Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Sycamore & the Gravestones, Part 1

Episode Date: October 23, 2023

Our story tonight is called Sycamore and the Gravestones (Part 1), and apart from that being the best band name I’ve ever heard in my life, it is the first of our three-part Halloween special. It’s a story about a trip back to the Curios Shop and plans for one of the best times of year. It’s also about words written in blue chalk on a board, a dream about a familiar tree, and a way to remember others with kindness and care. Bob has spooked-up versions of our Halloween stories from every year of the show; they’re a lot of fun, full of sound effects, and available for free at nothingmuchhappens.com. While you’re there, you can buy merch, sign up for our ad-free and bonus episodes, and just enjoy some of the lovely illustrations of our village. We give to a different charity each week, and this week, we are giving to Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which exists to protect Africa’s wildlife and to preserve habitats for the future of all wild species. https://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.orgPurchase 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 read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which exists to protect Africa's wildlife and to preserve habitats for the future of all wild species. We have a link to them in our show notes. Bob has created spooked up versions of our Halloween stories from every year of the show.

They're a lot of fun, full of sound effects, and available for free at nothingmuchappens.com. While you're there, you can buy merch, sign up for our ad-free and bonus episodes, and just enjoy some of the lovely illustrations of our village. Now, this podcast works by giving your mind a place to rest, something soothing and simple to focus on, so that the background static goes quiet, and you can relax and sleep. I'll tell the story twice,

and I'll go a little slower on the second read-through. If you wake in the middle of the night, take your mind right back to any of the details you can remember, and you'll drop right back off, or just restart the story. This is brain training, so be patient as we plant these seeds. Now, it's time to turn off the light and put away anything you were looking at. Prioritize your own comfort right now. Get into your favorite sleeping position and set all the pillows and blankets around in just the way you like. You are about to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night. Take a slow breath in through your nose. Let it out with a sigh. Do it one more time. Breathe in and release it.

Good. Our story tonight is called Sycamore and the Gravestones. And apart from that being the best band name I've ever heard in my life, it is the first of our three-part Halloween special. It's a story about a trip back to the Curious Shop and plans for one of the best times of the year. It's also about words written in blue chalk on a board, a dream about a familiar tree, and a way to remember others with kindness and care. Sycamore and the Gravestones Part 1.

It is all well and good to meet the full moon, to dance in a secret meadow, and fill our cauldrons with herbs and simmering moon water, which, actually, now that I think about it, we haven't done in quite a while, and I should perhaps make a note on the calendar to plan such an evening. But I digress. That kind of witch life is lovely

but our little coven is also very dedicated to community service so we more often find ourselves picking up litter in the woods

while chatting with the birds and the squirrels. Or charming the books at the library to fall into the right hands at the moment their stories are needed. Or casting calming spells at that corner by the pharmacy where the traffic backs up and folks can get a bit short-tempered. In the spring, we'd carved some sigils into the fence posts at an old, abandoned house outside of town that needed a caregiver. And by the time the lilacs were blooming, one had been found.

During the summer, we tried to visit as many vegetable gardens as possible. We were casual about it, just inviting ourselves into our neighbors' yards, and when they weren't looking, pressing a bit of good luck into their soil. and listen, I'm not bragging or anything, but if you had a tomato sandwich this past August, well, you know they were some of the best tasting we'd had in a long time. Then there was the wedding at the inn we were all busy for weeks with that from keeping the invitations from getting lost or in one case eaten by a certain chihuahua

as it came through the letter slot to helping with the gifts and on the day of the weather itself as it came through the letter slot, to helping with the gifts, and on the day of, the weather itself. After which, we rested, a form of magic all its own. I lounged as much as possible, read books, watched favorite movies, ate lots of good food and sat in my screened-in porch

with a blanket spread over my legs nearly every day. My cat, Cinder, rested with me. Sometimes when I woke too early and began to feel my brain rousing, she'd shift closer to me and start to purr. The thrumming rhythm would send me right back to sleep. When the new month dawned, I felt ready to start a new project. The cool October air refreshed me, and I found myself excited and planning eagerly for this most important month. Our coven met at my shop, the Curio shop in downtown.

I brewed up a lovely tea for us with, among other things, blue cornflower petals, ginkgo, and peppermint, all ingredients to help us act and think wisely as we planned. While I poured from my big blue teapot with the chipped porcelain lid. Cinder wove through the ankles of the others and sat in an upright, dignified way on the sofa. I have recognized over the years that in the same way that working dogs shift their posture to indicate that they are indeed working and not currently looking for ear scratches, Cinder sits this way when she has something on her mind.

I sat down the pot, picked up my own cup, and sat down the pot picked up my own cup and sat down across from her I let the steam from my cup rise up and warm my face I breathed in the scents of the various herbs and wondered what Cinder was thinking. A sudden flash of

the sycamore tree we'd climbed up into when we'd been working on clearing the clouds, the day of the wedding, blazed through my mind. I sipped the tea and looked into Cinder's yellow eyes. Did we need to go back there, to visit the innkeeper? Or or was it the tree itself or the couple that had been married that day? I was about to ask her outright when the door of the shop opened and our newest witch came in wrapped in a coat and scarf her glasses fogging up instantly in the warm room. It made me giggle, and as I rose to greet her, the image of the sycamore tree slipped from my mind.

Every time I come in here, my glasses fog up, the witch cried as she fought her way out of her coat and started to wipe her lenses on her scarf. Maybe someone is trying to occlude your sight, someone behind me teased. Maybe we just need a break from the simmer pots, she called back. I got her settled on the couch with a cup of tea, and we all began to chat and sip and plan. How How would we celebrate this year? How would we be of service? Behind one of the sofas was an old chalkboard I'd found in the basement when I'd first opened this place. It hung on the wall and had a few pieces of chalk in different colors resting on the wall and had a few pieces of chalk in different colors resting on the sill. One of the witches set her tea down and picked up a piece of chalk and touched it gently

to the board. She paused, then released it, and it stayed where it was, ready to write, at least for a second, then tumbled down and left a blue smudge on her shoe. There was a soft chuckle from the others, and as she picked it up to try again, she stuck her tongue out at us. Take a breath, I reminded her. Remember what you're asking. Be clear about it. Take notes, please, she said, and touched the chalk again to the board. It wiggled a bit, but didn't lose contact with the surface.

Then it began to move in slow, smooth, cursive characters. October, it spelled out, followed by a colon, then waited for our brainstorming to begin. The witch retook her seat and poured herself a bit more tea with a small smile on her face, and we all gave her a quick round of applause. Well then, I said, what shall we do this month?

As we talked, the list on the chalkboard began to grow. Ideas included charming all of the jack-o'-lanterns in the village to glow brightly, even if their candles blew out on Halloween night, about which one member tiredly asked, all of them? Another was to brew a potion to ease stomach aches for those who'd eaten too much candy. One of our members worked at the tea shop, and she kept a collection of tinctures and remedies under the counter for customers in need.

There was a cloud of bats currently living in a barn outside of town, which needed a better home. We could certainly assist there. They were all decent ideas, but none of them had elicited more than an assenting, mm-hmm, from the witches until our newest member spoke up. This was her first full October in the coven, as she'd shown up the year before,

just a day or two before All Hallows. She held her cup close to her chest, letting the warmth of it settle at her heart, and said, I was walking through the graveyard the other day. Oh, well done, very witchy, interrupted one of the others. Yes, well, I noticed that several of the stones were so covered with lichen and grime that they couldn't be read. It just doesn't sit right with me.

Seems undignified. Whoever those people are, they shouldn't be forgotten like that. We'd all sat straighter as she spoke, and within a few moments, vote was taken and the resolution passed that we would gather up our cleaning potions and scrub brushes and give a few souls back their markers, bright and legible and beautiful again. The blue chalk circled the idea, then settled itself back on the sill.

As the meeting broke up, I showed my fellow witches out. One stopped me to mention a dream she'd kept having. Dreams were her speciality. She gleaned much from them, her own and others, and did most of her work while asleep. Do you know that big sycamore tree by the inn? she asked. I nodded. I remembered the flash I'd seen earlier.

Well, I think there's something there you need to see. I don't know what. I'm sorry. When I dream of it, it's very dark. I can't make it out. But there is something there for you or for you to do it's a bit vague I thanked her feeling intrigued I looked down and saw Cinder alert and ready at my feet sounds like we're needed at the inn

she meowed in agreement. Sycamore and the Gravestones Part One It is all well and good to meet at the full moon, to dance in a secret meadow and fill our cauldrons with herbs

and simmering moon water, which, actually, now that I think about it, we haven't done in quite a while, and I should perhaps make a note on the calendar to plan such an evening, but I digress. That kind of witch life is lovely, but our little coven is also very dedicated to community service. So we more often find ourselves picking up litter in the woods

while chatting with the birds and squirrels. Or charming the books at the library to fall into the right hands at the moment their stories are needed or casting calming spells at that corner by the pharmacy where the traffic backs up and folks tend to get a bit short-tempered. In the spring, we'd carved some sigils into the fence posts

at an old, abandoned house outside of town that needed a caregiver. And by the time the lilacs were blooming, one had been found. During the summer, we'd tried to visit as many vegetable gardens as possible. we were casual about it, just inviting ourselves into our neighbor's yards. And when they weren't looking, pressing a bit of good luck into their soil. And listen, I'm not bragging or anything,

but if you had a tomato sandwich this past August, well, you know they were some of the best tasting we'd had in a long time. Then there was the wedding at the inn. We were all busy for weeks with that, from keeping the invitations, from getting lost, or in one case, eaten by a certain chihuahua as it came through the letter slot, to helping with the gifts, and on the day of, the weather itself. After which, we rested, a form of magic all its own. I lounged as much as possible,

read books, watched favorite movies, ate lots of good food, and sat in my screened-in porch with a blanket spread over my legs nearly every day. My cat, Cinder, rested with me. Sometimes, when I woke too early and began to feel my brain rousing,

she'd shift closer to me and start to purr. The thrumming rhythm would send me right back to sleep. When the new month dawned, I felt ready to start a new project. The cool October air refreshed me, and I found myself excited and planning eagerly for this most important month. Our coven met at my shop, the Curious Shop in downtown. I brewed up a lovely tea for us with, among other things, blue cornflower petals, ginkgo, and peppermint, all ingredients to help us act and think wisely as we planned. While I poured from my big blue teapot with the chipped porcelain lid.

Cinder wove through the ankles of the others and sat in an upright, dignified way on the sofa. I have recognized over the years that in the same way that working dogs shift their posture to indicate that they are indeed working and not currently looking for ear scratches. Cinder sits this way when she has something on her mind. I set down the pot, picked up my own cup, and sat down across from her.

I let the steam from my cup rise up and warm my face. I breathed in the scents of the various herbs and wondered what Cinder was thinking. A sudden flash of the sycamore tree we'd climbed up into when we'd been working on clearing the clouds. The day of the wedding blazed through my mind. I sipped the tea and looked into Cinder's yellow eyes. Did we need to go back there? To visit the innkeeper?

Or was it the tree itself? Or the couple that had been married that day? I was about to ask her outright when the door of the shop opened. And our newest witch came in, wrapped in a coat and scarf, her glasses fogging up instantly in the warm room. It made me giggle, and as I rose to greet her, the image of the sycamore tree slipped from my mind. Every time I come in here, my glasses fog up. The witch cried as she fought her way out of her coat

and started to wipe her lenses on her scarf. Maybe someone is trying to occlude your sight, someone behind me teased. Maybe we just need a break from the simmerpots, she called back. I got her settled on the couch with a cup of tea, and we all began to chat and sip and plan. How would we celebrate this year? How would we be of service? Behind one of the sofas was an old chalkboard

I'd found in the basement when I'd first opened this place. It hung on the wall and had a few pieces of chalk in different colors resting on the sill. One of the witches set her tea down, picked up a piece of chalk,

and touched it gently to the board. She paused, then released it, and it stayed right where it was, ready to write, at least for a second, then tumbled down and left a blue smudge on her shoe. There was a soft chuckle from the others, and as she picked it up to try again, she stuck her tongue out at us. Take a breath, I reminded her. Remember what you're asking. Be clear about it.

Take notes, please, she said, and touched the chalk again to the board. It wiggled a bit, but didn't lose contact with the surface. Then it began to move in slow, smooth, cursive characters. October, it spelled, followed by a colon, then waited for our brainstorming to begin. The witch retook her seat and poured herself a bit more tea with a small smile on her face,

and we all gave her a quick round of applause. Well then, I said, what shall we do this month? As we talked, the list on the chalkboard began to grow. Ideas included charming all of the jack-o'-lanterns in the village to glow brightly, even if their candles blew out on Halloween night. To which one member tiredly asked, all of them? Another was to brew a potion to ease stomach aches for those who'd eaten too much candy. One of our members worked at the tea shop, and she kept a collection of tinctures and remedies under the counter for customers in need. There was a cloud of bats currently living in a barn outside of town,

which needed a better home. We could certainly assist there. They were all decent ideas, but none of them had elicited more than an assenting from the witches until our newest member spoke up. This was her first full October in the coven, as she'd shown up the year before, just a day or two before all hallows. She held her cup close to her chest, letting the warmth of it settle at her heart, and said, I was walking through the graveyard the other day. Oh, well done, very witchy, interrupted one of the others. Yes, well, I noticed that several of the stones were so covered with lichen and grime that they couldn't be read.

It just doesn't sit right with me. Seems undignified. Whoever those people are, they shouldn't be forgotten like that. We'd all sat straighter as she spoke and within a few moments a vote was taken and the resolution passed

that we would gather up our cleaning potions scrub brushes and give a few souls back their markers bright and legible and beautiful again and give a few souls back their markers, bright and legible and beautiful again. The blue chalk circled the idea, then settled itself back on the sill. As the meeting broke up and I showed my fellow witches out,

one stopped me to mention a dream she kept having. Dreams were her speciality. She gleaned much from them, hers and others, and did most of her work while asleep. Do you know that big sycamore tree by the inn? She asked. I nodded, remembering the flash of it I'd seen earlier. Well, I think there's something there you need to see. I don't

know what, I'm sorry. When I dream of it, it's very dark. I can't make it out. But there's something there for you, or for you to do. It's a bit vague. I thanked her, feeling intrigued. I looked down and saw Cinder, alert and ready at my feet. It sounds like we are needed at the inn. She meowed in agreement. Sweet dreams.