The Cabin in Summer

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Speaker 1 I am so excited for the spa day. Candles lit, music on, hot tub warm and ready.

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Speaker 1 Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone,

Speaker 1 in which

Speaker 1 nothing much happens.

Speaker 1 You feel good,

Speaker 1 and then you fall asleep.

Speaker 1 I'm Catherine Nikolai.

Speaker 1 I write and read

Speaker 1 all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens

Speaker 1 with Audio Engineering by Bob Wittersheim.

Speaker 1 We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to the National Book Foundation.

Speaker 1 They work to celebrate the best literature published in the United States, expand its audience, and ensure that books have a prominent place in our culture.

Speaker 1 You can learn more about them in our show notes.

Speaker 1 Did you know that we make extra long episodes of NMH?

Speaker 1 We call them Much More Happens.

Speaker 1 I know I crack me up.

Speaker 1 We just released our second summer favorites edition,

Speaker 1 and it is over eight hours long so if you wake in the night you don't have to do anything you just hear me for a few seconds

Speaker 1 and you're right back to sleep they're available only on our premium feed so go sign up it's so cheap 10 cents a day and the first month is on us

Speaker 1 Find the link in our notes or at nothingmuchhappens.com.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 I'm going to tell you a bedtime story, and it will occupy your mind enough to keep it from wandering, but not so much that it will keep you up.

Speaker 1 All you have to do is listen.

Speaker 1 I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through.

Speaker 1 This is a kind of brain training, so know that it will get better and better with time.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight

Speaker 1 is called The Cabin in Summer.

Speaker 1 And it's a story about days spent in the sunny garden and the shaded forest.

Speaker 1 It's also about lemon balm and raspberries, the cool water of the creek running over your ankles, mushroom hunting and threshold sweeping,

Speaker 1 and the wisdom of wild places handed down from one generation to the next.

Speaker 1 So lights out,

Speaker 1 devices down.

Speaker 1 You have looked at a screen for the last time today.

Speaker 1 You are about to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night.

Speaker 1 Draw a deep breath in through the nose.

Speaker 1 Let it out with a sigh.

Speaker 1 Nice. Once more, breathe in.

Speaker 1 Let it all go.

Speaker 1 Good.

Speaker 1 The cabin in summer

Speaker 1 Thank goodness for old trees

Speaker 1 All around the cabin they stood tall and covered us in shade

Speaker 1 Even on the warmest days of summer they kept us cool

Speaker 1 We could retreat inside after hours in the garden

Speaker 1 or long walks on the trails,

Speaker 1 and we'd instantly feel the relief

Speaker 1 of the dim rooms

Speaker 1 and the fresher air.

Speaker 1 And the summer was proving to be a warm one for sure.

Speaker 1 Our gardens were thriving from the sunny days.

Speaker 1 Our tomatoes particularly loved the high heat and abundant light.

Speaker 1 We'd planted basil

Speaker 1 around and among the tomato cages,

Speaker 1 and every day I pinched them back to keep flowers away

Speaker 1 and more leafy growth coming.

Speaker 1 The zucchini and peppers were growing growing fast,

Speaker 1 and the pumpkin patch was promising an exciting jack-o'-lantern carving season to come.

Speaker 1 Along the split-rail fence at the garden's back,

Speaker 1 vines of wild raspberries grew,

Speaker 1 and most days I picked enough to fill a mug from the cupboard,

Speaker 1 Entwined with the vine

Speaker 1 and growing in low mounds along the fence posts was lemon balm,

Speaker 1 which I hadn't planted, but had somehow found its way here.

Speaker 1 Lemon balm reminded me a bit of mint

Speaker 1 in the shape of its leaves,

Speaker 1 and even slightly in its fragrance.

Speaker 1 The leaves were crinkly

Speaker 1 and heart-shaped,

Speaker 1 and when I bruised them gently,

Speaker 1 they gave off the scent,

Speaker 1 yes, of lemon,

Speaker 1 but something softer,

Speaker 1 like lemon zest,

Speaker 1 and grass and mint altogether.

Speaker 1 I'd been picking stems of it along with the raspberries,

Speaker 1 sometimes just to tuck behind my ear and smell as I worked,

Speaker 1 and sometimes to add to my iced tea.

Speaker 1 But also

Speaker 1 because for me,

Speaker 1 it figured into a good night's sleep

Speaker 1 in plenty of traditions.

Speaker 1 Lemon balm was thought to lift hearts,

Speaker 1 to sweeten thoughts,

Speaker 1 and even dreams.

Speaker 1 So returning to the cool rooms of the cabin with my raspberries

Speaker 1 and my posy of herbs,

Speaker 1 I cut a few stems

Speaker 1 and tucked them into a little satchel.

Speaker 1 Nothing fancy.

Speaker 1 It could be a bit of cheesecloth,

Speaker 1 an old handkerchief, or a scrap of pillowcase.

Speaker 1 I'd tie it shut with a bit of twine

Speaker 1 and tuck it under our pillows

Speaker 1 to ward off nightmares

Speaker 1 and bring us sweet dreams.

Speaker 1 Every few days I refreshed the herbs,

Speaker 1 and I found the ritual soothing,

Speaker 1 even if it wasn't exactly rational.

Speaker 1 I didn't need it to be.

Speaker 1 Work in a garden long enough,

Speaker 1 and you'll learn there are rhythms we hardly tap into,

Speaker 1 patterns unseen by most,

Speaker 1 that there are more things in garden and woods than are dreamt of in most philosophy.

Speaker 1 And it made me happy to do something small

Speaker 1 to take care of us. It made me smile.

Speaker 1 And maybe that was the magic of it.

Speaker 1 In the same vein, I'd set out two raspberries

Speaker 1 and a thimble full of water

Speaker 1 on the windowsill at night

Speaker 1 for the fairies, of course.

Speaker 1 And most mornings the berries would be gone,

Speaker 1 the thimble tipped over and dry, except for the dew that had settled on it.

Speaker 1 I was betting I was making some starling or warbler happy with my evening traditions.

Speaker 1 But after all, birds are a sort of fairy, aren't they?

Speaker 1 There was also the creek to pay regular visits to.

Speaker 1 Sometimes we went all together, the dog as well.

Speaker 1 We'd walk the trails after dinner

Speaker 1 and hunt mushrooms that grew from the tree trunks,

Speaker 1 chaga and wood ears,

Speaker 1 and hen of the woods, or hens of the wood

Speaker 1 we weren't sure which

Speaker 1 but often I went by myself.

Speaker 1 I loved listening to the babble of the water,

Speaker 1 watching it as it rushed over rocks

Speaker 1 or spiraled in eddies,

Speaker 1 stepping into it on a hot day with my bare feet,

Speaker 1 feeling the cool water

Speaker 1 rising up over my ankles.

Speaker 1 It was a heavenly feeling,

Speaker 1 and one that washed most thoughts from my head.

Speaker 1 There is a saying

Speaker 1 that a person can't step into the same river twice,

Speaker 1 for the river has changed,

Speaker 1 and so has the person.

Speaker 1 And that did feel true each each trip out,

Speaker 1 even when the summer days repeated themselves with familiar actions, meals, and rhythms.

Speaker 1 I was different,

Speaker 1 and so was the water.

Speaker 1 And it made me think of another bit of folklore.

Speaker 1 I must have learned it when I learned to use lemon balm and feed the fairies.

Speaker 1 The advice was that trees are keepers

Speaker 1 and rivers are carriers.

Speaker 1 So tell the trees the things you need held,

Speaker 1 your secrets and memories,

Speaker 1 the puzzles you haven't worked out yet,

Speaker 1 and the wishes that weren't quite fully formed.

Speaker 1 They would hold them for you.

Speaker 1 But tell the water what you wanted carried away,

Speaker 1 their worries and cares,

Speaker 1 the things you were done with and didn't serve you any longer

Speaker 1 in the evenings when the dishes were drying on the drain board

Speaker 1 and the fireflies were beginning to shimmer in the yard,

Speaker 1 before I set out the berries,

Speaker 1 or we laid our heads down on our lemon-scented pillows,

Speaker 1 I'd do one last bit of housekeeping,

Speaker 1 one more traditional practice that had been handed down to me

Speaker 1 when we were done reading our books on the porch,

Speaker 1 and the dog had made his last trip out into the grass,

Speaker 1 I'd be the last to go in.

Speaker 1 I kept a broom in the corner of the porch,

Speaker 1 and I took a moment to sweep the steps and the threshold.

Speaker 1 I swept in counterclockwise circles,

Speaker 1 a pattern called Wittershins.

Speaker 1 And as I went,

Speaker 1 I cleared the day out of my mind.

Speaker 1 I swept out the cobwebs

Speaker 1 and spare used-up thoughts,

Speaker 1 any unkindness,

Speaker 1 or uncharitable thinking.

Speaker 1 And once the threshold was clean,

Speaker 1 I turned the broom over so its bristles faced up

Speaker 1 and propped it back in the corner.

Speaker 1 The upturned broom was meant to protect us from any unwelcome visitors in the night,

Speaker 1 and was a habit I'd learned directly from my grandmother.

Speaker 1 She'd even used it when she was ready for a house guest to be on their way.

Speaker 1 She'd send send me into her cleaning cupboard to stand the broom up on its end.

Speaker 1 And within ten minutes, sure enough,

Speaker 1 we would have the house to ourselves again.

Speaker 1 I often thought of her as I stepped inside and closed the door on the night.

Speaker 1 Grateful for the wise women who passed down ways to send worries into water,

Speaker 1 wishes into action,

Speaker 1 and to build a safe place

Speaker 1 to lay your head

Speaker 1 and dream in peace.

Speaker 1 The cabin in summer

Speaker 1 Thank goodness for old trees

Speaker 1 all around the cabin,

Speaker 1 they stood tall

Speaker 1 and covered us in shade.

Speaker 1 Even on the warmest days of summer,

Speaker 1 they kept us cool.

Speaker 1 We could retreat inside

Speaker 1 after hours in the garden

Speaker 1 or long walks on the trails,

Speaker 1 and we'd instantly feel the relief of the dim rooms,

Speaker 1 the fresher air.

Speaker 1 And this summer was proving to be a warm one, for sure.

Speaker 1 Our gardens were thriving from the sunny days,

Speaker 1 Our tomatoes, particularly, loved the high heat

Speaker 1 and abundant light.

Speaker 1 We'd planted basil

Speaker 1 around and among the tomato cages,

Speaker 1 and every day I pinched them back

Speaker 1 to keep their flowers away,

Speaker 1 and more leafy growth coming.

Speaker 1 The zucchini and peppers

Speaker 1 were growing fast,

Speaker 1 and the pumpkin patch was promising

Speaker 1 an exciting jack-o'-lantern carving season to come.

Speaker 1 Along the split rail fence

Speaker 1 at the garden's back,

Speaker 1 vines of wild raspberries grew

Speaker 1 And most days I picked enough to fill a mug from the cupboard

Speaker 1 Entwined with the vine

Speaker 1 And growing in low mounds along the fence posts was lemon balm

Speaker 1 which I hadn't planted,

Speaker 1 but had somehow found its way here.

Speaker 1 Lemon balm reminded me a bit of mint

Speaker 1 in the shape of its leaves

Speaker 1 and even slightly in its fragrance.

Speaker 1 The leaves were crinkly

Speaker 1 and heart-shaped,

Speaker 1 and when I bruised them gently,

Speaker 1 they gave off the scent,

Speaker 1 yes, of lemon,

Speaker 1 but something softer,

Speaker 1 like

Speaker 1 lemon zest

Speaker 1 and grass

Speaker 1 and mint altogether.

Speaker 1 I'd been picking stems of it,

Speaker 1 along with the raspberries

Speaker 1 sometimes just to tuck behind my ear

Speaker 1 and smell as I worked

Speaker 1 and sometimes to add to my iced tea

Speaker 1 but also because, for me,

Speaker 1 it figured into a good night's sleep

Speaker 1 and plenty of traditions.

Speaker 1 Lemon balm was thought to lift hearts,

Speaker 1 to sweeten thoughts, and even dreams.

Speaker 1 So, returning to the cool rooms of the cabin, with my raspberries

Speaker 1 and my posy of herbs,

Speaker 1 I'd cut a few stems

Speaker 1 and tuck them into a little satchel.

Speaker 1 Nothing fancy.

Speaker 1 It could be a bit of cheesecloth,

Speaker 1 an old kerchief,

Speaker 1 or scrap of pillowcase.

Speaker 1 I'd tie it shut with a bit of twine

Speaker 1 and tuck it under our pillows to ward off nightmares

Speaker 1 and bring us sweet dreams.

Speaker 1 Every few days I refreshed the herbs,

Speaker 1 and I found the ritual soothing,

Speaker 1 even if it wasn't exactly rational.

Speaker 1 I didn't need it to be.

Speaker 1 Work in a garden garden long enough,

Speaker 1 and you'll learn

Speaker 1 there are rhythms we hardly tap into,

Speaker 1 patterns unseen by most.

Speaker 1 There are more things in garden and woods

Speaker 1 than are dreamt of in most philosophy.

Speaker 1 And it made me happy

Speaker 1 to do something small to take take care of us.

Speaker 1 It made me smile,

Speaker 1 and maybe that was the magic of it.

Speaker 1 In the same vein,

Speaker 1 I'd set out two raspberries

Speaker 1 and a thimble full of water on the window sill at night

Speaker 1 for the fairies, of course.

Speaker 1 And most mornings the berries would be gone,

Speaker 1 the thimble tipped over and dry,

Speaker 1 except for the dew that settled on it.

Speaker 1 I was betting I was making some starling or warbler

Speaker 1 happy with my evening tradition.

Speaker 1 But after all,

Speaker 1 birds are a sort of fairy, aren't they?

Speaker 1 There was also the creek to pay regular visits to.

Speaker 1 Sometimes we all went together

Speaker 1 the dog as well.

Speaker 1 We'd walk the trails after dinner and hunt mushrooms that grew from tree trunks,

Speaker 1 chaga,

Speaker 1 and wood ears,

Speaker 1 and hen of the woods,

Speaker 1 or

Speaker 1 hens of the wood.

Speaker 1 We weren't sure which.

Speaker 1 But often I went by myself.

Speaker 1 I loved listening to the babble of the water,

Speaker 1 watching it as it rushed over rocks or spiraled in eddies.

Speaker 1 Stepping into it on a hot day with my bare feet,

Speaker 1 feeling the cool water

Speaker 1 rising up over my ankles,

Speaker 1 it was a heavenly feeling,

Speaker 1 and one that washed most thoughts from my head.

Speaker 1 There is that saying

Speaker 1 that a person

Speaker 1 can't step into the same river twice.

Speaker 1 For the river has changed,

Speaker 1 and so has the person.

Speaker 1 And that did feel true

Speaker 1 each trip out,

Speaker 1 even when the summer days repeated themselves with familiar actions, meals, and rhythms,

Speaker 1 I was different,

Speaker 1 and so was the water.

Speaker 1 It made me think of another bit of folklore.

Speaker 1 I must have learned it when I learned to use lemon balm

Speaker 1 and to feed the fairies.

Speaker 1 the advice was that trees are keepers,

Speaker 1 and rivers are carriers.

Speaker 1 So tell the trees the things you need held,

Speaker 1 your secrets and memories,

Speaker 1 the puzzles you haven't worked out yet,

Speaker 1 and the wishes that weren't quite fully formed

Speaker 1 they would hold them for you

Speaker 1 But tell the water what you wanted carried away

Speaker 1 Your worries and your cares

Speaker 1 The things you were done with

Speaker 1 and didn't serve you any longer

Speaker 1 In the evenings,

Speaker 1 when the dishes were drying on the drain board,

Speaker 1 and the fireflies were beginning to shimmer in the yard,

Speaker 1 before I set out the fairy's meal,

Speaker 1 or we laid our heads down

Speaker 1 on lemon-scented pillows,

Speaker 1 I do one last bit of housekeeping,

Speaker 1 one more traditional practice

Speaker 1 that had been handed down to me

Speaker 1 when we were done reading our books on the porch,

Speaker 1 and the dog had made his last trip out into the grass.

Speaker 1 I'd be the last to go in.

Speaker 1 I kept a broom in the corner of the porch,

Speaker 1 and I took a moment to sweep the steps and the threshold.

Speaker 1 I swept in counterclockwise circles,

Speaker 1 a pattern called Wittershins.

Speaker 1 And as I went, I cleared the day of my mind.

Speaker 1 I swept out the cobwebs

Speaker 1 and spare

Speaker 1 used up thoughts

Speaker 1 any unkindness

Speaker 1 or uncharitable thinking.

Speaker 1 And once the threshold was clean,

Speaker 1 I turned the broom over

Speaker 1 so its bristles faced up

Speaker 1 and propped it back in the corner.

Speaker 1 The upturned broom was meant to protect us

Speaker 1 from any unwelcome visitors in the night

Speaker 1 and was a habit I'd learned directly from my grandmother.

Speaker 1 She'd even used it

Speaker 1 when she was ready

Speaker 1 for a house guest to be on their way.

Speaker 1 She'd send me into her cleaning cupboard

Speaker 1 to stand the broom up on its end.

Speaker 1 And within ten minutes,

Speaker 1 sure enough,

Speaker 1 we'd have the house to ourselves again.

Speaker 1 I often thought of her

Speaker 1 as I stepped inside

Speaker 1 and closed the door on the night,

Speaker 1 grateful for the wise women

Speaker 1 who passed down ways to send worries

Speaker 1 into water,

Speaker 1 wishes into action

Speaker 1 and to build a safe place

Speaker 1 to lay your head

Speaker 1 and dream in peace,

Speaker 1 sweet dreams.