From the Hammock (Encore)

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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

Speaker 1 You fall asleep.

Speaker 1 I'm Catherine Nikolai.

Speaker 1 I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

Speaker 1 Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

Speaker 1 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.

Speaker 1 And since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different.

Speaker 1 But the stories are always soothing and family-friendly. And our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams.

Speaker 1 Let me say a little about how to use this podcast.

Speaker 1 When your mind wanders and then races at night, keeping you up, making you feel anxious and exhausted.

Speaker 1 You need a way to guide it,

Speaker 1 to steer it into calm waters.

Speaker 1 And that's what these stories are.

Speaker 1 They are quiet, simple places to rest your mind.

Speaker 1 Just by following along with the sound of my voice, you'll begin to train your brain for better sleep.

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

Speaker 1 If you wake in the middle of the night, think back to any part of the story that you can remember.

Speaker 1 Lean into whatever details you can recall or create,

Speaker 1 and you'll drop right back off.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight is called From the Hammock.

Speaker 1 And it's a story about naps

Speaker 1 and where

Speaker 1 and when

Speaker 1 and under what circumstances we take them.

Speaker 1 It's also about a slow walk through the garden,

Speaker 1 jars of pickles put up in the cellar,

Speaker 1 and knowing that what you seek

Speaker 1 seeking you,

Speaker 1 it's time.

Speaker 1 Turn off your light.

Speaker 1 Settle down into your favorite sleeping position.

Speaker 1 You have done enough for today.

Speaker 1 It is enough.

Speaker 1 Now it is time to sleep.

Speaker 1 And I'll be here, watching over as you drift off.

Speaker 1 Take a slow breath in through your nose

Speaker 1 and sigh out through your mouth

Speaker 1 again

Speaker 1 in

Speaker 1 and out.

Speaker 1 Good

Speaker 1 from the hammock.

Speaker 1 There are different kinds of naps.

Speaker 1 There is the accidental nap,

Speaker 1 the one you didn't see coming.

Speaker 1 When you've settled in to watch a movie or read your book,

Speaker 1 and suddenly you find yourself sliding deeper into the sofa.

Speaker 1 the book falling from your hands, or the movie playing on without you as you drop off.

Speaker 1 Then there is the car nap.

Speaker 1 This one is particularly sweet when you're on a lengthy road trip

Speaker 1 or the way home from a long day out,

Speaker 1 curled up in the passenger seat

Speaker 1 or in the back,

Speaker 1 with an equally sleeping kiddo's head on your shoulder,

Speaker 1 a belly full of Thanksgiving dinner,

Speaker 1 and the radio on quietly as street lights roll past.

Speaker 1 Sometimes a nap is fully planned.

Speaker 1 You pull the shades in the bedroom

Speaker 1 and get out of your clothes at two in the afternoon

Speaker 1 and slide between the sheets,

Speaker 1 which

Speaker 1 in that moment has never felt better in your life.

Speaker 1 You stretch out and take up the whole bed

Speaker 1 and just register the sound of cars passing on the street

Speaker 1 before you slip into sleep.

Speaker 1 But the best nap,

Speaker 1 at least in my opinion,

Speaker 1 is the nap after a day in the sun, swimming and playing,

Speaker 1 gardening or walking.

Speaker 1 Maybe you've even had a shower

Speaker 1 and dressed in cleaned soft clothes

Speaker 1 and found that irresistible heaviness pulling you down into a hammock

Speaker 1 or some other shady spot

Speaker 1 where you sleep

Speaker 1 until someone wakes you

Speaker 1 to tell you that supper is ready.

Speaker 1 Those are the naps I still think of.

Speaker 1 the ones I took as a child,

Speaker 1 with the comforting sound of grown ups in the background,

Speaker 1 chatting and laughing as they cooked on the grill,

Speaker 1 or shucked corn,

Speaker 1 the clink of plates and cups and forks being set out,

Speaker 1 and then a soft touch on my shoulder,

Speaker 1 cool hand on my face,

Speaker 1 to let me know it was time to wash up

Speaker 1 and come to the table.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 grown up myself,

Speaker 1 I'd had a few chances to be that cool hand,

Speaker 1 that quiet voice that called someone else from their nap,

Speaker 1 and watched them blink and yawn before filling their plate

Speaker 1 and happily tucking in.

Speaker 1 I was thinking of it today,

Speaker 1 of the kinds of naps,

Speaker 1 and the memories of sleepily dropping off in different spots

Speaker 1 as I rowed the boat in from the center of the lake.

Speaker 1 There were already folks stretched out in lounge chairs

Speaker 1 and dozing on beach towels by the edge of the water.

Speaker 1 They'd only gotten out of their beds a few hours ago,

Speaker 1 but were peacefully sawing logs in the sand.

Speaker 1 That's the way of vacations.

Speaker 1 All that pent-up exhaustion, finally being given into.

Speaker 1 The sun was still an hour or so away from its highest spot,

Speaker 1 and the day was getting warmer.

Speaker 1 The morning mist had burned off completely,

Speaker 1 and the june bugs were singing in the trees.

Speaker 1 When my oars bumped along the sandy lake bottom, I pulled them into the boat

Speaker 1 and carefully shifted on the seat till I could step out into the water.

Speaker 1 It wasn't even midsummer yet,

Speaker 1 but here in the shallows, the water was warm.

Speaker 1 I pulled the boat up onto the sandy, grassy land and found my sneakers and coffee cup where I'd left them.

Speaker 1 I tipped the dregs of the coffee into the grass

Speaker 1 and hooked my fingers through my laces

Speaker 1 and walked barefoot up toward the inn.

Speaker 1 The lilacs were done blooming,

Speaker 1 but behind the great old house

Speaker 1 was a row of tall trees, clusters of white flowers,

Speaker 1 high in the leaves.

Speaker 1 They looked a bit like hydrangeas,

Speaker 1 the ones that grow in cone shapes, with green leaves shaped like oaks.

Speaker 1 I had a feeling that the innkeeper had told me,

Speaker 1 probably more than once,

Speaker 1 the name of the tree.

Speaker 1 was it a crepe myrtle

Speaker 1 or an oleander?

Speaker 1 Whatever it was called, it dropped a light, sweet scent into the air,

Speaker 1 and gave shade to the side yard,

Speaker 1 where the chef grew tomatoes and herbs in a garden edged with rocks.

Speaker 1 I guessed I was looking for the innkeeper

Speaker 1 to thank her for the coffee and the use of the rowboat.

Speaker 1 But I was in no hurry,

Speaker 1 so I decided to wander through the garden.

Speaker 1 There were a half dozen or so green tomatoes on each plant,

Speaker 1 and I rubbed their prickly leaves to smell their good tangy scent.

Speaker 1 In the herb garden, chive flowers, spiky and bright purple, were waving in the breeze.

Speaker 1 And I spotted thick mounds of oregano

Speaker 1 and parragon and lemon verbena.

Speaker 1 The dill was already high

Speaker 1 and I thought of all the lovely pickled things the chef would make before the summer was over.

Speaker 1 In the cool kitchen basement there was a room of shelves behind the tiny wine cellar,

Speaker 1 and each shelf was full of neat rows of jarred pickles and vegetables,

Speaker 1 okra,

Speaker 1 carrots, cucumbers,

Speaker 1 all mixed with dill and spices and tart vinegar.

Speaker 1 I'd been called in to help whenever there was a bumper crop,

Speaker 1 trading my time and chopping skills for a basket full of jars to take home to my own shelves.

Speaker 1 Past the kitchen garden, there was a bit of space for games.

Speaker 1 This is where we'd played Badmitten when we were kids.

Speaker 1 There was a croquet set.

Speaker 1 The rubber mallet ends stained green for many swings into the grass.

Speaker 1 The orange ball had gone missing years and years ago,

Speaker 1 and I had a vague memory that we were likely to blame.

Speaker 1 Perhaps we'd been chasing it down the hill with the mallets

Speaker 1 until one of us had knocked it out into the lake and then ski-daddled before we'd been caught.

Speaker 1 Still,

Speaker 1 you could play just fine with five balls.

Speaker 1 Closer to the house, under the shade of an open umbrella, a checkerboard was laid out with a game in process across the squares.

Speaker 1 Probably a few kids had started it and then run off to jump in the lake.

Speaker 1 When they'd got tired of swimming, they'd wrap up in big beach towels and come back to battle it out some more.

Speaker 1 I turned the corner of the yard, stepping onto the gravel of the big circle drive that led to the inn's door.

Speaker 1 I peeked in to see if the innkeeper was standing behind the desk with the big guest book swiveled around in front of her

Speaker 1 or pulling a key from the numbered cubbies at her back.

Speaker 1 But the lobby was empty.

Speaker 1 I walked on around the far corner of the house and to the other side.

Speaker 1 There were a few benches scattered here and there,

Speaker 1 facing down the slope to the water,

Speaker 1 where guests sat to watch the sunset and the fireflies come out.

Speaker 1 Among the trees were a couple ancient hammocks, made from canvas and cotton,

Speaker 1 and smelling of the filtered sunlight they were stretched out in.

Speaker 1 I stopped to think.

Speaker 1 Wait, does sunlight have a scent?

Speaker 1 But then I thought of the towels drying on the line in my backyard,

Speaker 1 of the way your skin smells when you've driven for a while with the window down and one arm stuck out into the wind,

Speaker 1 and realized that it certainly does.

Speaker 1 I had no reason not to,

Speaker 1 not to sink down into the hammock and lay back and sling my feet up.

Speaker 1 No reason not to close my eyes to the blue sky and watch the afterimage of the day fade behind my lids.

Speaker 1 No reason not to drift and sleep.

Speaker 1 I had a feeling that after a while

Speaker 1 the innkeeper who I'd been looking for

Speaker 1 would find me,

Speaker 1 would lay a soft hand on my shoulder,

Speaker 1 and let me know in a low voice

Speaker 1 that there were sandwiches being served on the porch if I was hungry.

Speaker 1 I would be.

Speaker 1 from the hammock.

Speaker 1 There are different kinds of naps.

Speaker 1 There is

Speaker 1 the accidental nap,

Speaker 1 the one you didn't see coming

Speaker 1 when you've settled in to watch a movie

Speaker 1 or read your book

Speaker 1 and suddenly

Speaker 1 you find yourself sliding deeper into the sofa,

Speaker 1 the book falling from your hands,

Speaker 1 or the movie playing on without you as you drop off.

Speaker 1 Then there is the car nap.

Speaker 1 This one is particularly sweet

Speaker 1 when you're on a lengthy road trip

Speaker 1 or the way home from a long day out,

Speaker 1 curled up in the passenger seat,

Speaker 1 or in the back, with an equally sleepy kiddo's head on your shoulder,

Speaker 1 a belly full of Thanksgiving dinner,

Speaker 1 and the radio on quietly

Speaker 1 as street lights roll past.

Speaker 1 Sometimes a nap is fully planned.

Speaker 1 You pull the shades in the bedroom

Speaker 1 and get out of your clothes at two in the afternoon

Speaker 1 and slide between the sheets,

Speaker 1 which

Speaker 1 in that moment

Speaker 1 have never felt better in your life.

Speaker 1 You stretch out and take up the whole bed

Speaker 1 and just register the sound of cars passing on the street

Speaker 1 before you slip into sleep.

Speaker 1 But the best nap,

Speaker 1 at least in my opinion,

Speaker 1 is the nap after a day in the sun,

Speaker 1 swimming and playing,

Speaker 1 gardening or walking.

Speaker 1 Maybe you've even had a shower

Speaker 1 and dressed in clean soft clothes

Speaker 1 and found that irresistible heaviness pulling you down

Speaker 1 into a hammock

Speaker 1 or some other shady spot

Speaker 1 where you sleep

Speaker 1 until someone wakes you

Speaker 1 to tell you that supper is ready.

Speaker 1 Those are the naps I still think of

Speaker 1 the ones I took as a child

Speaker 1 with the comforting sound of grown-ups in the background,

Speaker 1 chatting and laughing

Speaker 1 as they cooked on the grill

Speaker 1 or shucked corn

Speaker 1 a clink of plates and cups and forks

Speaker 1 being set out,

Speaker 1 and then a soft touch on my shoulder,

Speaker 1 a cool hand on my face

Speaker 1 to let me know it was time to wash up

Speaker 1 and come to the table.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 grown up myself,

Speaker 1 I'd had a few chances

Speaker 1 to be that cool hand,

Speaker 1 that quiet voice

Speaker 1 that called someone else from their nap

Speaker 1 and watched them blink and yawn

Speaker 1 before filling their plate

Speaker 1 and happily tucking in.

Speaker 1 I was thinking of it to day

Speaker 1 of the kinds of naps and the memories

Speaker 1 of sleepily dropping off in different spots as I rowed the boat in from the center of the lake.

Speaker 1 There were already folks stretched out in lounge chairs

Speaker 1 and dozing on beach towels by the edge of the water.

Speaker 1 They'd only gotten out of their beds a few hours ago,

Speaker 1 but were peacefully sawing logs in the sand.

Speaker 1 That's the way of vacations.

Speaker 1 All that pent up exhaustion

Speaker 1 finally being given into.

Speaker 1 The sun was still an hour or so away from its highest spot,

Speaker 1 and the day was getting warmer.

Speaker 1 The morning mist had burned off completely,

Speaker 1 and the June bugs were singing in the trees.

Speaker 1 When my oars bumped along the sandy lake bottom,

Speaker 1 I pulled them into the boat

Speaker 1 and carefully shifted on the seat

Speaker 1 till I could step out into the water.

Speaker 1 It wasn't even midsummer yet,

Speaker 1 but here,

Speaker 1 in the shallows,

Speaker 1 the water was warm.

Speaker 1 I pulled the boat up onto the sandy, grassy land,

Speaker 1 and found my sneakers and coffee cup where I'd left them.

Speaker 1 I tipped the dregs of the coffee into the grass

Speaker 1 and hooked my fingers through the laces

Speaker 1 and walked barefoot

Speaker 1 up toward the inn

Speaker 1 the lilacs were done blooming

Speaker 1 but behind the great old house

Speaker 1 was a row of tall trees with clusters of white flowers high in the leaves.

Speaker 1 They looked a bit like hydrangeas,

Speaker 1 the ones that grow in cone shapes, with green leaves shaped like oaks.

Speaker 1 I had a feeling that the innkeeper had told me,

Speaker 1 probably

Speaker 1 more than once,

Speaker 1 the name of the tree.

Speaker 1 Was it a crepe myrtle

Speaker 1 or an oleander?

Speaker 1 Whatever it was called,

Speaker 1 it dropped a light, sweet scent into the air

Speaker 1 and gave shade to the side yard,

Speaker 1 where the chef grew tomatoes and herbs

Speaker 1 in a garden edged with rocks.

Speaker 1 I guessed I was looking for the innkeeper

Speaker 1 to thank her for the coffee and the use of the rowboat.

Speaker 1 But I was in no hurry,

Speaker 1 so I decided to wander through the gardens.

Speaker 1 There were a half dozen or so green tomatoes on each plant,

Speaker 1 and I rubbed their prickly leaves

Speaker 1 to smell their good tangy scent.

Speaker 1 In the herb garden, chive flowers,

Speaker 1 spiky and bright purple, were waving in the breeze,

Speaker 1 and I spotted thick mounds of oregano

Speaker 1 and tarragon

Speaker 1 and lemon verbena.

Speaker 1 The dill was already high,

Speaker 1 and I thought of all the lovely pickled things

Speaker 1 the chef would make

Speaker 1 before the summer was over.

Speaker 1 in the cool kitchen basement

Speaker 1 there was a room of shelves behind the tiny wine cellar,

Speaker 1 and each shelf was full of neat rows of jarred pickles and vegetables,

Speaker 1 okra,

Speaker 1 carrots,

Speaker 1 cucumbers,

Speaker 1 all mixed with dill and spices and tart vinegar.

Speaker 1 I'd often been called in to help

Speaker 1 whenever there was a bumper crop,

Speaker 1 trading my time and chopping skills

Speaker 1 for a basket full of jars

Speaker 1 to take home to my own shelves.

Speaker 1 Past the kitchen gardens

Speaker 1 there was a bit of space for games.

Speaker 1 This is where we'd played badminton when we were kids.

Speaker 1 There was a croquet set.

Speaker 1 The rubber mallet ends stained green for many swings into the grass.

Speaker 1 The orange ball had gone missing

Speaker 1 years and years ago

Speaker 1 And I had a vague memory that

Speaker 1 we were likely to blame.

Speaker 1 Perhaps we'd been chasing it down the hill with the mallets

Speaker 1 until one of us had knocked it out into the lake

Speaker 1 and then skedaddled

Speaker 1 before we'd been caught.

Speaker 1 Still,

Speaker 1 you could play just fine with five balls.

Speaker 1 Closer to the house,

Speaker 1 under the shade of an open umbrella,

Speaker 1 a checkerboard was laid out

Speaker 1 with a game in process across the squares.

Speaker 1 Probably

Speaker 1 a few kids had started it

Speaker 1 and then run off to jump in the lake.

Speaker 1 When they got tired of swimming, they'd wrap up in big beach towels

Speaker 1 and come back to battle it out some more.

Speaker 1 I turned the corner of the yard,

Speaker 1 stepping onto the gravel of the big circle drive

Speaker 1 that led to the inn's front door.

Speaker 1 I peeked in to see if the innkeeper was standing behind the desk,

Speaker 1 with the big guest book

Speaker 1 swiveled around in front of her,

Speaker 1 or pulling a key from the numbered cubbies at her back.

Speaker 1 But the lobby was empty.

Speaker 1 I walked around the far corner of the house and to the other side.

Speaker 1 There were benches scattered here and there,

Speaker 1 facing down the slope to the water,

Speaker 1 where guests sat to watch the sunset

Speaker 1 and the fire flies coming out.

Speaker 1 Among the trees

Speaker 1 were a couple ancient hammocks

Speaker 1 made from canvas

Speaker 1 and cotton,

Speaker 1 and smelling of the filtered sunlight they were stretched out in.

Speaker 1 I stopped to think

Speaker 1 Wait,

Speaker 1 does sunlight have a scent?

Speaker 1 But then I thought of the towels drying on the line in my backyard

Speaker 1 of the way your skin smells

Speaker 1 when you've driven for a while

Speaker 1 with the window down

Speaker 1 and one arm stuck out into the wind

Speaker 1 and realized that it certainly does.

Speaker 1 I had no reason not to

Speaker 1 not to sink down into a hammock and lay back

Speaker 1 and sling my feet up.

Speaker 1 No reason not to close my eyes to the blue sky

Speaker 1 and watch the after image of the day

Speaker 1 fade behind my lids.

Speaker 1 No reason not to drift and sleep.

Speaker 1 I had a feeling that after a while

Speaker 1 the innkeeper,

Speaker 1 who I'd been looking for,

Speaker 1 would find me,

Speaker 1 would lay a soft hand on my shoulder,

Speaker 1 and let me know, in a low voice,

Speaker 1 that there were sandwiches being served on the porch if I was hungry.

Speaker 1 I would be.

Speaker 1 Sweet dreams.