Dandelions and Moss

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Speaker 1 Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone,

Speaker 1 in which 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 all the stories you'll 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 Upper Michigan Brain Tumor Center, working to empower patients and families through advocacy, education, treatment, and research.

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

Speaker 1 Remember that you can have a completely ad-free Nothing Much experience for just 10 cents a day and sleep easy knowing that you are helping us to continue to bring you new episodes on a weekly basis.

Speaker 1 Find the link in our notes or just go to nothingmuchhappens.com.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 I have a story to tell you.

Speaker 1 It was written with care.

Speaker 1 It'll be read with calm and steadiness.

Speaker 1 And just by listening, we will shift your brain from its default mode to its task positive mode,

Speaker 1 where sleep is much more accessible.

Speaker 1 With practice, it will become practically instant.

Speaker 1 Sleep can be something you rely on and no longer worry over.

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

Speaker 1 If you wake again in the night, you can think through any part of the story that you remember, or just push play on another episode.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight is called Dandelions and Moss.

Speaker 1 And it's a story about a craft project made from things gathered in the yard. It's also about wishes and wire,

Speaker 1 memories of schoolyard games, making something with your hands at the picnic table in the afternoon sun, and the magic of a moment preserved under glass.

Speaker 1 If you'd like to try the craft craft in this story for yourself, I've put a link to the lovely video and maker that inspired it in our notes.

Speaker 1 Okay,

Speaker 1 it's time.

Speaker 1 Slide down into your sheets and get as comfortable as you can.

Speaker 1 There is nothing left to do today.

Speaker 1 You did enough.

Speaker 1 Feel your body

Speaker 1 getting heavy,

Speaker 1 your eyes relaxing

Speaker 1 and closing.

Speaker 1 Feel calm settle over you.

Speaker 1 Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose

Speaker 1 and release through your mouth

Speaker 1 one more time, nice and deep.

Speaker 1 Let it all out.

Speaker 1 Good.

Speaker 1 Dandelions and moss.

Speaker 1 The backyard was dotted with yellow-headed flowers sitting among the green blades.

Speaker 1 I'd never bought into the idea

Speaker 1 that they were weeds.

Speaker 1 I remembered picking handfuls of them when I was a child

Speaker 1 and proudly handing them over to a grown-up,

Speaker 1 thinking they might go in a vase

Speaker 1 and on to the kitchen table,

Speaker 1 only to see them dropped onto the compost pile.

Speaker 1 I'd felt a bit bad for the grown ups then.

Speaker 1 How did they not see that something with a stem

Speaker 1 and pretty petals was clearly a flower,

Speaker 1 not a weed

Speaker 1 and they were like a magic flower

Speaker 1 that could overnight turn into a snowball,

Speaker 1 an orb of fluff to make a wish on.

Speaker 1 Even now, as a grown-up,

Speaker 1 I admired dandelions

Speaker 1 and left them to bloom in my yard

Speaker 1 to feed the pollinators, as they were the first meal many ate after their winter naps.

Speaker 1 Today I would, yes, be plucking a few from the ground,

Speaker 1 but truly just a few

Speaker 1 and they wouldn't end up in the compost bin.

Speaker 1 They would be preserved.

Speaker 1 Their fluff seen as the work of art that it was.

Speaker 1 I'd read about a craft project

Speaker 1 in one of my magazines,

Speaker 1 and it was calling my my name today.

Speaker 1 A simple undertaking that only required a few supplies

Speaker 1 I already happened to have.

Speaker 1 I'd read the article in the magazine several times,

Speaker 1 pressing down on the crease between the pages

Speaker 1 to get a good look at the pictures that went along with it.

Speaker 1 And now

Speaker 1 it

Speaker 1 and my supplies

Speaker 1 sat on my picnic table waiting for the star ingredient.

Speaker 1 The article suggested waiting till the afternoon to pick my dandelions

Speaker 1 to let the sun dry them out as much as possible.

Speaker 1 And now the sun was behind the trees in the west,

Speaker 1 and the dew had long evaporated from the yard.

Speaker 1 I was looking for two or three dandelions

Speaker 1 that were still closed up and green,

Speaker 1 with just a smidge of white fluff poking through the end of their bud.

Speaker 1 As I walked slowly through the yard,

Speaker 1 I realized that dandelions

Speaker 1 were a bit like caterpillars.

Speaker 1 They had to go through some time, closed up,

Speaker 1 away from the world,

Speaker 1 to make their final transition.

Speaker 1 The flowers opened to show their yellow petals,

Speaker 1 but then closed again

Speaker 1 before they revealed their fluffy seeds ready to fly on the wind.

Speaker 1 It seemed obvious to me now,

Speaker 1 but I'd never considered it before

Speaker 1 how many grand moments were preceded by periods in the dark.

Speaker 1 In the sunniest sections of the yard,

Speaker 1 most of them had already shed their seeds,

Speaker 1 and in the shadier spots,

Speaker 1 several hadn't opened for the first time yet.

Speaker 1 But around the edges of the raised bed in the back,

Speaker 1 I found what I was looking for.

Speaker 1 I took time inspecting them to be sure,

Speaker 1 dry to the touch,

Speaker 1 closed and green on the outside of the bud,

Speaker 1 with a bit of white showing through at the tips.

Speaker 1 I'd meant to bring the kitchen scissors, but had forgotten.

Speaker 1 Still, the stems broke easily with a bit of pressure from my thumbnail.

Speaker 1 I picked two.

Speaker 1 While I was out there,

Speaker 1 I hunted for a couple of twigs.

Speaker 1 I wanted old, dried-out bits of bark, or woody sprigs that were coated with lichen or moss.

Speaker 1 I found several and soon became entranced.

Speaker 1 Twigs led me to noticing root systems

Speaker 1 around the old trees in the back corner along the fence.

Speaker 1 There were several kinds of moss growing around and on the roots,

Speaker 1 and more in the crooks of bark

Speaker 1 and on the fence itself.

Speaker 1 I carefully plucked some of it away from the wood,

Speaker 1 a few strands of moss that

Speaker 1 looked like tiny ferns,

Speaker 1 and some shaggy, waving-looking tufts tufts of what I thought might be rock-cap moss.

Speaker 1 I carried all my goodies

Speaker 1 over to the picnic table

Speaker 1 and laid them out on an old pale tablecloth.

Speaker 1 Besides the things I'd gathered from the yard,

Speaker 1 I had a few pieces of thin wire,

Speaker 1 a pair of pliers,

Speaker 1 and a small stand with a clear domed top.

Speaker 1 I started with the wire and the two dandelions.

Speaker 1 I measured out the wire to the length of each stem, plus a few inches,

Speaker 1 and began to carefully feed it up and through the flower stem.

Speaker 1 I had a sudden memory

Speaker 1 of picking dandelions in the schoolyard

Speaker 1 when I was in first or second grade.

Speaker 1 There was

Speaker 1 something about holding a dandelion under your chin.

Speaker 1 If the yellow glow reflected on your skin,

Speaker 1 it meant you liked butter.

Speaker 1 I laughed out loud, thinking of it.

Speaker 1 I had to stop working for a moment as my body shook.

Speaker 1 What had that been about?

Speaker 1 Who needed to diagnose their interest in butter in that way?

Speaker 1 A series of playground rituals came back to me.

Speaker 1 We made wishes on dandelion fluff,

Speaker 1 hunted for four-leaf clovers,

Speaker 1 found signs in the clouds,

Speaker 1 jumped over cracks in the sidewalk,

Speaker 1 and blew kisses at ladybugs,

Speaker 1 trying to figure out the world

Speaker 1 through the lore handed down by kids just a year or two older.

Speaker 1 While it didn't make sense,

Speaker 1 we hadn't needed it to.

Speaker 1 We were just playing at life.

Speaker 1 I still was,

Speaker 1 though in a quieter way.

Speaker 1 My flowers stood tall,

Speaker 1 with the wire threaded through them,

Speaker 1 and I wound the ends of it around a sturdy twig.

Speaker 1 I set the twig and flowers on the small stand

Speaker 1 and laid in a few bits of the moss I'd gathered.

Speaker 1 The stand had come from a special cupcake a friend had brought me on my birthday,

Speaker 1 a small single cake on a stand with a clear dome over it.

Speaker 1 It had felt very fancy indeed.

Speaker 1 So I'd kept these pieces

Speaker 1 after the treat was gone, and this was the perfect use for them.

Speaker 1 I slid the dome over my little craft

Speaker 1 and pressed it into place with a click.

Speaker 1 In a day or two

Speaker 1 these flowers would open up,

Speaker 1 and that moment would be preserved.

Speaker 1 The perfect downy blooms

Speaker 1 would last for years,

Speaker 1 like a seed caught in a drop of amber,

Speaker 1 like the memory of those schoolyard games,

Speaker 1 pressed between the pages of a book,

Speaker 1 faded a bit around the edges,

Speaker 1 but still holding their shape,

Speaker 1 dandelions

Speaker 1 and moss.

Speaker 1 The backyard was dotted with yellow-headed flowers

Speaker 1 sitting among the green blades.

Speaker 1 I'd never bought into the idea

Speaker 1 that they were weeds.

Speaker 1 I remembered picking handfuls of them when I was a child

Speaker 1 and proudly handing them over to a grown-up,

Speaker 1 expecting they might go into a vase

Speaker 1 and onto the kitchen table,

Speaker 1 only to see them dropped

Speaker 1 onto the compost pile.

Speaker 1 I'd felt a bit bad for the grown-ups then.

Speaker 1 How did they not see

Speaker 1 that something with a stem

Speaker 1 and pretty petals

Speaker 1 was clearly a flower,

Speaker 1 not a weed.

Speaker 1 And they were like a magic flower

Speaker 1 that could, overnight,

Speaker 1 turn into a snowball,

Speaker 1 an orb of fluff

Speaker 1 to make a wish on.

Speaker 1 Even now, as a grown-up,

Speaker 1 I admired dandelions

Speaker 1 and left them to bloom in my yard,

Speaker 1 to feed the pollinators,

Speaker 1 as they were the first meal many ate

Speaker 1 after their winter naps.

Speaker 1 Today,

Speaker 1 I would,

Speaker 1 yes, be plucking a few from the ground,

Speaker 1 but truly just a few

Speaker 1 and they wouldn't end up in the compost.

Speaker 1 They would be preserved,

Speaker 1 their fluff seen as the work of art that it was.

Speaker 1 I'd read about a craft project

Speaker 1 in one of my magazines,

Speaker 1 and it was calling my name to day

Speaker 1 a simple undertaking

Speaker 1 that only required a few supplies

Speaker 1 I happened to already have.

Speaker 1 I'd read the article in the magazine several times,

Speaker 1 pressing down on the crease

Speaker 1 between the pages

Speaker 1 to get a good look at the pictures pictures that went along with it.

Speaker 1 And now

Speaker 1 it

Speaker 1 and my supplies

Speaker 1 sat on my picnic table,

Speaker 1 waiting for the star ingredient.

Speaker 1 The article suggested waiting till the afternoon

Speaker 1 to pick my dandelions,

Speaker 1 to let the sun dry them out as much as possible.

Speaker 1 And now the sun was behind the trees in the west,

Speaker 1 and the dew

Speaker 1 had long evaporated from the yard.

Speaker 1 I was looking for two

Speaker 1 or three dandelions

Speaker 1 that were still closed up and green,

Speaker 1 with just a smidge of white fluff

Speaker 1 poking through the end of their bud.

Speaker 1 As I walked slowly through the yard,

Speaker 1 I realized that dandelions

Speaker 1 were a bit like caterpillars.

Speaker 1 They had to go through some time, closed up,

Speaker 1 away from the world,

Speaker 1 to make their final transition.

Speaker 1 The flowers opened to show their yellow petals,

Speaker 1 but then closed again

Speaker 1 before they revealed

Speaker 1 fluffy seeds

Speaker 1 ready to fly on the wind

Speaker 1 It seemed obvious to me now

Speaker 1 But I'd never considered it before

Speaker 1 How many grand moments

Speaker 1 were preceded

Speaker 1 by periods in the dark

Speaker 1 In the sunniest sections of the yard,

Speaker 1 most of them had already shed their seeds,

Speaker 1 and in the shadier spots,

Speaker 1 several hadn't even opened

Speaker 1 for the first time yet.

Speaker 1 But around the edges of the raised bed in the back,

Speaker 1 I found what I was looking for.

Speaker 1 I took time inspecting them to be sure,

Speaker 1 dry to the touch,

Speaker 1 closed and green on the outside of the bud,

Speaker 1 with a bit of white showing through at the tips.

Speaker 1 I'd meant to bring the kitchen scissors,

Speaker 1 but had forgotten.

Speaker 1 Still, the stems broke easily

Speaker 1 with a bit of pressure from my thumbnail.

Speaker 1 I picked two

Speaker 1 while I was out there,

Speaker 1 I hunted for a couple of twigs.

Speaker 1 I wanted old,

Speaker 1 dried-out bits of bark

Speaker 1 or woody sprigs

Speaker 1 that were coated with lichen or moss.

Speaker 1 I found several

Speaker 1 and soon became entranced.

Speaker 1 Twigs led me to noticing root systems around the old trees

Speaker 1 in the back corner along the fence.

Speaker 1 There were several kinds of moss growing around

Speaker 1 and on the roots

Speaker 1 and more in the crooks of bark,

Speaker 1 and on the fence itself.

Speaker 1 I carefully plucked some of it away from the wood,

Speaker 1 a few strands of moss

Speaker 1 that looked like tiny ferns,

Speaker 1 and some shaggy, wavy-looking tufts

Speaker 1 of what I thought might be rock cap moss.

Speaker 1 I carried all of my goodies

Speaker 1 over to the picnic table

Speaker 1 and laid them out

Speaker 1 on an old pale tablecloth.

Speaker 1 Besides the things I'd gathered from the yard,

Speaker 1 I had a few pieces of thin wire,

Speaker 1 a pair of pliers,

Speaker 1 and a small stand

Speaker 1 with a clear dome top.

Speaker 1 I started with the wire

Speaker 1 and the two dandelions.

Speaker 1 I measured out the wire

Speaker 1 to the length of each stem,

Speaker 1 plus a few inches,

Speaker 1 and began to carefully feed it up

Speaker 1 and through the flower stem.

Speaker 1 I had a sudden memory

Speaker 1 of picking dandelions in the schoolyard

Speaker 1 when I was in first or second grade.

Speaker 1 there was some game about holding a dandelion

Speaker 1 under your chin.

Speaker 1 If the yellow glow reflected on your skin,

Speaker 1 it meant you liked butter.

Speaker 1 I laughed out loud,

Speaker 1 thinking of it.

Speaker 1 Had to stop working for a moment

Speaker 1 as my body shook.

Speaker 1 What had that been about?

Speaker 1 Who needed to diagnose their interest in butter in such a way?

Speaker 1 A series of playground rituals came back to me.

Speaker 1 We made wishes on dandelion fluff,

Speaker 1 hunted for four leaf clovers,

Speaker 1 found signs in the clouds,

Speaker 1 jumped over cracks in the sidewalk,

Speaker 1 and blew kisses at ladybugs,

Speaker 1 trying to figure out the world

Speaker 1 through the lore handed down

Speaker 1 by kids just a year or two older.

Speaker 1 While it didn't make sense,

Speaker 1 we hadn't needed it to.

Speaker 1 We were just playing at life,

Speaker 1 and I still was,

Speaker 1 though in a quieter way.

Speaker 1 My flowers stood tall

Speaker 1 with the wire threaded through them,

Speaker 1 and I wound the ends of it around a sturdy twig.

Speaker 1 I set the twig and flowers

Speaker 1 on the small stand

Speaker 1 and laid in a few bits of the moss I'd gathered.

Speaker 1 The stand had come from a special cupcake a friend had brought me on my birthday,

Speaker 1 a single small cake

Speaker 1 on a stand with a clear dome over it.

Speaker 1 It had felt very fancy indeed.

Speaker 1 So I'd kept these pieces after the treat was gone,

Speaker 1 and this was the perfect use for them.

Speaker 1 I slid the dome over my little craft

Speaker 1 and pressed it into place with a click.

Speaker 1 In a day or two,

Speaker 1 these flowers would open

Speaker 1 and that moment would be preserved.

Speaker 1 The perfect downy blooms

Speaker 1 would last for years

Speaker 1 like a seed caught in a drop of amber

Speaker 1 like the memory of those schoolyard games

Speaker 1 pressed between the pages of a book

Speaker 1 faded a bit

Speaker 1 around the edges

Speaker 1 But still holding their shape

Speaker 1 sweet dreams