Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Sunny Skies (Encore)

Episode Date: January 29, 2026

Originally aired January 27, 2025, Season 15, Episode 8 Our story tonight is called Sunny Skies, and it’s a story about our little village of Nothing Much, stepping back into the light after a long winter storm. It’s also about small changes adding up over time, candle ice and frost flowers, letting the sun bathe your face after several gray days, and a small adventure to keep you going till Spring. 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 ⁠curednutrition.com/NOTHINGMUCH⁠ and use code SWEETDREAMS at checkout to save. Fatty15 is on a mission to optimize your C15 levels to help support your long-term health and wellness - especially as you age. You can get an additional 15% off their 90-day subscription Starter Kit by going to fatty15.com/NOTHINGMUCH and using code NOTHINGMUCH at checkout. ⁠⁠⁠⁠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 for a visit 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. 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.

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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 Nikola. 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 company, 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. A busy mind can keep you up, or make returning to sleep in the middle of the night really difficult. So let's try some positive

distraction therapy. I'll tell you a sweet, simple story. In fact, I'll tell it twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. Just follow along with the sound of my voice, and that will slow your busy brain, and sleep will come. Know that this is brain training. Regular use improves results. So have some patience if you are new here. Our story tonight is called sunny skies, and it's a story about our little village of nothing much, stepping back into the light after a long winter storm.

It's also about small changes adding up over time. candle ice, and frost flowers, letting the sun bathe your face after several gray days, and a small adventure to keep you going till spring. 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. Fatty 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, fatty 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. Fatty 15 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 fatty15.com slash nothing much and using code nothing much at checkout. Okay, lights out, friend. The day is done.

Whatever happened today is what happened today. And now it is time for sleep. Let everything relax, unlock your jaw. soften your shoulders and notice how good it feels to be safe in bed. Draw a slow, deep breath in and sigh it out. One more time, fill your lungs and empty. Good. Sunny skies.

After weeks of snow and ice, today dawned with a different feeling. I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning, and at night I still felt like it didn't add up to much. But I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. there was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon. It wasn't spring, I knew that, but it was a reminder that winter wasn't just one thing. It has shades. It is a spectrum of experiences.

I'd noticed it when I stepped outside. to get the newspaper. Something I've done lately in the gloom with my face wrapped up in a muffler, shuffling in my boots and reaching with damp mittens into the snowbank at the edge of the driveway. But today, the air felt different.

It was softer? The crisp edge of it had been smoothed into something that was easy to breathe and had a slight sweet scent like rain on pavement. The bracing cold was suddenly less bracing. Instead of rounding my shoulders and hunching over to keep any warmth in, I stood tall and lifted my face to the open sky. I let my scarf fall away from my neck and took slow, deep breaths. The sun made me blink when I had seen it last, which now felt like weeks ago.

It was a bright white, appearing rarely, and between snow showers. Now it had a rich, honey-yellow color, and it felt like pure energy pouring into my system. I closed my eyes and let it bathe my face. I'd forgotten how good this feels. I started down the porch steps and noticed the icicles.

dripping from the eaves. I realized, in fact, that there were lots of sounds to tune into this morning, squirrels and some of the heartier birds who stayed through the winter, moving along tree branches, where snow was quickly disappearing.

I heard dogs barking in the distance. Garage doors, going up, cars on the next straight over. Activity. It was inspiring. I loved this stretch of time when winter slowed us to a stop, when everything was paused, and I'd been able to retreat into my cozy house, stay in my favorite jammies all day, watch movies and make soup. But now it felt like a nice change of pace to do something else.

And the day seemed to be encouraging just that. At the bottom of the steps, I reached down for the newspaper, thankfully well-wrapped and protected from all this melting snow. I tucked it under one arm. and went farther down the drive to the sidewalk. Then followed that to the corner, a few houses down. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Just wanted to see more, I guess,

to see what we were all getting up to if others could feel the change that I could, across the street. I saw a man walking a dog. He waved at me, and even the dog seemed to be smiling. Yes, I think they could feel it too. I crossed the street and went another block over. It passed a frozen pond. One sunny morning hadn't done anything to its inches of frozen ice. And I stopped a moment to look at the way the light

caught the angles of its surface. It wasn't even and flat. The wind must have been blowing hard as the crystals came together. I'd seen pictures before of frozen waves on the Great Lakes. I'd heard of candlelight. that made a beautiful ringing sound

as millions of thin straws of frozen water bumped into each other. And once I'd held a frost flower in my hand, a kind of ice that came from a freezing fog. This was just a small pond with a slightly bumpy surface, but still, I felt like I'd stumbled upon something miraculous. I squatted down to look more closely

and noticed that in the bright sun, the snow and ice, sparkled like glitter with a rainbow of colors that I could only catch when the light hit just right. I stood up tall, tossing the dangling end of my scarf back over my shoulder. I remembered I had the newspaper under my arm,

and while I did have my boots and coat on, I was still dressed in my pajamas under it all, and maybe I should regroup before continuing any adventures. making my way back across the street and up the block to my house, I found myself taking one deep breath after another, drawing this new energy deep inside to fill my cup. At my house, I dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table. I would read it later.

and went to change into jeans and a sweater. I felt the urge to open a window, but I knew I was getting well ahead of myself. I remembered an early spring day, years before, when I had my first apartment, and how desperate I had been to let warm air in on a sunny day. I'd opened all the windows and gone out with friends for lunch.

Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned, and by the time I'd made it back home, my little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me, and after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on to sleep in, older and wiser. I opened the curtains rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.

I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater. and just regular socks, rather than the double thick ones, which barely squeezed into my shoes. Back downstairs, I donned my coat and boots and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car,

car warmed up around me. I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect. I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up. Reaching into my bag, I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while, and I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sunny skies. after weeks of snow and ice.

Today dawned with a different feeling. I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning. And at night, it still felt like it didn't add up to much. I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. there was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon. It wasn't spring, I knew that.

But it was a reminder that winter wasn't just one thing. It has shades. It is a spectrum of experiences. I'd noticed when I stepped outside to get the newspaper, something I've done lately in the gloom, with my face wrapped up in a muffler, shuffling in my boots, and reaching with damp mittens into the snowbank at the edge of the driveway.

But today, the air felt different. It was softer. The crisp edge of it had been smoothed into something that was easy to breathe. and had a slight sweet scent like rain on pavement. The bracing cold was suddenly less bracing. Instead of rounding my shoulders and hunching over to keep any warmth in, I stood tall,

and lifted my face to the open sky. I let my scarf fall away from my neck and took slow, deep breaths. The sun made me blink when I had seen it last, which now felt like weeks ago. It was a bright white, appearing rarely and between snow showers. Now it had a rich honey yellow color, and it felt like pure energy pouring into my system.

I closed my eyes and let it bathe my face. Gosh, I'd forgotten how good that feels. I'd started down the porch steps, unnoticed the icicles dripping from the eaves. I realized, in fact, that there were lots of sounds to tune in, to this morning, squirrels, and some of the hardier birds who stayed through the winter, moving along tree branches, where snow was quickly disappearing. I heard dogs barking

in the distance, garage doors going up, cars on the next street over, activity. It was inspiring. I'd loved this stretch of time when winter slowed us to a stop, when everything was paused. and I'd been able to retreat into my cozy house, stay in my favorite jammies all day, watch movies, and make soup. But now it felt like a nice change of pace to do something else, and the day seemed to be encouraged. just that. At the bottom of the steps, I reached down for the newspaper,

thankfully well-wrapped and protected. From all this melting snow, I tucked it under one arm and went further down the drive to the sidewalk, Then followed that to the corner a few houses down. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Just wanted to see more, I guess, to see what we were all getting up to, if others could feel the change that I could. Across the street,

I saw a man walking a dog. He waved at me. And even the dog seemed to be smiling. Yes, I think they could feel it too. I crossed the street and went another block over. I passed a frozen pond. One sunny morning hadn't done anything to its inches of frozen ice. And I stopped a moment to look at the way the light caught the angles of its surface. It wasn't even and flat. The wind must have been blowing hard. as the crystals came together. I'd seen pictures before of frozen waves on the Great Lakes.

I'd heard of candle ice that made a beautiful ringing sound as millions of thin straws of frozen water bumped into each other. And once I'd held a frost flower in my hand, a kind of ice that came from a freezing fog. This was just a small pond with a slightly bumpy surface. But still, I felt like I'd stumbled upon something miraculous. I squatted down to look more closely and noticed that in the bright sun, the snow and

sparkled like glitter with a rainbow of colors that I could only catch when the light hit just right. I stood up, tossing the dangling end of my scarf back over my shoulder. I remembered that I had the newspaper under my arm, and that while I did have my boots and coat on, I was still dressed in my pajamas under at all. And maybe I should regroup before continuing any adventures. Making my way back across the street and up the block to my house. I found myself taking one deep breath after another, drawing this new energy deep inside to fill my cup. At my house, I dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table, to read later and went to change into jeans and a sweater. I felt the urge to open a window, but I knew I was getting well ahead of myself.

I remembered an early spring day years before. When I'd had my first apartment and how desperate I had been to let warm air in on a sunny day, I'd opened. all the windows and gone out with friends for lunch. Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned, and by the time I'd made it back home. My little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me, and after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on, to sleep in, older and wiser, I opened the curtains rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.

I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater and just regular socks rather than the double-thick ones, which I knew barely squeezed into my shoes. back downstairs. I donned my coat and boots

and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car warmed up around me, I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect. I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up, reaching into my bag.

I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while. And I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sweet dreams.