Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Summer at the Library, Part 1

Episode Date: June 10, 2024

Our story tonight is called Summer at the Library. It’s about special programming for some of the younger and four-legged residents of the Village. It’s also about the view from the circulation desk, water bowls set out on the shady patio, study rooms, walking trails, and learning to feel happiness from moment to moment. We give to a different charity each week, and this week, we are giving to Reach Out and Read; they believe all families should have the tools and information they need to make reading aloud a daily routine.  Save over $100 on Kathryn’s hand-selected wind-down favorites with the Nothing Much Happens Wind-Down Box. A collection of products from our amazing partners: Eversio Wellness: Chill Now Vellabox: Lavender Silk Candle Alice Mushrooms: Nightcap NutraChamps: Tart Cherry Gummies A Brighter Year: Mini Coloring Book NuStrips: Sleep Strips Woolzies: Lavender Roll-On. 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 belownothingmuchhappens.com/premium-subscription  Listen to our new show, Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, on your favoritepodcast app. 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 Catherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you 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 Reach Out and Read, who believe all families should have the tools and information they need

to make reading aloud a daily routine. You can learn more about them in our show notes. Thank you for trusting me to tuck you in at night. Our mission is to give you a safe place to land after whatever kind of day you've had. Our stories are family-friendly and conflict-free. And if you'd like to hear more, we have over 35 bonus episodes, as well as extra long episodes on our Premium Plus feed. Subscribing gives you ad-free episodes and really supports us. You can find a link to subscribe in our show notes, as well as our other shows, First This, and Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, and our sleep subscription box, which is chock full of full-sized products hand-picked by me to help you relax and sleep.

Now, let's start to walk that path to deep rest. Just by listening to the story, you'll occupy your mind just enough to keep it from wandering. And that is when sleep becomes natural and easy. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you awake again in the night, think through any part of the story that you can remember, or just turn an episode right back on. And if you're new to this, have some patience.

This is brain training, and it takes some time. Our story tonight is called Summer at the Library, and it's a story about some special programming for some of the younger and four-legged residents of the village. It's also about the view from the circulation desk, water bowls set out on the shady patio, study rooms and walking trails, and learning to feel happiness moment to moment. now lights out it's time set aside anything you've been looking at or working on snuggle down into your sheets and get the right pillow in the right spot. Whatever you got done today, it was enough.

And there's nothing to keep track of. You can let go. Draw a deep breath in through your nose. And sigh from your mouth. Nice. One more. In and out.

Good. Summer at the library. The library opened at 9 a.m., but by quarter to eight, there was already a good-sized crowd outside. From inside at the circulation desk, as I scanned books and organized the flyers and bookmarks lining the top,

I could see groups of parents and kids, folks with their books and computer bags, ready to study or get back to work on their novels, and others who were eager for their next great read. The library had just gone through a renovation. We were housed in an old brick building on the edge of the park, a few blocks from the center of downtown. And though we'd always done our best

to serve as many people as we could, we'd been limited. Our one meeting room was small. Our stacks were crowded, and we'd often had to turn down speakers and events for lack of accommodation. When the land beside and behind our building had been donated to us,

we leapt at the opportunity to expand. We added a new wing, full of open space and large windows. We had meeting rooms, plural now, some small for study groups and two larger ones for lectures and community meetings. There were gardens and a small patio where patrons could sit outside in nice weather. Even walking paths in the acres behind the building. And since then, we'd become a favorite location for school trips. If it sounds like I'm bragging, it's because I am. Nothing makes a librarian happier than seeing young faces discovering the joys of the library.

Our collection had grown along with the space. We had new cabinets for history exhibits we'd just taken down a collection of gowns and shoes fancy hats and brooches from the Gilded Age and we were currently installing a collection of fossils found on a farm out beyond the apple orchards. We had expanded collections of fiction and memoirs, children's books and media. We lent out appliances and musical instruments, garden tools, and today

we were lending something even more special. We'd partnered up with a pet rescue, and those eager kids and parents outside the front door were coming to check out dogs for a walk and some story time. As the clock ticked over to 9 a.m., one of the other librarians walked past me with a broad smile on his face. We chuckled together. We were all looking forward to today. He went to the door, and as he unlocked it, and stood back to let our patrons in. I saw a van with a happy logo across its panels of a wagging tail pull into the parking lot. Across the hood, in big letters, it said, Vanimals, bringing your next furry friend to you. I chuckled to myself as I stepped out from behind the desk and made my way through our patrons and out to the lot.

Before I even got close, I could hear the excited barking and see a few pairs of eyes peeking through the windows. The van was a refitted short school bus, and when the door folded back and I was invited to climb aboard, I smiled at the rows of special seats and the pups buckled into their harnesses. There were about a dozen dogs, some bigger, a collie, a chocolate lab, a pity, and a very shaggy mix with gray and white spots. Then some middle-sized pooches, some kind of hound dog,

a dalmatian, a cocker spaniel, a couple that I couldn't describe other than they were very cute, and in the front row, the smallest dogs, small enough to share two to a seat, were two red-haired dachshunds, a Yorkie, and something that, as far as I could tell,

was an actual teddy bear pretending to be a dog. I was filled with a giddy joy as a dog lover and pet parent. I got to see my own kitty and dog every day, and I regularly admired the pups we saw on our walks. But it had been a long time since I had been so completely surrounded by canine excitement, and it felt like Christmas morning, like a ticker tape parade, like the first day of summer vacation. The dogs seemed to share that feeling.

Their tails thumped against their seats as they strained toward me. I'd done a short training with the shelter to be able to help today. And I remembered that I was supposed to be helping to get the pups off the bus, not just petting them while grinning like a goon. I shrugged an apology to the driver, and he assured me it happened a lot. Dogs make us present, he said. Sometimes we forget everything else. Boy, that was true. It was something my yoga teacher frequently said when we were stretching into downward-facing dog. She reminded us, dogs don't worry about how they look in a pose.

They don't get mad at puppies for being more flexible. They just stretch intuitively, and it feels good, and then they wag their way into the next good thing. Moment to moment. That was one of the things they taught us. I was assigned to getting the medium-sized dogs out of their seatbelts and hooked into their leashes, and they were such good pups for me. I gave each one a treat as I clipped them in, and then we made our way down the steps of the van and into the lot. Another volunteer met me there, and we each took two dogs and headed toward the garden and benches

beside the side doors of the library. We had water bowls set up there, and we let the pups sniff and take a potty break. I looked through the glass into the new wing and saw a row of kids with their hands and faces pressed against the windows,

all eager to check out a dog for a couple of hours. We would do some basic training, more for the kids than for the dogs. Then we'd take a walk and finish with some stories out here in the garden. There were also a couple of treats and surprises set up for the morning. And as I thought through our schedule,

I had a moment of realizing how happy I was, being so grateful that this was my job, and feeling that joy fizz through my body. If I had one, I'd have been wagging my tail. Summer at the library. The library opened at 9 a.m. But by quarter to eight, there was a good-sized crowd outside. From inside at the circulation desk, as I scanned books and organized the flyers and bookmarks lining the top.

I could see groups of parents and kids, folks with their books and computer bags, ready to study or get back to work on their novels, and others who were eager for their next great read. The library had just gone through a renovation. We were housed in an old brick building on the edge of the park, a few blocks from the center of downtown. And though we'd always done our best to serve as many people as we could, we'd been limited.

Our one meeting room was small. Our stacks were crowded, and we'd often had to turn down speakers and events for lack of accommodation. When the land beside and behind our building had been donated to us, we leapt at the opportunity to expand. We had meeting rooms, plural now, some small for study groups, and two larger events. There were gardens and a small patio where patrons could sit outside in nice weather. Even walking paths in the acres behind the building. And since the expansion, we'd become a favorite location for school trips. If it sounds like I'm bragging, it's because I am.

Nothing makes a librarian happier than seeing young faces discovering the joys of the library. Our collections had grown along with the space. We had new cabinets for history We'd just taken down a collection of gowns and fancy hats, shoes and brooches from the Gilded Age, and we were currently installing a collection of fossils found on a farm out beyond the apple orchards. We had expanded collections of fiction and memoirs, children's books and media.

We lent out appliances and musical instruments, garden tools, and today, we were lending something even more special. we partnered up with a pet rescue and those eager kids and parents outside the front door were coming to check out dogs for a walk through the trails and some story time.

As the clock ticked over to 9 a.m., one of the other librarians walked past me with a broad smile on his face. We chuckled together. We were all looking forward He went to the door, and as he unlocked it and stood back to let our patrons in, I saw a van with a happy logo across its panels of a wagging tail pull into the parking lot. Across the hood, in big letters, it said, Vanimals, bringing your next furry friend to you.

I chuckled to myself as I stepped out from behind the desk and made my way through our patrons and out to the lot. Before I even got close, I could hear the excited barking and see a few pairs of eyes peeking through the windows. The van was a refitted short school bus, and when the door folded back and I was invited to climb aboard, I smiled at the rows of special seats, and the pups buckled into their harnesses.

There were about a dozen dogs, some bigger. A collie, a chocolate lab, a pity, and dalmatian, a cocker spaniel. A couple that I couldn't describe other than very cute. And in the front row the smallest dogs small enough to share two to a seat or two red-haired dachshunds a Yorkie

and something that as far as I could tell, was an actual teddy bear pretending to be a dog. I was filled with giddy joy. As a dog lover and pet parent, I got to see my own kitty and dog every day, and I regularly admired the pups we saw on our walks. But it had been a long time since I had been so completely surrounded by canine excitement. And it felt like Christmas morning, like a ticker tape parade. Like the first day of summer vacation. The dogs seemed to share that feeling. Their tails thumped against the seats as they strained toward me. I'd done a short training with the shelter to be able to help today, and I remembered that I was supposed to be helping to get the pups off the bus,

not just petting them while grinning like a goon. I shrugged an apology to the driver, and he assured me it happened a lot. Dogs make us present, he said, and sometimes we forget everything else. Boy, that was true. It was something my yoga teacher frequently said when we were stretching into downward-facing dog. She reminded us, dogs don't worry about how they look in the pose. They don't get mad at puppies for being more flexible. They just stretch intuitively, and it feels good,

and then they wag their way into the next good thing. Moment to moment. That was one of the things they taught us. I was assigned to getting the medium-sized dogs out of their seatbelts and buckled into their leashes, and they were such good pups for me. I gave each one a treat as I clipped them in, and then we made our way down the steps of the van and into the lot. Another volunteer met me there, and we each took two dogs and headed toward the garden and benches beside the side doors of the library. We had water bowls set up there for the pups and let them sniff and take potty breaks. I looked through the glass

into the new wing and saw a row of kids with their hands and faces pressed against the windows. All eager to check out a dog for a couple of hours. We would do some basic training. More for the kids than for the dogs. Then we'd take a walk and finish with some stories out here in the garden. There were also a couple of treats

and surprises set up for the morning. And as I thought through our schedule, I had a moment of realizing how happy I was. Of being so grateful that this was my job and feeling that joy effervesce through my body. If I had one, I'd have been wagging my tail. Sweet dreams.