Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Spring Cleanup

Episode Date: April 4, 2022

Our story tonight is called Spring Cleanup and it’s a story about one of the first warm sunny days of the year. It’s also about bird feeders full of seed hanging in the branches, a vintage Tupperware box full of treats, and the simple idea that many hands make light work.So get cozy and ready to sleep. Order the book now! https://www.nothingmuchhappens.com/book-store Get our ad-free and bonus episodes here: https://www.nothingmuchhappens.com/premium-subscriptionPurchase 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. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Now is a particularly good time to follow us on Instagram and Facebook and Twitter. We're about to celebrate four years of bedtime stories. Nearly 140 stories just here on the podcast. Of course, there are more in my book.

And speaking of, I'll be giving away a few signed copies and maybe having some other sleepy fun over on our socials. So follow us there and stay tuned to learn more. Thank you for listening. Whether tonight is your first story, or you've been here for a while, I'm glad you're here. Great ways to make sure Bob and I can keep these stories coming

are to just tell the sleepless folks in your life about us, to subscribe to our premium or premium plus feeds, to buy the book, or ask your library to add it to their collection. Now, let me say something about how this podcast works. Busy minds need a place to rest. And if they don't get one, they can run wild and race all night. The story I'm about to tell you is that resting spot. As you listen, use the sound of my voice and the details of the story to build up a world you can step into whenever you need relaxation and rest. And if you find yourself awake again later in the night, you can listen again,

or just think back through any bits of the story that you can remember. This interrupts your mind's tendency to turn back on and will allow you to go right back to sleep. Over time this response will become more automatic. You will fall asleep faster and stay asleep longer than ever before. Now, it's time to turn off the light and put away anything you've been playing with or looking at. Slide down into your sheets and get as comfortable as you can. You are safe.

You have done enough for the day. And now it is time to rest. Let's take a deep breath in through the nose and then a soft sigh out of the mouth. Nice. Do that one more time. Breathe in. Let it out.

Good. Our story tonight is called Spring Cleanup. And it's a story about one of the first warm, sunny days of the year. It's also about bird feeders full of seed hanging in the branches, a vintage Tupperware box full of treats, and the simple idea that many hands make light work. Spring Cleanup I'd first heard about it when I noticed a flyer tacked up on a telephone pole on the corner. A simple

invitation to all neighbors on the block to join in on a day-long cleanup effort. We were asked to bring a stack of lawn bags, some good, strong shears or snippers, and a pair of gloves. We'd meet on Saturday morning by the triangle, which is just a bare green space at a fork in the road, and decide where to start. Well, once word got around, things started to get a bit more elaborate.

If we were going to clean up, gather litter and rake old leaves, wouldn't it be nice to also plant a few flowers? The triangle, for example. What if somebody brought over a rototiller and turned some of that blank green space into a flower bed? And there were a few homes on our block where folks needed help cleaning off front porches, hanging out the bird feeders, and taking down storm windows.

They were small chores that could be done in a jiffy if there were a few extra hands to share the work, but might just not get done at all without it. Could we organize some teams for that? And now that it looked like we'd have a full day of work, we'd need some food, snacks through the day and maybe a potluck supper or a pizza party at the end of it that we could all share. Phone calls were made, meetings held over fences, and then a full plan laid out in new flyers,

again tacked onto telephone poles and tucked through letterboxes. There were categories of needs, such as flats of flowers, spare tools and snacks and drinks. There was a way to signal if you needed help with something around the house, and a place to indicate if you could offer some of that assistance. You could sign up for various locations and times, and I was glad that all I had to do was tick a few boxes and let those with a passion for organizing do the rest. The day of the cleanup dawned bright and warm. We'd pushed the whole thing back a time or two, waiting for a full week of temps in the fifties or higher so that we could give pollinators

time to move out of their winter digs and stems and leaf piles. Now we'd had a week of sunny, warm days. Today would be a bit over 60, with no rain in the forecast. I was up early. It's strange what you get excited about as you get older. I couldn't wait to get out there, to start pulling weeds and gathering rubbish,

and meet more of my neighbors. I'd made a couple dozen brownies the night before as one of the tasks I'd signed up for was snack table. I'd made some with walnuts, some without, and they were cut into little three-bite squares,

and in a big, old-fashioned Tupperware I'd gotten handed down from my mother. Do you remember the old Tupperware containers? I had the big rectangular box, which, in my memory, had been red. But when I'd gotten it from the back of the cupboard, I realized was actually a classic 70s burnt orange.

I'm pretty sure I'd taken a few years' worth of birthday cupcakes to school in this solid piece of Americana. Now it held enough brownies to keep the whole block supplied. I'd also gotten a mustard yellow iced tea pitcher, the one with the lid that had the button on top to suction it into place. It had certainly held plenty of Kool-Aid in its years, but I figured I'd go with something a little more grown-up and made a water infused with strawberries, basil, and lemon. When I heard front doors and front gates opening and swinging shut up and down the street,

I gathered my goodies and tools and set them gently in my red flyer wagon and pulled it down the driveway and toward the triangle. We were still meeting there, where we would set up the snacks and break into groups. As I got closer, I saw that we had an excellent turnout. It looked like nearly the whole neighborhood was there. And I got to chit-chat with a few people I knew by sight to learn their names and hand out a few sneaky brownies while we waited to be told where to begin.

Finally, we heard a voice calling for quiet, and we hushed up and listened to one of our organizers. She called out various groups and pointed where to head, and off we went. I left my Tupperware on a long folding table under a canvas canopy and pulled my wagon to where I'd be working. I'd volunteered to rake and clean out an empty lot at the end of the street and had brought a long rake, a hand trowel, and plenty of yard bags. The birds were singing above us as we shook out the bags and got to work.

The smell of spring is already so energizing. But when you start to work in the dirt, it gets even better. There was that fresh scent of rain-soaked soil that rose up as we raked through the grass and leaves. We found a few soda cans and paper scraps and other sundry bits of refuse, which I offered to take back to my place to recycle.

I was glad I'd brought my wagon. Soon, the lot looked much less abandoned, much more friendly and clean, and one of our neighbors walked by with a few full bird feeders hanging from his fingers. He'd made them over the winter in his workshop.

And since no one was using this lot for the moment, what did we think about hanging them in the trees? We thought it was a great idea. And we hung them on long wires and made a plan to fill them through the summer. Across the street, the storm windows were coming down off a beautiful old farmhouse. I knew the man who lived there. He was older and had some trouble getting out. I sometimes brought him groceries when he'd let me know what he needed,

and I realized the windows hadn't come down in a few years. If we hadn't asked to help today, they certainly would have stayed put another year. I watched my neighbors carefully sliding the glass panels off their hooks and carrying them around to store in the garage. someone was sweeping his broad front porch and checking that the chains holding his swing were sturdily attached. At noon, someone rang a bell from the triangle,

and we all took a break, washing our hands at a spigot in someone's yard and eating sandwiches from paper plates. The air was warm and smelled fresh with all the dirt we'd turned over. The sun was shining down on us when we had the rest of the afternoon to take care of each other and the space we shared.

Spring was here. Spring clean-up. was here. Spring cleanup. I'd first heard about it when I noticed a flyer tacked up on a telephone pole on the corner. A simple invitation to all neighbors on the block to join in on a we were asked to bring a stack of lawn bags, some good strong shears or snippers, and a pair of gloves.

We'd meet on Saturday morning by the Triangle, which is just a bare green space at a fork in the road, and decide where to start. Well, once word got around, things started to get a bit more elaborate. If we were going to clean up, gather litter, and rake old leaves. Wouldn't it be nice to also plant a few flowers? The triangle, for example. What if somebody brought over a rototiller and turned some of that blank green space into a flower bed. And there were a few homes on our block

where folks needed help cleaning off front porches, hanging out the bird feeders, and taking down storm windows. They were small chores that could be done in a jiffy if there were a few extra hands to share the work, but might just not get done at all without it. Could we organize some teams for that?

And now that it looked like we'd have a full day of work, we'd need some food, snacks through the day, and maybe a potluck supper or pizza party at the end of it that we could all share. Phone calls were made, meetings held over fences, and then a full plan laid out in new flyers, again tacked onto telephone poles and tucked through letterboxes. There were categories of needs, such as flats of flowers, spare tools and snacks and drinks. There was a way to signal if you needed help with something around the house, and a place to indicate if you could offer some assistance.

You could sign up for various locations and times. And I was glad that all I had to do was tick a few boxes and let those with a passion for organizing do the rest. The day of the cleanup dawned bright and warm. We'd pushed the whole thing back a time or two, waiting for a full week of temps in the 50s or higher, so that we would give pollinators time to move out of their winter digs and stems and leaf piles.

Now, we'd had a week of sunny, warm days. Today would be a bit over 60, with no rain in the forecast. I was up early. It's strange what you get excited about as you get older. I couldn't wait to get out there, to start pulling weeds and gathering rubbish, and to meet more of my neighbors. I'd made a couple dozen brownies the night before, as one of the tasks I'd signed up for was snack table. I'd made some with walnuts, some without, and they were cut into little three-byte squares, and in a big, old-fashioned Tupperware

I'd gotten handed down from my mother. Do you remember those old Tupperware containers? I had the big rectangular box, which, in my memory, had been red. But when I'd gotten it down from the back of the cupboard, I realized was actually a classic 70s burnt orange. I'm pretty sure I'd taken a few years' worth of birthday cupcakes to school and this solid piece of Americana. But now, it held enough brownies

to keep the whole block supplied I'd also gotten a mustard yellow iced tea pitcher the one with the lid that had the button on top to suction it into place. It had certainly held plenty of Kool-Aid in its years,

but I figured I'd go with something a little more grown-up and made a water infused with strawberries, basil, and lemon. When I heard the front doors and front gates opening and swinging shut up and down the street,

I gathered my goodies and tools and set them gently in my red flyer wagon and pulled it down the driveway and toward the triangle. We were still meeting there where we would set up the snacks and break into groups. As I got closer,

I saw that we had an excellent turnout. It looked like nearly the whole neighborhood was there. And I got to chit-chat with a few people I knew by sight, learn their names, and hand out a few sneaky brownies while we waited to be told how to begin. Finally, we heard a voice calling for quiet, and we hushed up and listened to one of our organizers.

She called out various groups and pointed where to head, and off we went. I left my Tupperwares on the long folding table under a canvas canopy and pulled my wagon to where I'd be working. I'd volunteered to rake and clean out an empty lot at the end of the street, and had brought a long rake, a hand trowel, and plenty of yard bags. The birds were singing above us as we shook out the bags and got to work. The smell of spring is already so energizing. But when you start to work in the dirt, it gets even better. There was that fresh scent

of rain-soaked soil that rose up as we raked through the grass and leaves. We found a few soda cans and paper scraps and other sundry bits of refuse, which I offered to take back to my place to recycle. I was glad I'd brought my wagon. Soon, the lot looked much less abandoned,

much more friendly and clean. And one of our neighbors walked by with a few full bird feeders hanging from his fingers. He'd made them over the winter in his workshop. And since no one was using this lot for the moment, what did we think about hanging them in the trees? We thought it was a great idea,

and we hung them on long wires and made a plan to fill them through the summer. Across the street, the storm windows were coming down off a beautiful old farmhouse. I knew the man who lived there. He was older and had trouble getting out.

I sometimes brought him a few groceries when he let me know what he needed. And I realized the windows hadn't come down in a few years. If we hadn't asked to help today, they certainly would have stayed put another year. I watched my neighbors carefully sliding the glass panels off their hooks and carrying them around to store in the garage. Someone was sweeping his broad front porch and checking that the chains holding his swing

were sturdily attached. At noon, someone rang a bell from the triangle, and we all took a break, washing our hands at a spigot in someone's yard and eating sandwiches from paper plates. The air was warm and smelled fresh, with all the dirt we'd turned over. The sun was shining down on us. And we had the rest of the afternoon

to take care of each other and the space we shared. Spring was here. Sweet dreams.