The Lake at the Inn (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

Speaker 1 all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

Speaker 1 Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittercheim.

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 Your mind needs a place to rest.

Speaker 1 Without one, it will likely wander off and keep you up.

Speaker 1 The story I'm about to tell you is like a nest to settle your mind into.

Speaker 1 Just by listening to the sound of my voice and the simple shape of the tale,

Speaker 1 you'll begin to train your brain to stay in the nest,

Speaker 1 to rest and to sleep.

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

Speaker 1 If you wake in the middle of the night, try thinking your way back through any parts of the story you can remember

Speaker 1 or even just walking yourself through a fond memory.

Speaker 1 We're building better sleep habits and that takes a bit of time and patience.

Speaker 1 But you'll notice that as you go, you'll fall asleep faster

Speaker 1 and return to sleep more easily.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight is called The Lake at the Inn.

Speaker 1 And it's a story about a misty summer morning on the water.

Speaker 1 It's also about a mug of coffee poured by a friend,

Speaker 1 the sounds you hear when you truly stop to listen,

Speaker 1 and a rowboat just waiting to be pushed out away from the shore.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 lights out, campers.

Speaker 1 Snuggle down into your sheets and get the right pillow in the right spot

Speaker 1 and let your whole body relax.

Speaker 1 Whatever you have done today,

Speaker 1 it is enough.

Speaker 1 I am here,

Speaker 1 and I will watch over

Speaker 1 so you can let go of even that last spoonful of alertness

Speaker 1 and just rest.

Speaker 1 Let's take a deep breath in through the nose

Speaker 1 and sigh through the mouth.

Speaker 1 Nice.

Speaker 1 Let's do one more

Speaker 1 in

Speaker 1 and out.

Speaker 1 Good.

Speaker 1 The lake at the inn.

Speaker 1 Mist

Speaker 1 was thick in the trees.

Speaker 1 It shifted slowly through the backyard,

Speaker 1 clinging to the towels I'd forgotten on the clothesline the night before.

Speaker 1 I made the air thick and sweet-smelling,

Speaker 1 like deep woods,

Speaker 1 like when you're so far into the forest

Speaker 1 that there isn't a bit of man-made anything

Speaker 1 anywhere around you.

Speaker 1 And you breathe in the layered scents of fallen trees and grasses and hidden pools of water.

Speaker 1 Watching the mist recede through the hedges made me want to chase it.

Speaker 1 I thought of the lake at the end of the lane,

Speaker 1 wondering if the fog was still thick on the surface.

Speaker 1 I was tying the laces on my sneakers a few minutes later and pulling the screen door closed behind me.

Speaker 1 Eager as a child, I raced down the drive

Speaker 1 and onto the dirt road.

Speaker 1 I liked the way the gravel and grit crunched under my soles.

Speaker 1 And whenever I found a larger stone in my path, I kicked it forward,

Speaker 1 skidding it along the surface,

Speaker 1 hopping it over the puddles and wheel ruts.

Speaker 1 It must have rained overnight.

Speaker 1 I'd slept through it all, with the bedroom windows cracked open a few inches,

Speaker 1 and the ceiling fan turning in lazy circles.

Speaker 1 Now the grass in the fields,

Speaker 1 the growing stalks of corn and beans,

Speaker 1 and the caged tomato plants on the front porches of my neighbours

Speaker 1 were all dripping wet,

Speaker 1 and I thought of how good it feels to have a long drink of water when your throat is dry,

Speaker 1 and found myself being happy for the plants,

Speaker 1 happy for the blades of grass and flowering fruits.

Speaker 1 It doesn't take much to celebrate someone else's good fortune.

Speaker 1 Just a moment's awareness outside of yourself

Speaker 1 and a recollection that we're all connected.

Speaker 1 At the end of the lane,

Speaker 1 I followed a grass path down toward the lake.

Speaker 1 The fog was still sitting on top of the water,

Speaker 1 and though the lake wasn't that big,

Speaker 1 I couldn't quite make out the shore on the other side.

Speaker 1 The sun was just starting to burn through the cloudy haze,

Speaker 1 and I had a sudden urge to get closer to the mist

Speaker 1 before it was gone.

Speaker 1 I wanted to float right through the center of it,

Speaker 1 as if I were being borne along inside a cloud.

Speaker 1 I needed a boat.

Speaker 1 I smiled, thinking of where I could get one.

Speaker 1 Just across a stretch of bare grasses and scrub

Speaker 1 was the neatly trimmed lawn of the inn.

Speaker 1 I would go see the innkeeper.

Speaker 1 We were childhood friends.

Speaker 1 We'd ridden the bus back and forth to school together each day

Speaker 1 and spent summer mornings with bad mitten rackets down by the lake,

Speaker 1 hitting the birdie back and forth between us.

Speaker 1 Once, dressed in our Halloween costumes,

Speaker 1 we'd snuck away from the party on the main floor of the inn

Speaker 1 to creep up into the attic

Speaker 1 with shaky flashlights,

Speaker 1 jumping out from behind old trunks,

Speaker 1 and armchairs draped in sheets to scare one another.

Speaker 1 We'd shrieked and laughed and shrieked some more

Speaker 1 until we'd thoroughly spooked ourselves and run down the attic stairs into the light of the hall,

Speaker 1 not stopping until we got to the library, where we could soothe our jangled nerves with candy apples

Speaker 1 and pretend we'd never really been scared at all.

Speaker 1 I saw her,

Speaker 1 the innkeeper,

Speaker 1 on the back porch of the inn.

Speaker 1 She had a carafe of coffee in her hand,

Speaker 1 and was chatting with a guest whose table was spread with breakfast dishes.

Speaker 1 When she looked up at me, she winked and turned toward the steps.

Speaker 1 She stopped at a table stacked with clean plates and mugs

Speaker 1 and rolls of silver ware.

Speaker 1 She flipped over one of the mugs

Speaker 1 and filled it with the hot coffee.

Speaker 1 She set the carafe down and carried the mug down the steps

Speaker 1 and across the lawn to meet me, where I was leaning one shoulder against the boathouse.

Speaker 1 I reached out for the coffee and wrapped my hands around the thick ceramic mug.

Speaker 1 It had the name and logo of the inn, printed in faded dark blue.

Speaker 1 And I thought that probably everyone in our village had at least one of these mugs in their cupboard.

Speaker 1 They gave them away to guests,

Speaker 1 sold them in the little shop in the front office.

Speaker 1 But I doubted that was how most of us got our hands on them.

Speaker 1 More likely, it was just like this moment now.

Speaker 1 The innkeeper spotted you kneading a cup of coffee, and she handed one over.

Speaker 1 And at some point, you'd realized you'd come home with it.

Speaker 1 She turned toward the water,

Speaker 1 leaned her own back against the boathouse,

Speaker 1 and pointed to a bevy of swans at the edge of the water.

Speaker 1 The parents had long, regal necks and sharp eyes that scanned back and forth

Speaker 1 as their grey, fluffy signets

Speaker 1 clumsily dunked and played in the lake.

Speaker 1 The innkeeper laughed, watching them, and asked,

Speaker 1 Did you want to take a rowboat out?

Speaker 1 Are you

Speaker 1 chasing the mist to day?

Speaker 1 She always saw right through me.

Speaker 1 I nodded, smilingly, behind my mug.

Speaker 1 If you've got one to spare, I said in my best la dee da voice.

Speaker 1 She gestured to the half-dozen or so boats pulled up on the shore and told me to take my pick.

Speaker 1 She bumped one elbow against mine and turned to get back to the breakfast crowd.

Speaker 1 I stood watching the swans,

Speaker 1 finishing my coffee,

Speaker 1 and breathing in the good smell of the lake for a moment,

Speaker 1 and I set my mug in the grass beside the edge of the water,

Speaker 1 and picked my way carefully around the swans to the boats.

Speaker 1 From the random facts file in my brain, I retrieved the memory that male swans are called cobs,

Speaker 1 and females called pens,

Speaker 1 and wondered who had come up with such words, and then who had gone along with it.

Speaker 1 The rowboats were old,

Speaker 1 the varnished wood smelling sweet and dusty even in the open air, and each with the name of a tree stenciled on the bow.

Speaker 1 I'd been out on all of them in my time

Speaker 1 the horn horn beam, the catalpa,

Speaker 1 the pawpaw,

Speaker 1 the hawthorn.

Speaker 1 But my favorite, and the last one in the row at the water, was the sycamore.

Speaker 1 I left my shoes at the shore and stepped into the shallow water where minnows were swimming in tiny streams.

Speaker 1 The water was cool from the rain overnight,

Speaker 1 and clear, straight to the bottom.

Speaker 1 With slow, wobbly movements,

Speaker 1 I inched my way into the seat well,

Speaker 1 and used the oars to push from the land.

Speaker 1 My back was turned to the center of the lake,

Speaker 1 where the mist was still floating, though beginning to fade

Speaker 1 in the increasing sunlight.

Speaker 1 And as I pulled on the oars, I watched the inn and the people on the porch shrinking away.

Speaker 1 Sound on water echoes.

Speaker 1 So many times as a kid on the shore,

Speaker 1 I'd heard early morning boaters conversing from the other side of the lake,

Speaker 1 as if I'd been on board with them.

Speaker 1 And as I made my way into the mist,

Speaker 1 I pulled in my oars

Speaker 1 and opened my ears.

Speaker 1 I listened for the water lapping against the side of the boat,

Speaker 1 for the call of water birds overhead,

Speaker 1 and for insects buzzing in the air, or skittering across the lake's surface.

Speaker 1 Though I had headed for the thickest pockets of fog, as soon as I entered one,

Speaker 1 it seemed to disappear,

Speaker 1 to shift around me,

Speaker 1 while I couldn't seem to sit right in the cloud

Speaker 1 I could see it circled far out around me.

Speaker 1 I stayed, not rowing,

Speaker 1 just letting the boat turn and drift as she would.

Speaker 1 I watched the sun come out in full, and the last bit of mist dissolve in the warm light.

Speaker 1 I looked to shore,

Speaker 1 saw guests at the inn,

Speaker 1 with towels slung over their shoulders, coming down to the beach.

Speaker 1 I thought of my shoes and the coffee mug in the grass,

Speaker 1 and decided it was time to take the sycamore sycamore back in

Speaker 1 and see if the innkeeper was up for a game of badminton.

Speaker 1 The lake at the inn

Speaker 1 Mist was thick in the trees.

Speaker 1 It shifted slowly through the backyard,

Speaker 1 clinging to the towels

Speaker 1 I'd forgotten on the clothes line the night before.

Speaker 1 It made the air thick

Speaker 1 and sweet smelling,

Speaker 1 like deep woods,

Speaker 1 like when you're so far into the forest

Speaker 1 that there isn't a bit

Speaker 1 of man made

Speaker 1 anything

Speaker 1 anywhere around,

Speaker 1 and you breathe in the layered scents of fallen trees

Speaker 1 and grasses

Speaker 1 and hidden pools of water.

Speaker 1 Watching the mist recede through the hedges

Speaker 1 made me want to chase it.

Speaker 1 I thought suddenly of the lake at the end of the lane,

Speaker 1 wondering if the fog was still thick on the surface.

Speaker 1 I was tying the laces on my sneakers a few moments later,

Speaker 1 and pulling the screen door closed behind me.

Speaker 1 Eager as a child,

Speaker 1 I raced down the drive and on to the dirt road.

Speaker 1 I liked the way the gravel and grit

Speaker 1 crunched under my soles,

Speaker 1 and whenever I found a larger stone in my path,

Speaker 1 I kicked it forward,

Speaker 1 skidding it along the surface,

Speaker 1 hopping it over the puddles in wheel ruts.

Speaker 1 It must have rained overnight.

Speaker 1 I'd slept through it all,

Speaker 1 with the bedroom windows cracked open a few inches,

Speaker 1 and the ceiling fan turning in lazy circles.

Speaker 1 Now

Speaker 1 the grass in the fields,

Speaker 1 the growing stalks of corn and beans,

Speaker 1 and the caged tomato plants on the front porches of my neighbors

Speaker 1 were all dripping wet.

Speaker 1 And I thought of how good it feels

Speaker 1 to have a long drink of water

Speaker 1 when your throat is dry.

Speaker 1 and I found myself being happy for the plants,

Speaker 1 happy for the blades of grass

Speaker 1 and flowering fruits.

Speaker 1 It doesn't take much

Speaker 1 to celebrate someone else's good fortune.

Speaker 1 Just a moment's awareness outside of yourself

Speaker 1 and a recollection that we're all connected.

Speaker 1 At the end of the lane,

Speaker 1 I followed a grass path

Speaker 1 down toward the lake.

Speaker 1 The fog was still sitting on top of the water,

Speaker 1 and though the lake wasn't that big,

Speaker 1 I couldn't quite make out the shore on the other side.

Speaker 1 The sun was just starting to burn through the cloudy haze,

Speaker 1 and I had a sudden urge to get closer to the mist

Speaker 1 before it was gone.

Speaker 1 I wanted to float right through the center of it

Speaker 1 as if I were being

Speaker 1 borne along

Speaker 1 inside a cloud.

Speaker 1 I needed a boat.

Speaker 1 I smiled,

Speaker 1 thinking of where I could get one

Speaker 1 Just across a stretch of bare grasses and scrub

Speaker 1 was the neatly trimmed lawn of the inn.

Speaker 1 I would go see the innkeeper.

Speaker 1 We were childhood friends.

Speaker 1 We'd ridden the bus back and forth to school together each day,

Speaker 1 and spent summer mornings with badminton rackets

Speaker 1 down by the lake,

Speaker 1 hitting the birdie back and forth between us.

Speaker 1 Once,

Speaker 1 dressed in our Halloween costumes,

Speaker 1 we'd snuck away from the party on the main floor of the inn

Speaker 1 to creep up into the attic

Speaker 1 with shaky flashlights,

Speaker 1 jumping out from behind old trunks and armchairs draped in sheets to scare one another.

Speaker 1 We'd shrieked and laughed

Speaker 1 and shrieked some more

Speaker 1 until we'd thoroughly spooked ourselves

Speaker 1 and run down the attic stairs into the light of the hall,

Speaker 1 not stopping until we got to the library,

Speaker 1 where we could soothe our jangled nerves with candy apples

Speaker 1 and pretend

Speaker 1 we'd never really been scared at all.

Speaker 1 I saw her,

Speaker 1 the innkeeper,

Speaker 1 on the back porch of the inn.

Speaker 1 She had a carafe of coffee in her hand

Speaker 1 and was chatting with a guest whose table was spread with breakfast dishes.

Speaker 1 When she looked up at me, she winked

Speaker 1 and turned toward the steps.

Speaker 1 She stopped at a table stacked with clean plates and mugs and rolls of silverware.

Speaker 1 She flipped over one of the mugs

Speaker 1 and filled it with the hot coffee.

Speaker 1 She set the carafe down

Speaker 1 and carried the mug down the steps and across the lawn

Speaker 1 to meet me,

Speaker 1 where I was leaning one shoulder against the boathouse.

Speaker 1 I reached out for the coffee

Speaker 1 and wrapped my hands around the thick ceramic mug.

Speaker 1 It had the name and the logo of the the inn,

Speaker 1 printed in faded dark blue.

Speaker 1 It had the name and logo of the inn

Speaker 1 printed in faded dark blue.

Speaker 1 And I thought that probably

Speaker 1 everyone in our village

Speaker 1 had at least one of these mugs in their cupboard.

Speaker 1 They gave them away to guests,

Speaker 1 sold them in the little shop in the front office.

Speaker 1 But I doubted that was how most of us got our hands on them.

Speaker 1 More likely,

Speaker 1 it was just like this moment now.

Speaker 1 The innkeeper spotted you needing a cup of coffee

Speaker 1 and she handed one over

Speaker 1 and at some point

Speaker 1 you'd realize

Speaker 1 you'd come home with it.

Speaker 1 She turned toward the water,

Speaker 1 leaning her own back against the boathouse,

Speaker 1 and pointed to a bevy of swans at the edge of the water.

Speaker 1 The parents had long, regal necks,

Speaker 1 and sharp eyes that scanned back and forth

Speaker 1 as their grey, fluffy signets

Speaker 1 clumsily dunked and played in the lake.

Speaker 1 The innkeeper laughed, watching them,

Speaker 1 then asked,

Speaker 1 Did you want to take a rowboat out?

Speaker 1 Are you chasing the mist today?

Speaker 1 She always saw right through me.

Speaker 1 I nodded, smilingly behind my mug.

Speaker 1 If you've got one to spare,

Speaker 1 I said in my best la de da voice.

Speaker 1 She gestured to the half dozen or so boats pulled up on the shore

Speaker 1 and told me to take my pick.

Speaker 1 She bumped an elbow against mine

Speaker 1 and turned to get back to the breakfast crowd.

Speaker 1 I stood

Speaker 1 watching the swans,

Speaker 1 finishing my coffee,

Speaker 1 and breathing in the good smell of the lake for a moment.

Speaker 1 I set my mug in the grass beside the edge of the water,

Speaker 1 and picked my way carefully

Speaker 1 around the swans

Speaker 1 to the boats

Speaker 1 From the random facts file in my brain

Speaker 1 I retrieved the memory

Speaker 1 That male swans are called cobs

Speaker 1 and females called pens

Speaker 1 And wondered who had come up with such words,

Speaker 1 and then who had gone along with it.

Speaker 1 The rowboats were old,

Speaker 1 the varnished woods smelling sweet and dusty, even in the open air,

Speaker 1 and each with the name of a tree stenciled on its bow.

Speaker 1 I'd been out on all of them in my time

Speaker 1 the horn beam,

Speaker 1 the catalpa,

Speaker 1 the paw paw, the hawthorn

Speaker 1 but my favourite, and the last one in the row at the water

Speaker 1 was the sycamore.

Speaker 1 I left my shoes at the shore,

Speaker 1 and stepped into the shallow water,

Speaker 1 Where minnows were swimming in tiny streams.

Speaker 1 The water was cool from the rain overnight

Speaker 1 and clear straight to the bottom.

Speaker 1 With slow, wobbly movements

Speaker 1 I inched my way into the seat well

Speaker 1 and used the oars to push back from the land.

Speaker 1 My back was turned to the center of the lake,

Speaker 1 where the mist was still floating,

Speaker 1 though beginning to fade

Speaker 1 in the increasing sunlight.

Speaker 1 And as I pulled on the oars,

Speaker 1 I watched the inn

Speaker 1 and the people on the porch shrinking away.

Speaker 1 Sound on water echoes.

Speaker 1 So many times as a kid on the shore,

Speaker 1 I'd heard early morning boaters conversing from the other side of the lake,

Speaker 1 as if I'd been on board with them.

Speaker 1 And as I made my way into the mist,

Speaker 1 I pulled in my oars

Speaker 1 and opened my ears.

Speaker 1 I listened for the water lapping against the side of the boat,

Speaker 1 for the call of water birds overhead,

Speaker 1 and for insects buzzing in the air,

Speaker 1 or skittering across the lake's surface.

Speaker 1 Though I had headed for the thickest pockets of fog,

Speaker 1 as soon as I entered one,

Speaker 1 it seemed to disappear,

Speaker 1 to shift around me

Speaker 1 And while I couldn't seem to sit right in the cloud,

Speaker 1 I could see it circled

Speaker 1 on all sides.

Speaker 1 I stayed,

Speaker 1 not rowing,

Speaker 1 just letting the boat turn and drift as she would.

Speaker 1 I watched the sun come out in full

Speaker 1 and the last bit of mist dissolve in the warm light.

Speaker 1 I looked to shore,

Speaker 1 saw guests at the inn

Speaker 1 with towels slung over their shoulders,

Speaker 1 coming down to the beach.

Speaker 1 I thought of my shoes and the coffee mug in the grass,

Speaker 1 and decided it was time to take the sycamore back in

Speaker 1 and see if the innkeeper

Speaker 1 was up for a game of badminton.

Speaker 1 Sweet dreams.