Cloud Club

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Let's take a deep breath together.

In through the nose.

And out through the mouth.

It feels good to breathe deeply.

And the air we breathe, especially at night, matters more than we might think.

While we sleep, our bodies are hard at work, restoring, repairing, and recharging.

But that work can be quietly disrupted by what's floating in the air.

Things like dust, pollen, and other allergens.

I didn't used to think much about indoor air quality.

But once I did, I realized, if we care about what we eat and drink,

why not care just as much about what we breathe?

That's why I sleep with a Jasper air scrubber in my room.

It has no annoying lights and doubles as a gentle white noise machine that's become essential to my bedtime rhythm.

But more than anything, it's turned my bedroom into a sleep sanctuary.

A space where the air helps me sleep, deeply and peacefully.

I can't recommend Jasper enough.

You can learn more at jasper.co.

And if you use the code SLEAP, you'll get $300 off.

That's JASPR.co.

Use code SLEEP for $300 off.

Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone,

in which

nothing much happens.

You feel good

and then

you fall asleep.

I'm Catherine Nicolai.

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

Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

We give to a different charity each week.

And this week we are giving to Elephant Havens.

Their mission is to protect and preserve the African elephant through habitat protection, community outreach, and the rescue and hand rearing of young elephant orphans.

You can learn more about them in our show notes.

For an ad-free and bonus-filled experience, become a premium subscriber.

There's a link in our show notes, and Apple and Spotify users can just click the handy button right on the show page.

The first month's on us.

There is solid science behind how bedtime stories train you to be a better sleeper.

But it's probably enough just to know that they help you feel good, focus in a soft way,

and relax.

So just listen.

Unclench your jaw.

Let yourself be ready to sleep.

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

If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to turn a story back on

and you'll drop right back off.

Our story tonight is called Cloud Club.

And it's a story about an afternoon spent stretched out under the open sky.

It's also about the friends you've known since you were young.

A polka dotted blanket.

Memories of games played.

Strawberries and wax paper.

Mint

and quiet times in the soft summer air.

Okay,

lights out.

Snuggle down.

Let everything relax.

Know that you did enough today.

You did.

And now the world needs nothing from you but your rest.

Draw a deep breath in through your nose

and sigh from your mouth.

Nice, do it again, breathe in

and let it out with sound.

Good.

Cloud Club

I was laying out the blanket

when I stopped to look up

and noticed a cloud that reminded me of an elephant,

a rounded, giant shape

that must have stretched stories tall.

I watched as it seemed to unfurl its trunk,

which then broke away

and became something like a paintbrush

with a long tapered tip.

My eyes drifted to the horizon,

where the tops of trees filtered sunlight

and swayed with the breeze.

It was an excellent day for Cloud Club.

I'd forgotten about the blanket.

It hung limply from one hand.

I reached down to get a better grip on it,

then stood tall and flung it out in front of me.

I did it a few times,

noticing stray blades of dry grass from our last day out.

They bounced on the polka dotted cotton fabric as I tossed it,

And I remembered a game we used to play in kindergarten.

All of us kinder in a circle,

gripping a giant parachute,

while the teacher tossed balls and bean bags onto the fabric.

We bounced and shook it,

pretending they were popcorn kernels, popping in a giant pan.

My favorite part

came after all the popcorn had bounced away.

We'd raise the shoot overhead on a signal,

then turn in place

and tuck ourselves underneath,

pulling the edges down tight.

the fabric puffed into a dome

and slowly drifted down, covering us completely.

For those five or so seconds,

it felt like being in another world.

The light was colored, in my memory,

a bright orange

as it shone through the nylon.

The pressure of the air,

the sudden hush

as we watched it billow and fall,

made for a few magical moments in the middle of gym class.

I smiled at the gift of that memory

as I settled the blanket onto the grass,

especially since the other two members of Cloud Club

had stood on either side of me when we'd played that game.

That's how long we'd been friends.

I dropped down onto the blanket

and stretched out onto my stomach,

letting my feet slip out of my sandals.

I laid one cheek against the cotton

and closed my eyes.

I could feel the blades of grass underneath,

and with each deep breath,

I felt my belly press into the earth

and lift away on the exhale.

The air was thick with the scent of grass and trees,

not sweet like flowers,

but full of a vibrant chlorophyll smell

that radiated from everything growing nearby.

Whenever Cloud Club meets,

which is not as regularly as we'd like,

but as often as we're able.

There are three jobs,

three

duties, if you will, and we rotate through them each time.

The first duty, which fell to me today,

was Spot Finder.

We needed a place

to lay out a blanket and watch the clouds roll by.

It wasn't exactly a rule that the spot had to be new every time.

But we all enjoyed it more when it was.

We often met in the village park on the east side of downtown.

There were lots of good cloud-watching spots.

In the autumn, we'd head out to the orchards

where we could smell fresh apples while we reclined.

Once we'd borrowed my sister's apartment

just for the access to her rooftop,

though it turned out too hot,

and we gave up the clouds for ice cream after twenty minutes.

Another time

we tried the center of the cross country track

while the team was away at a meet.

That had been interesting,

but my favorite spots were always the ones furthest from buildings and people,

where the only sounds were bird song and cicadas.

Today we were in a quiet park mostly used by birders,

a few trails, some benches,

and a wide stretch of soft sloped land

ringed by trees.

The grass was lush

and there wasn't another blanket of friends in sight.

The other two cloud club roles were just as vital

snack provider and drink chooser.

Snacks ranged from chips and crackers,

hummus and crudetes,

to cookies and rice krispy squares.

And once during a chilly December meeting

that hadn't lasted long but still felt magical in the snow.

There was a tray of gingerbread.

We often drank iced tea

in a range of flavors,

or ginger ale,

chilled to the perfect temperature.

I wondered

what we were in for to day

as I rolled onto my back,

listening to the the dry rustle of the grass beneath me.

I tucked my hands behind my head,

crossed one ankle over the other,

and had just drawn a deep breath

when I heard one of my friends call out from the path

You better not be starting without us.

My exhale turned into a laugh.

I propped up on my elbows and saw the other two cloud club members making their way across the meadow.

I've barely looked at any clouds, I swear, I called back.

They smiled as they plopped their bags and themselves down beside me.

Good spot, said one.

Good spot, agreed the other.

I sat up, crisscross applesauce,

just like we learned in kindergarten,

and waited to be handed a snack and a drink.

What an absolute joy, I thought,

to have friends like these

people who know you well,

who you can be quiet

and unmasked with,

who feed you,

water you, enjoy life beside you,

and don't need much else beyond your company.

From a basket came the rustle of wax paper,

and I smelled strawberries.

Our snack provider had gone with a classic to day,

clearly tuned in to the kindergarten memories

that had been floating through my own head all day.

She handed me a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

soft bread,

cut on the diagonal,

wrapped in wax paper

with a napkin.

On the other corner of the blanket, and decidedly fancier,

drinks were being made

with tonic water, lemon slices, and fresh mint.

Once everything had been passed around

we raised our cups and tapped the rims together.

We would eat and sip and chat a bit

and stretch out with our heads together and bodies fanned outward

like a three-pointed star

to watch the clouds.

I might mention that there's a name for this hobby, nephology.

They kindly indulge my need

to drop fun facts into our outings.

Eventually, one of us might fall asleep,

and the afternoon would drift past

as we recharged together.

I know we see shapes and clouds

because our brains are built to search for patterns and meaning.

But we'd learned to let them

slide by,

liminal and unexplained.

We were content just to witness them.

Cloud Club

I was laying out the blanket

when I stopped to look up

and noticed a cloud

that reminded me

of an elephant,

a rounded,

giant shape

that must have stretched

stories tall.

I watched as it seemed to unfurl its trunk,

which then broke away

and became something

like a paint brush

with a long, tapered tip.

My eyes drifted to the horizon,

where the tops of trees filtered sunlight

and swayed with the breeze.

It was an excellent day

for Cloud Club.

I'd forgotten all about the blanket.

It hung limply from one hand.

I reached down to get a better grip on it,

then stood tall

and flung it out in front of me.

I did it a few times,

noticing stray blades of dry grass

from our last day out.

They bounced on the polka dotted cotton fabric

as I tossed it

And I remembered a game

we used to play

in kindergarten

All of us kinder

in a circle

Gripping a giant parachute

while the teacher tossed balls

and bean bags onto the fabric.

We bounced and shook it,

pretending they were popcorn kernels

popping in a giant pan.

My favorite part

came

after all the popcorn had bounced away.

We'd raise the chute

overhead on a signal,

then turn in place

to tuck ourselves underneath,

pulling the edges down tight.

The fabric puffed into a dome,

then slowly drifted down,

covering us completely.

And for those five or so seconds

it felt like being

in another world.

The light was colored

in my my memory

a bright orange

as it shone through the nylon.

The pressure of the air,

the sudden hush,

as we watched it billow and fall,

made for a few magical moments in the middle of gym class.

I smiled at the gift of that memory

as I settled the blanket

onto the grass,

especially since

the other two members of Cloud Club

had stood on either side of me

when we played that game.

That's how long

we'd been friends.

I dropped down onto the blanket

and stretched out

onto my stomach,

letting my feet slip out of my sandals.

I laid one cheek against the cotton and closed my eyes.

I could feel the blades of grass underneath,

and with each deep breath

felt my belly

press into the earth

and lift away on the exhale.

The air was thick with the scent of grass and trees,

not sweet like flowers,

but full of a vibrant chlorophyll smell

that radiated from everything growing nearby.

Whenever Cloud Club meets,

not as regularly as we'd like,

but as often as we're able.

There are three jobs,

three duties, if you will,

and we rotate through them each time.

The first duty,

which fell to me to day

was Spot Finder.

We needed a place to lay out a blanket

and watch the clouds roll by.

It wasn't exactly a rule

that the spot had to be somewhere new every time

but we all enjoyed it more when it was

we often met in the village park

on the east end

of downtown

there were lots of good cloud watching spots

and in the autumn

we'd head out to the orchards

where we could smell fresh apples

while we reclined.

Once we borrowed my sister's apartment

just for access to her rooftop,

though it turned out to be too hot,

and we gave up the clouds for ice cream after twenty minutes.

Another time, we tried the center of the cross-country track

while the team was away at a meet.

That had been interesting,

but my favorite spots were always the ones furthest from buildings and people,

where the only sounds were bird song and cicadas.

Today we were in a quiet park,

mostly used by birders,

a few trails,

some benches,

and a wide stretch of soft sloped land ringed by trees.

The grass was lush,

and there wasn't another blanket of friends in sight.

The other two cloud club roles

were just as vital as Spot Finder.

They were snack provider

and drink chooser.

Snacks ranged from chips and crackers,

hummus and crude detés,

to cookies

and rice krispy squares.

And once,

during a chilly December meeting that hadn't lasted long long,

but still felt magical in the snow.

There was a tray of gingerbread.

We most often drank iced tea in a range of flavors,

or ginger ale chilled to the perfect temperature.

I wondered what we were in for to day

as I rolled onto my back,

listening to the dry rustle

of the grass beneath me.

I tucked my hands behind my head,

crossed one ankle over the other,

and had just drawn a deep breath

when I heard one of my friends call out from the path

You better not be starting without us

My exhale turned into a laugh.

I propped up on my elbows

and saw the other two cloud club members

making their way across the meadow.

I've barely looked at any clouds, I swear, I called back.

They smiled as they plopped their bags

and themselves

down beside me.

Good spot, said one.

Good spot, agreed the other.

I sat up,

crisscross applesauce,

just like we learned in kindergarten,

and waited to be handed a snack and a drink.

What an absolute joy, I thought,

to have friends like these,

people who know you well,

who you can be quiet

and unmasked with,

who feed you, water you,

enjoy life beside you,

and don't need much else

beyond your company.

From a basket

came the rustle of wax paper,

and I smelled strawberries.

Our snack provider had gone with a classic today,

clearly tuned in to the kindergarten memories

that had been floating through my own head.

She handed me a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

soft bread

cut on the diagonal,

wrapped in wax paper and a napkin.

At the other corner of the blanket,

undecidedly fancier,

drinks were being made with tonic water,

lemon slices,

and fresh mint.

Once everything had been passed around,

we raised our cups

and tapped the rims together.

We would eat and sip and chat a bit,

then stretch out with our heads together and our bodies fanned outward

like a three-pointed star,

and watch the clouds.

I might mention that there's a name for this hobby,

nephology.

They kindly indulged my need

to drop fun facts

into our outings.

Eventually,

one of us might fall asleep,

and the afternoon would drift past

as we recharged together.

I know we see shapes in clouds

because our brains are built

to search for patterns and meaning,

But we'd learned to let them

just slide by,

liminal

and unexplained.

We were content

just to witness them.

Sweet dreams.