watch as you sleep. Take a slow breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Again, in and out. Good. Our story tonight is called Field Trip, Part 2. And it's a story about a bus ride out to the pumpkin patch. It's also about a cold glass of cider enjoyed in the autumn air. A pumpkin with a curly green stem

and making a memory that will last. Field Trip, Part 2 We were lined up along the fence beside the playground. We tried to stay in a neat row, waiting to get on the bus, but we were all a little excited. I was there with my nephew, who reached for me when we swung our cupped hands back and forth between us. We were on our way to the pumpkin patch, and he'd asked a few weeks before if I wanted to go along as class chaperone.

Of course, I had said yes. We did a lot of little things together. Walked his dog, watched movies, ran errands. But I hoped today would be a memory that really stuck for him. The day he and his auntie had gone to pick out a pumpkin. Among the kids, there were a half dozen or so adults coming along for the ride, and together we all climbed up onto the bus. My nephew tugged me along toward the back

and nudged me into a seat. I thought he might like the window seat, but realized as we sat down that he was still a good head or two too short to see out. Never mind. He was excited to talk to his classmates seated around him and to introduce me to them. I recognized a couple names from stories he'd told me about his best friends at school,

and I smiled at them and thought about what I was like when I was their age. Undoubtedly, I had sat on a similar bus on my way to a similar day out. And someone's parent or neighbor had met me. And what had they thought? It's hard to have a concept of yourself at that age. So, it was just a guess, but I think I had been the opposite of shy. I'd been a bit loud and very friendly. I think I must have talked non-stop. I looked at the kids around me,

thinking that there were all different kinds of kids in the rows of seats, and that they all had a journey ahead of them, till they felt completely like themselves. The bus bumped along the roads, as we made our way out of town and toward our destination. It was a pumpkin patch,

but also a cider mill with acres of apple groves all around it. And as an autumn enthusiast, I had already been twice this year. I'd stopped by once to fill the back of my car with pumpkins and gourds. And another time had come just for some cider and a bag of apples. The dirt road was rutted, and the bus slowed down as we bounced in the seats. I spotted a rafter of turkeys

waddling into the woods. My nephew had to push himself up a little bit to spy through the window, and then we spent a few minutes seeing who could make the best gobble-gobble sound. When the bus finally pulled into the orchard's parking lot, we were more than ready to start our pumpkin adventures. The teacher stood at the front of the bus to give us a few reminders, and I remembered so vividly the feeling of having to wait as a child, of trying to listen, but being so close to an exciting moment

that it felt nearly impossible. My nephew kicked his feet and twisted in his seat to look this way and that. I and the other grown-ups did our best to soak up the information, nodding at the teacher to show him that we had heard. And finally, with a good-natured laugh. He told us to have fun, and we all jumped to our feet and scuttled off the bus. It was a cool, crisp, cloudy day. Now and then the sun would peek through, far off in the distance, and a thicket of trees on the horizon would glow with golden light. The leaves were turning now.

Not every tree, but lots of them. And the air itself smelled of hay and spice. The kids were broken up into groups, and I steered ours over to a field with rows and rows of pumpkins. They ran through the rows, giddily stopping here and there to pat the rounded gourds and feel their prickly stems we investigated all the different shapes

and sizes there were small, very round pumpkins that I knew from experience were the best for making pies, and tall ones with straight stems that made good jack-o'-lanterns, with lots of surface space for carving out a face. Most were orange, but some were white, and others were green. They even had some of my favorites, which looked like fairy tale pumpkins. They were squat and flattish on top. They had smooth, shiny skin and curly stems.

My nephew squatted down next to one, and his eyes went wide as he reached out to touch it. Just like in Cinderella, he said. And we talked about the pumpkin bouncing down the country road, transforming into a carriage. Most of the other little ones in our group had picked out pie pumpkins, as they were perfectly sized for their little arms, and they'd been encouraged to only select a pumpkin they could carry. But I could tell right then that this one would be coming home with us, one way or another. Can I get the Cinderella pumpkin? My nephew asked me, hopeful and excited.

Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, I whispered to him from a few inches away and pretended to tap my magic wand against my hand to get the sparkles flowing. We found a little cart in the next row over, and together we hoisted the pumpkin into it. The kids in our group saw us, and soon we had all the pumpkins in the cart and a bunch of little hands pulling it through the field. We all waddled back toward his teacher, who was standing by a long picnic table at the entrance to the orchard's shop when we unloaded our finds. His teacher found his and his friend's names

on a sheet of stickers, and we stuck them on so we didn't get our pumpkins mixed up. By now, we had worked up an appetite, and we could smell cinnamon and sugar donuts, and were thirsty for cider. So we stepped into the shop and looked around. Real apple cider, made fresh from just picked apples, is a very special thing. If you've only ever had it from a jug in a grocery store that might have traveled days to get to you, you don't know how it can quench your thirst and fill you up with energy. It is sweet and tart and rich and I liked mine very cold.

On a counter in the back, they had laid out for us cups full of cold cider and plates stacked with donuts. I helped my young charges to each get a cup and a plate and stuffed a handful of napkins into my pocket as I took my own. We stepped back out into the cool air and found a place at a table to eat and drink and look out at the apple trees. I knew we'd have a lot of sticky fingers and tired campers in a bit, but I hoped we'd made a few memories that would last.

Field Trip, Part 2 We were lined up along the fence beside the playground. We tried to stay in a neat row, waiting to get on the bus, but we were all a little excited. I was there with my nephew, who reached for me, and we swung our cupped hands back and forth between us. We were on our way to the pumpkin patch,

and he'd asked me a few weeks before if I wanted to go along as class chaperone. Of course, I had said yes. We did a lot of little things together. Walked his dog, watched movies, and ran errands. But I hoped today would be a memory that really stuck for him. The day he and his auntie had gone to pick out a pumpkin. Among the kids, there were a half dozen or so adults coming along for the ride, and together we all climbed up onto the bus. My nephew tugged me along toward the back and nudged me onto a seat. I thought he might like the window seat, but realized as we sat down that he was still a good head or two too short to see out. Never mind.

He was excited to talk to his classmates seated around him and to introduce me to them. I recognized a couple names from stories he'd told me about his best friends at school, and I smiled at them and thought about what I was like when I was their age. undoubtedly I had sat on a similar bus on my way to a similar day out and someone's parent or neighbor had met me and what had they thought? It's hard to have a concept of yourself at that age

so it was just a guess but I think I had been the opposite of shy I'd been a bit loud The opposite of shy. I'd been a bit loud and very friendly. I think I must have talked non-stop. I looked at the kids around me, thinking that there were all different kinds of kids in the rows of seats, and that they'd all have a journey ahead of them, till they felt completely like themselves. The bus bumped along the roads as we made our way out of town and toward our destination. It was a pumpkin patch, but also a cider mill with acres of apple groves all around it.

And as an autumn enthusiast, I had already been twice this year. I'd stopped by once to fill the back of my car with pumpkins and gourds, and another time had come just for some cider and a bag of apples. The dirt road was rutted, and the bus slowed down as we bounced in the seats. I spotted a rafter of turkeys waddling into the woods. My nephew had to push himself up a little bit to spy them through the window. And then we spent a few minutes seeing who could make the best gobble-gobble sound. When the bus finally pulled into the orchard's parking lot, we were all more than ready to start our pumpkin adventures.

The teacher stood at the front of the bus to give us a few reminders. And I remembered so vividly the feeling of having to wait as a child, of trying to listen but being so close to an exciting moment that it felt nearly impossible. My nephew kicked his feet and twisted in his seat to look this way and that. I and the other grown-ups did our best to soak up the information, nodding at the teacher to show him that we had heard. And finally, with a good-natured laugh, he told us to have fun, and we all jumped to our feet and scuttled off the bus. It was a cool, crisp, cloudy day. Now and then the sun would peek through far off in the distance,

and a thicket of trees on the horizon would glow with golden light. The leaves were turning now, not every tree but lots of them, and the air itself smelled of hay and spice. ice. The kids were split up into groups, and I steered ours over to a field with rows and rows of pumpkins. They ran through the rows, giddily stopping here and there to pat the rounded cords and feel their prickly stems. We investigated all the different shapes and sizes. There were some small very round pumpkins

that I knew from experience were the best for making pies and tall ones with straight stems that made good jack-o'-lanterns with lots of surface space for carving out a face. Most were orange, but some were white, and others were green. They even had some of my favorite, which looked like fairy tale pumpkins.

They were squat and flattish on top. They had smooth, shiny skin and curly stems. My nephew squatted down next to one, and his eyes went wide as he reached out to touch it. Just like in Cinderella, he said. And we talked about the pumpkin bouncing down the country road, transforming into a carriage. Most of the other little ones in our group had picked out pie pumpkins, as they were perfectly sized for their little arms, and they'd been encouraged to only select a pumpkin they could carry. But I could tell right away that this one would be coming home with us

one way or another. Can I get the Cinderella pumpkin? my nephew asked me, hopeful and excited. Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, I whispered to him from a few inches away, and pretended to tap my magic wand against my hand to get the sparkles flowing. We found a little cart in the next row over, and together we hoisted the pumpkin into it. The kids in our group saw us

and soon we had all the pumpkins in the cart and a bunch of little hands pulling it through the field we all waddled back toward his teacher who was standing by a long picnic table at the entrance to the orch of stickers, and we stuck them on so we didn't get our pumpkins mixed up. By now, we had worked up an appetite, and we could smell cinnamon and sugar donuts and were thirsty for cider.

So we stepped into the shop and looked around. Real apple cider made from just picked apples is a very special thing. If you've only ever had it from a jug in a grocery store, that might have traveled days to get to you. You don't know how it can quench your thirst and fill you up with energy. It is sweet and tart and rich,

and I liked mine very cold. On a counter in the back, they had laid out for us cups full of cold cider and plates stacked with donuts. I helped my young charges to each get a cup and a plate and stuffed a handful of napkins

into my pocket as I took my own. We stepped back out into the cool air and found a place at a table to eat and drink and look out at the apple trees. I knew we'd have a lot of sticky fingers and tired campers in a bit but I hoped we'd made a few memories that would last

sweet dreams