Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Rain on the Lake (Encore)

Episode Date: March 26, 2026

Originally aired March 24, 2025 (Season 15, Episode 24) Our story tonight is called Rain on the Lake, and it’s a story about a sudden arrival of drops and dark clouds on a spring afternoon. It’s also about a brooch in a jewelry box, the smell of rain mixing with lake water, mist and lamps lit in the darkness, memories of rainbows and rowboats, and taking rest as showers move across the horizon. Subscribe to our Premium channel. The first month is on us. 💙 Get better sleep with Cured Nutrition’s Sleep Bundle. It’s already 10% off, and you can stack an additional 20% off at checkout. Plus, all orders over $100 ship free. Visit ⁠https://www.curednutrition.com/NOTHINGMUCH⁠ and use code SWEETDREAMS at checkout to save. Fatty15 is on a mission to optimize your C15 levels to support your long-term health and wellness - especially as you age. You can get an additional 15% off your 90-day subscription Starter Kit by going to ⁠https://fatty15.com/NOTHINGMUCH and using code NOTHINGMUCH at checkout. Pre-Order Links for Kathryn's New Book ⁠⁠Here⁠⁠! ⁠⁠⁠⁠NMH Merch, Autographed Books and More!⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Listen to our daytime show ⁠⁠⁠⁠Stories from the Village of Nothing Much⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠Sit Meditation with Kathryn⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠Pay it forward subscription⁠⁠⁠⁠  Follow us on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠ Visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠Nothing Much Happens⁠⁠⁠⁠ for more Village fun! Stop by the Inn with this Playlist! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Get more, nothing much happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories, and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love. Subscribe now. If you're looking for an audio drama that's funny, thoughtful, and a little bit weird in the best way, let me tell you about Midnight Burger. It's a show about a time-traveling dimension-spanning diner that appears somewhere new in the cosmos every day. When Gloria takes a waitressing job at a diner outside Phoenix, she has no idea she just joined the staff of Midnight Burger,

a place that serves coffee, conversation, and the occasional existential reckoning. Along the way you'll meet a galactic drifter, a rogue theoretical physicist, a sentient old-timey radio, and a guy named Casper. No one knows who built the diner or how it works, but when it shows up, there's always someone nearby who really needs a cup of coffee.

If you love The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Dr. Who, The Good Place, or everything everywhere all at once, this show will be right up your alley. Midnight Burger has been called a must-listen indie podcast by The Guardian and has over 8 million downloads. It was nominated for a 2024 Ambie Award, and season four is happy. right now. Listen wherever you get your podcasts or head to we open at 6.com. You already know how much good sleep matters because when you sleep well, everything feels a little easier, your mood, your focus, even how your body feels the next day. And when you don't, it can feel like you're dragging that tiredness with you everywhere. That's why I want to tell you about the sleep bundle from cured nutrition,

which I've been using as part of my own wind-down routine, and which I gifted to another friend today. What I appreciate about it is that it's designed to help your body ease into rest, rather than knocking you out or leaving you groggy the next morning. The sleep bundle combines two formulas that work together to support deeper, more restorative sleep. It includes their Zen capsules, which are made with calming botanicals like Valerian root, chamomile, aschaganda, and magnesium, along with broad-spectrum CBD to help quiet the mind and relax the body.

The bundle also includes their CBN night caps or night oil, which support deeper sleep quality through the night. I take them about an hour before bed. Usually, while I'm dimming the lights, getting into my reading, I like that they work with my natural sleep rhythms. I wake up feeling rested, not foggy, and that makes a big. difference. Right now, the sleep bundle is already 10% off and you can take an additional 20% off at checkout with my code Sweet Dreams. The discount stack. Plus all orders over $100 automatically qualify for free shipping, including the sleep bundle. Visit curednutrition.com slash nothing much and use my code Sweet Dreams at checkout for the extra savings.

that's C-U-R-E-D-Nutrition.com slash nothing much. Coupon code, sweet dreams. Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolai. I write and read all the stories you hear,

on nothing much happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past. It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location. And since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different.

but the stories are always soothing and family-friendly, and our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams. I have a story to tell you. It is a soft place to rest your mind. And just by listening, you'll condition a reliable response in your nervous system to fall asleep and return to sleep easily. This is a form of brain training. So be patient if you are new to this.

I'll read the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake again later in the night, think back through any part of the story you can remember, or just push play again. Our story tonight is called rain on the lake. And it's a story about a sudden arrival of drops and dark clouds on a spring afternoon. It's also about a brooch and a jewelry box,

the smell of rain mixing with lake water, mist, and lamps lit in the darkness, memories of rainbows and rowboats and taking rest as showers move across the horizon. I've been thinking a lot about aging lately, and not in a fearful way. I believe aging is a privilege. I just want to be practical about it, about how I want to feel steady and capable as the years go on, how I want to sleep well, move easily, and support my health from the inside out, not just chase the appearance of being younger. That's why I was genuinely interested when I learned about fatty 15. Fatty 15 is built around C-15, the first emerging essential fatty acid,

discovered in more than 90 years. Research shows C-15 helps keep ourselves strong and resilient, which is foundational for healthy aging. What surprised me is that this discovery came from work with the U.S. Navy, studying the health of aging dolphins. That research revealed that when we don't have enough C-15, our cells become more fragile and they age faster, and that affects how our whole bodies age.

There's even a newly identified nutritional deficiency tied to low C-15 levels called cellular fragility syndrome, and studies suggest as many as one in three people may be affected. Faddy 15 was developed over more than a decade by doctors working with the Navy to create a pure, optimized, bioavailable form of C-15. It's been shown to support sleep, cognitive health, joint comfort, and the body's natural repair systems. For me, Fadi 15 feels like a long-term supportive choice,

something I'm taking for my future health. Not a quick fix, but a steady investment. It's science-backed, vegan-friendly, free of allergens and preservatives, and comes in a beautiful, reusable glass jar with refills shipped to your door. Faddy15 is on a mission to optimize your C-15 levels to help support your long-term health and wellness, especially as you age. You can get 15% off their 90-day starter kit by going to 5%. fatty15.com slash nothing much and using code nothing much at checkout. Now, lights out campers.

It's time. Snuggle down and get as comfortable as you can. Tuck yourself in with care. You as much as any other soul in the universe deserve rest and relaxation. to feel safe and cared for. So let my voice be a sort of guardian. My stories will watch over you as you sleep. Take a slow breath, in through your nose, and let it out. Do one more, breathe in, and release it on the lake.

I thought all I wanted was sunshine. after a long monochrome winter, the ice and snow and sky all mirroring each other. I thought I only wanted to see bright golden sunbeams and velvety green yards and bluebirds. But when I heard the rain falling on the roof this afternoon and felt the clouds closing in. I softened, relaxing in a way I hadn't lately.

I'd been pottering around the house, following one small chore to another. A sweater laid over the back of a dining room chair led me up to the closet, or I'd started to sort through a jewelry box. I'd found a burrub. broken brooch, and a watch in need of a new battery. They'd led me back downstairs to stash them in my purse, and the hopes I'd remember to take them to the repair shop on my next trip into town. In the

kitchen, I tipped the dregs of the last pot of coffee down the drain, and rinsed the rinked the graph, then wandered into the living room with a dust cloth to wipe down the bookshelf and framed photos on the mantle. That's when the light began to change, and the rain sounded on the roof. I walked over to the window with a frame and a cloth still in hand and looked down toward the lake. The bright colors of spring were shaded over. over by thick clouds. But rather than dimming my mood, it felt like a relief, like a cool cloth over tired eyes.

More than a sprinkle, not quite a storm. A solid shower was spreading over the lake. And I became mesmerized. watching the surface of the water ripple and shimmer as it came down. I remember it swimming in the rain as a kid. On days that had started out as hot and sunny, when a sudden shift of clouds would block out the bright day when raindrops fell all around me.

One summer, we'd had a little, inflatable boat, just big enough for me and my friend from down the street to fit into. We'd paddle around in the shallow water, pretending to be explorers, adventurers, discovering unknown species of fish and fowl. On days that the rain came, we'd bail out of the boat and flip it over. we'd swim under it, our heads poking up into the bubble of air, trapped beneath the inverted seats. Our voices echoed funnily in the small space. And we'd been full of jokes that only made sense to us. The sound of the rain on the keel made me feel cozy and safe, even while we stood.

chest deep in water. At some point a parent would begin beckoning us out of the lake, telling us to come wrap up in a towel and wait for the rain to pass over. But by then, the water felt warmer than the air, and we'd stall and weasel a few more minutes into the deal. If the weather changed quickly, a rainbow might spread across the sky, something that seemed so much like magic. I'd stare at it with a bit of skepticism, as if it were a joke that would be revealed as such at some point. All of these thoughts,

I'd passed through my head and a few seconds, watching the rainfall on the lake. I found I wanted to get closer, to feel the air, to smell the lake as the drops came down. And I stepped out onto the back porch in my slippers. It was screened in and had just recently had its spring close. The wicker chairs and tables were wiped down, and the cushions laundered and plumped. I realized I still held the photo and cloth from my dusting and set them on a table, and went close to the screens, a fine mist of water, landed on my glasses and cheeks when I laughed. I pulled my glasses from my face and wiped the lenses on my shirt, but stayed close to the screens,

liking the cool touch of the rain and the scent of the lake. I could smell moss and water-logged tree trunks, in the distance the sky was even darker. And I thought this shower might actually be. become a storm, that lightning and thunder might literally be on the horizon. I wasn't cold, not yet at least. And I walked along the length of the porch, peering closely at the flower beds, drinking up all this good water, then into the reedy line at the edge of the lake. where I spotted a long-legged egret, bright white, against the green and gray of the water. What was the experience of a bird or a fish on a day like today? If you have ever seen a horse running unrestrained on a beach,

then you know the joy that animals can take in movement. And I wondered what it might be like to soar near a rainbow or to swim just below the surface. As gentle rain fell, the sound of the rain rushing down, suddenly doubled, and a gust of cooler wind raced through the screens. All right then, I thought. enough I'll go back in. I picked up the frame and my desk cloth

and stepped back into the house, pulling the door to the porch tightly behind me. I remembered a window, open in a room on the second floor, rushed up the stairs to nudge it closed. Small puddles lay on the sill, and I used my cloth to mop them up. On the way back down, I switched on a few lamps. I liked the gloom that the storm had brought,

but I also liked a bit of glow here and there. I think I was revisiting that feeling of being under the boat and the rain, a little pocket of a different kind of feeling. in a sea of something bigger. I dropped my now-damp dustcloth down the laundry chute and set the photo on the mantle. If I tried, I knew I could come up with more tasks to attend to. But just now, the sound of the rain,

the blotted out sun, the flash of lightning on the far edge of the lane, on the far edge of the lake. They all seemed to beckon me to my favorite spot on the sofa. I tossed a long blanket over me as I stretched out, turning on to one side, pulling a throw pillow under my head.

I'd wondered about the joy of animals and movement, and now I thought of them at rest, a scurry of squirrel, girls, cuddled together in the knot of a tree, otter clubs, napping on the bellies of their parents. All of us letting the rain fall around us as we slept. Rain on the lake. I thought all I wanted was sunshine. after a long monochrome winter, the ice and snow and sky, all mirroring each other.

I thought I only wanted to see bright golden sunbeams and velvety green lawns and bluebirds. But when I heard the rain falling on the roof this afternoon and felt the clouds closing in, I softened, relaxing in a way. I hadn't lately. I'd been pottering around the house, following one small chore to another. A sweater laid over the back,

of a dining-room chair, led me up into the closet, where I'd started to sort through a jewelry box. I'd found a broken brooch and a watch in need of a new battery. They'd led me back downstairs to stash them in my purse. And the hopes I'd remembered to take them to the repair shop on my next. strip into town. In the kitchen, I'd tipped the dregs of the last pot of coffee down the drain and rinsed the carafe, then wandered into the living room with a dustcloth to wipe down the bookshelf and framed photos on the mantle. That's when the light began to change and the rain sounded on the roof. I walked over to the window with a frame and the cloth still in hand and looked down

toward the lake. The bright colors of spring were shaded over by thick clouds, but rather than dimming my mood, it felt like a relief, like a cool cloth over tired eyes, more than a sprinkle, not quite a storm. A solid shower was spreading over the lake, and I became mesmerized, watching the surface of the water ripple and shimmer as it came down. I remembered swimming in the rain as a kid on days that had started out as hot and sunny when a sudden shift of clouds would block out the bright day and raindrops fell all around me. On summer we'd had

a little inflatable boat just big enough for me and my friend from down the street to fit into. We'd paddle around in the shallow water pretending to be explorers. adventurers discovering unknown species of fish and fowl on days that the rain came we'd bale out of the boat and flip it over and swim under it our heads poking up into the bubble of air trapped beneath the inverted seats our voices echoed funnily

in the small space, and we'd been full of jokes that only made sense to us. The sound of rain on the keel made me feel cozy and safe, even while we stood chest deep in the water. At some point a parent would begin beckoning us out of the lake, telling us to come, wrap up in a towel, wait for the rain to pass over. But by then, the water felt warmer than the air, and we'd stall and weasel a few more minutes into the deal. If the weather changed quickly, a rainbow might spread across the sky, something that had seemed so much like magic. I'd stare at it with a bit of skepticism, as if it were a joke that would be revealed as such at some point.

All of these thoughts had passed through my head in just a few seconds as I watched the rain fall on the lake. I found I wanted to get closer, to feel the air, to smell the lake as the drops came down, and I stepped out onto the back porch in my slippers. It was screened in and had just recently had its spring cleaning. The wicker chairs and tables were wiped down, and the cushions laundered and plumped. I realized I still held the photo on cloth from my dusting and set them on a table and went close to the screens. A fine mist of water landed on my glasses and cheeks. And I laughed.

I pulled my glasses from my face and wiped the lenses on my shirt. but stayed close to the screens, liking the cool touch of the rain. In the scent of the lake, I could smell moss and water-logged tree trunks, and the distance the sky was even darker, and I thought this shower might actually become a storm, that lightning and thunder, might literally be on the horizon. I wasn't cold, not yet at least, and I walked along the length of the porch,

peering closely at the flower beds, drinking up all this good water, then into the reedy line at the edge of the lake, where I spotted a long-legged eagret, bright white against the green and gray of the water. What was the experience of a bird or a fish on a day like today? If you have ever seen a horse running unrestrained on a beach, then you know the joy that animals can take in movement.

And I wondered what it might be like to soar near a rainbow or swim just below the surface. As gentle rain fell, the sound of the rain, rushing down, suddenly doubled, and a gust of cooler wind raced through the screens. All right then, I thought. Enough, I'll go back in. I picked up the frame and the dustcloth

and stepped back into the house. pulling the door to the porch tightly behind me. I remembered a window open on the second floor and rushed up the stairs to nudge it closed. Small puddles lay on the sill. And I used my cloth to mop them up. On the way back down, I switched on a few lamps. I liked the gloom that the storm had brought,

but I also liked a bit of glow here and there. I think I was revisiting that feeling of being under the boat, in the rain, a little pocket of a different kind of feeling in a sea of something bigger. I dropped my now damp dustcloth down the laundry chute and set the photo on the mantle.

If I tried, I knew I could come up with more tasks to attend to. But just now, the sound of the rain, the blotted out sun, the flash of lightning on the far edge of the lake. They all seemed to beckon me to my favorite spot on the sofa. I tossed a long blanket over me as I stretched out, turning onto one side and pulling a throw pillow under my head. I'd wondered about the joy of animals in movement, and now I thought of them at rest, a scurry of squirrels, cuddled together in the knot of a tree. Otter cubs napping on the bellies of their parents.

All of us, letting the rain fall around us as we slept. Sweet dreams.