The Porch Steps (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 We've got a few treasures left in our Wind Down collection. and we're sending them off with love and a deep discount.
Both the weighted pillow and our wind-down box are now 50% off.

Speaker 1 Think of it as the perfect way to set up your autumn bedtime routine. Go to nothingmuchhappens.com.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 falling asleep becomes so much easier when you have a place to rest your mind.

Speaker 1 And if that place can be comforting and enjoyable,

Speaker 1 well, good sleep hygiene is easy.

Speaker 1 So that's what I have for you.

Speaker 1 A place to put your restless mind where it will be engaged instead of wandering and you will sleep.

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

Speaker 1 If you wake later in the night, turn the story right back on,

Speaker 1 and you'll be asleep again within seconds.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight is called The Porch Steps

Speaker 1 and it's a story about tending to a satisfying chore on a cool day.

Speaker 1 It's also about acorns scattered on the sidewalk,

Speaker 1 the scent of a wood fire on a cool night,

Speaker 1 a daydream about the wind,

Speaker 1 and stepping back to take in a job well done.

Speaker 1 It's time.

Speaker 1 Snuggle down, my dears,

Speaker 1 and put away anything you've been looking at or working on.

Speaker 1 Get as comfortable as you can.

Speaker 1 Let it sink in that the day is done.

Speaker 1 You are in bed,

Speaker 1 safe and with nothing to do but sleep.

Speaker 1 I'll be a sort of guardian,

Speaker 1 watching over and protecting you with my voice.

Speaker 1 Draw a deep breath in through your nose

Speaker 1 and sigh from your mouth.

Speaker 1 again,

Speaker 1 all the way in,

Speaker 1 flush it out.

Speaker 1 Good

Speaker 1 the porch steps

Speaker 1 The leaves were turning,

Speaker 1 but had not yet begun to fall.

Speaker 1 Well, there were a few gathered around the fence posts

Speaker 1 and scattered over the lawn.

Speaker 1 But when I looked up,

Speaker 1 I saw thousands upon thousands

Speaker 1 still waving in the branches above.

Speaker 1 And there were plenty of trees that were resolutely green,

Speaker 1 their time

Speaker 1 having not yet come.

Speaker 1 I like that.

Speaker 1 When I look out on a line of trees

Speaker 1 and spot many that haven't begun to turn yet,

Speaker 1 it means there is still so much autumn beauty ahead.

Speaker 1 I even have my favorite spots,

Speaker 1 favorite trees that I go out of my way to visit every October.

Speaker 1 Their colors

Speaker 1 so spectacular

Speaker 1 that their locations are marked on the treasure map in my mind.

Speaker 1 My own street was lovely.

Speaker 1 Bright red maples,

Speaker 1 ruddy brown oaks,

Speaker 1 and yellow sycamores and aspens.

Speaker 1 Across the street was a still green hickory tree,

Speaker 1 with a Virginia creeper climbing its branches.

Speaker 1 The vine wove around the trunk, and up and around the boughs,

Speaker 1 and its leaves were already deep red.

Speaker 1 Together they gave the effect of a tree

Speaker 1 whose hair color needed some touching up

Speaker 1 a bushy green mop

Speaker 1 lined with ruby roots.

Speaker 1 I admired it from my front porch as I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel shirt.

Speaker 1 The day was cool and overcast,

Speaker 1 but with no rain predicted.

Speaker 1 A perfect day to take care of a chore I'd been meaning to get to for a while now.

Speaker 1 My front steps needed a fresh coat of paint,

Speaker 1 and in the cool autumn air,

Speaker 1 without a hint of humidity,

Speaker 1 the paint would dry quickly,

Speaker 1 and my pumpkins could be back in place before sundown.

Speaker 1 I started by sweeping my whole porch.

Speaker 1 I didn't want random bits of mulch and helicopter seeds blowing into my paint job.

Speaker 1 So I took my broom

Speaker 1 and started in the far corner.

Speaker 1 I swept under the porch swing,

Speaker 1 stopping to pick up the rug

Speaker 1 and shaking it out over the railing.

Speaker 1 I watched as a few twigs and blades of grass caught in the wind.

Speaker 1 They drifted, making the breeze suddenly visible.

Speaker 1 And I daydreamed for a moment

Speaker 1 about what it might look like

Speaker 1 if every flurry of air and zephyr

Speaker 1 were

Speaker 1 a color,

Speaker 1 each a different color.

Speaker 1 If we could watch them swirl and blend and blow.

Speaker 1 I wondered what a blizzard might look like

Speaker 1 if the bluster itself

Speaker 1 were deep blue or sparkling silver.

Speaker 1 I thought I might pick up my watercolours later

Speaker 1 and try to bring it to life.

Speaker 1 I left the rug hanging and went back to sweeping.

Speaker 1 I worked up a pile,

Speaker 1 being sure to dig into the cracks between the floorboards

Speaker 1 and to skim the cobwebs from under the bottom railing.

Speaker 1 Then I swept the dust and debris down the steps themselves

Speaker 1 and kept brushing away

Speaker 1 until the boards were bare and clean.

Speaker 1 I swept down the front walk,

Speaker 1 gathering a few leaves as I went,

Speaker 1 until I could push my little pile

Speaker 1 into the street.

Speaker 1 In this neighborhood, big trucks came by every couple of weeks

Speaker 1 and picked up leaves.

Speaker 1 My neighbor's young daughter was thrilled by the trucks,

Speaker 1 and she and her dad

Speaker 1 would stand out in the yard,

Speaker 1 watching

Speaker 1 as the leaves were sucked up by a giant hose,

Speaker 1 the little girl shrieking

Speaker 1 and clapping.

Speaker 1 It was convenient

Speaker 1 and for her quite entertaining.

Speaker 1 But I had grown up in a farmhouse at the end of a gravel road

Speaker 1 and missed the smell of burning leaves that had been raked into a ditch.

Speaker 1 With the city pickup,

Speaker 1 it was better.

Speaker 1 The leaves would be mulched,

Speaker 1 and in the spring,

Speaker 1 anyone could go to the lot out by the train depot

Speaker 1 and take home some of the mulch.

Speaker 1 Still,

Speaker 1 I thought I might have a fire in the fireplace tonight

Speaker 1 with the good seasoned apple wood I had in the garage

Speaker 1 and then come out here and sit on the porch in the cold night air

Speaker 1 and smell the mix of smoke and autumn spice

Speaker 1 back at the porch

Speaker 1 I readied my paintbrush

Speaker 1 taking it out of its sleeve

Speaker 1 and fanning the bristles against my fingers.

Speaker 1 Why does that feel so good?

Speaker 1 I brushed it over my palm,

Speaker 1 feeling the flat, even tips of the lined-up filaments.

Speaker 1 Then tucked the brush into my back pocket

Speaker 1 and squatted down down to open the paint can.

Speaker 1 When I was a kid

Speaker 1 and we were starting a new painting project,

Speaker 1 I always tagged along to the hardware store.

Speaker 1 I liked to watch the paint be made up.

Speaker 1 Now,

Speaker 1 I think it's all done by a computer.

Speaker 1 But back then there was a system which,

Speaker 1 while it was likely less exact and the paint didn't always match perfectly,

Speaker 1 was much more interesting to watch.

Speaker 1 There were tall metal devices

Speaker 1 where the person behind the counter would line dials up to get the right amount of each pigment

Speaker 1 and then press a lever to release it all into the can.

Speaker 1 On the surface of the paint, you'd just see a dot of blue or red or yellow floating in the thicker white

Speaker 1 and think,

Speaker 1 well, that'll never be the color we picked.

Speaker 1 But after it had gone into the shaker and come out again,

Speaker 1 some would be spread out onto the sample card and show that,

Speaker 1 sure enough, the peachy pink was peachy pink.

Speaker 1 I smiled, remembering those days as I wedged a paint can opener

Speaker 1 into the seam of the lid and pried it open.

Speaker 1 The porch was a deep, dark blue,

Speaker 1 and the steps would match.

Speaker 1 The color reminded me of the sky, just at gloaming,

Speaker 1 or a lake on a cloudy day.

Speaker 1 I found it a homey,

Speaker 1 welcoming color.

Speaker 1 And whenever I turned onto my street

Speaker 1 and spotted my porch, framed with birch trees and hydrangeas,

Speaker 1 I always felt so happy to be home.

Speaker 1 I decided to paint from top to bottom,

Speaker 1 thinking I could spend some time

Speaker 1 tidying up the garage while waiting for it to dry.

Speaker 1 I sat myself down on a lower step

Speaker 1 and dipped my brush in the deep navy paint.

Speaker 1 It was satisfying work

Speaker 1 to watch the color soak up into the wood,

Speaker 1 to spread it cleanly and evenly into place.

Speaker 1 Step by step,

Speaker 1 I worked my way down to the front walk.

Speaker 1 And when I finished, I balanced the brush across the mouth of the can

Speaker 1 and stepped back to take in my progress.

Speaker 1 The top step was already a bit lighter.

Speaker 1 The paint was drying quickly

Speaker 1 and would need a second coat.

Speaker 1 Till then, I'd fiddle around in the garage and back gardens.

Speaker 1 Acorns were falling on the sidewalk,

Speaker 1 and my neighbor and his daughter

Speaker 1 were adding to the fairy garden around the roots of the cottonwood in their yard.

Speaker 1 At the corner, a cat was stretched out on a garden bench.

Speaker 1 And in downtown, orange twinkle lights were being strung around the lamp posts.

Speaker 1 Across the village,

Speaker 1 folks were welcoming the fall.

Speaker 1 The porch steps.

Speaker 1 The leaves were turning,

Speaker 1 but had not yet begun to fall.

Speaker 1 Well,

Speaker 1 there were a few

Speaker 1 gathered around the fence posts

Speaker 1 and scattered over the lawn.

Speaker 1 But when I looked up,

Speaker 1 I saw thousands upon thousands

Speaker 1 still waving in the branches above.

Speaker 1 And there were plenty of trees that were resolutely green,

Speaker 1 their time having not yet come.

Speaker 1 I like that.

Speaker 1 When I look out on a line of trees

Speaker 1 and spot many

Speaker 1 that

Speaker 1 haven't begun to turn yet,

Speaker 1 it means there is still

Speaker 1 so much autumn beauty ahead.

Speaker 1 I even have my favorite spots,

Speaker 1 favorite trees

Speaker 1 that I go out of my way to visit every October.

Speaker 1 Their colors

Speaker 1 so spectacular

Speaker 1 that their locations are marked

Speaker 1 on the treasure map in my mind.

Speaker 1 My own street was lovely.

Speaker 1 Bright red maples,

Speaker 1 ruddy brown oaks, and yellow sycamores and aspens.

Speaker 1 Across the street was a still green hickory tree,

Speaker 1 with a Virginia creeper climbing its branches.

Speaker 1 The vine wove around the trunk, and up and around boughs,

Speaker 1 and its leaves were

Speaker 1 already deep red.

Speaker 1 Together they gave the effect of a tree whose hair color needed some touching up,

Speaker 1 a bushy green mop

Speaker 1 lined with ruby roots.

Speaker 1 I admired it from my front porch

Speaker 1 as I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel shirt.

Speaker 1 The day was cool

Speaker 1 and overcast,

Speaker 1 but with no rain predicted.

Speaker 1 A perfect day to take care of a chore I'd been meaning to get to

Speaker 1 for a while now.

Speaker 1 My front porch steps needed a fresh coat of paint,

Speaker 1 and in the cool autumn air,

Speaker 1 without a hint of humidity,

Speaker 1 the paint would dry quickly,

Speaker 1 and my pumpkins could be back in place

Speaker 1 before sundown.

Speaker 1 I started by sweeping my my whole porch.

Speaker 1 I didn't want random bits of mulch and helicopter seeds blowing into my paint job.

Speaker 1 So I took my broom

Speaker 1 and started in the far corner.

Speaker 1 I swept under the porch swing,

Speaker 1 stopping to pick up the rug

Speaker 1 and shaking it out over the railing.

Speaker 1 I watched a few twigs

Speaker 1 and blades of grass be caught in the wind.

Speaker 1 They drifted,

Speaker 1 making the breeze suddenly visible.

Speaker 1 And I daydreamed for a moment

Speaker 1 about what it might look like

Speaker 1 if every flurry of air and zephyr were a color,

Speaker 1 each a different color.

Speaker 1 If we could watch them swirl and blend and blow.

Speaker 1 I wondered at

Speaker 1 what a blizzard might look like

Speaker 1 if the bluster itself were deep blue or sparkling silver.

Speaker 1 I thought I might pick up my watercolours later

Speaker 1 and try to bring it to life.

Speaker 1 I left the rug hanging and went back to sweeping.

Speaker 1 I worked up a pile,

Speaker 1 being sure to dig into the cracks between the floorboards

Speaker 1 and to skim the cobwebs from under the bottom railing.

Speaker 1 Then

Speaker 1 I swept the dust and debris down the steps themselves

Speaker 1 and kept brushing away

Speaker 1 until the boards were bare and clean.

Speaker 1 I swept down the front walk,

Speaker 1 gathering a few leaves as I went,

Speaker 1 until I could push my little pile into the street.

Speaker 1 In this neighborhood,

Speaker 1 big trucks came by every couple of weeks

Speaker 1 and picked up the leaves.

Speaker 1 My neighbor's daughter

Speaker 1 was thrilled by the trucks,

Speaker 1 and she and her dad

Speaker 1 would stand out in the yard,

Speaker 1 watching as the leaves were sucked up by a giant hose,

Speaker 1 the little girl shrieking

Speaker 1 and clapping.

Speaker 1 It was convenient, and for her quite entertaining.

Speaker 1 But I had grown up in a farmhouse

Speaker 1 at the end of a gravel road

Speaker 1 and missed the smell of burning leaves that had been raked into a ditch.

Speaker 1 With the city pickup,

Speaker 1 it was better.

Speaker 1 The leaves would be mulched,

Speaker 1 and in the spring,

Speaker 1 anyone could go to the lot

Speaker 1 out by the train depot

Speaker 1 and take home some of the mulch.

Speaker 1 Still,

Speaker 1 I thought I might have a fire in the fireplace tonight

Speaker 1 with the good seasoned apple wood I had in the garage,

Speaker 1 and then come out here

Speaker 1 and sit on the porch

Speaker 1 in the cold night air

Speaker 1 and smell the mix of smoke

Speaker 1 and autumn spice.

Speaker 1 Back at the porch steps,

Speaker 1 I readied my paintbrush,

Speaker 1 taking it out of its sleeve and fanning the bristles against my fingers.

Speaker 1 Why does that feel

Speaker 1 so good?

Speaker 1 I brushed it over my palm,

Speaker 1 feeling the flat, even tips of the lined-up filaments,

Speaker 1 then tucked the brush into my back pocket

Speaker 1 and squatted down to open the paint can.

Speaker 1 When I was a kid

Speaker 1 and we were starting a new painting project,

Speaker 1 I always tagged along to the hardware store.

Speaker 1 I liked to watch the paint be made up.

Speaker 1 Now I think

Speaker 1 it's all done by a computer.

Speaker 1 But back then, there was a system

Speaker 1 which,

Speaker 1 while it was likely less exact

Speaker 1 and the paint

Speaker 1 always match perfectly,

Speaker 1 it was much more interesting to watch.

Speaker 1 There were tall metal devices

Speaker 1 where the person behind the counter

Speaker 1 would line dials up

Speaker 1 to get the right amount of each pigment

Speaker 1 and then press a lever to release it all into the can.

Speaker 1 On the surface of the paint,

Speaker 1 you'd just see a dot of blue or red or yellow

Speaker 1 floating in the thick white and think,

Speaker 1 well, that will never be the color we picked.

Speaker 1 But after it had gone into the shaker

Speaker 1 and come out again,

Speaker 1 Some would be spread out onto the sample card

Speaker 1 and show that,

Speaker 1 sure enough,

Speaker 1 the peachy pink was

Speaker 1 peachy pink.

Speaker 1 I smiled, remembering those days

Speaker 1 as I wedged a paint can opener into the seam of the lid

Speaker 1 and pried it open.

Speaker 1 The porch was a deep, dark blue,

Speaker 1 and the steps would match.

Speaker 1 The color reminded me of the sky just at gloaming,

Speaker 1 or a lake on a cloudy day.

Speaker 1 I found it a homey, welcoming color.

Speaker 1 And whenever I turned onto my street

Speaker 1 and spotted my porch

Speaker 1 framed with birch trees and hydrangeas,

Speaker 1 I always felt so happy to be home.

Speaker 1 I decided to paint from top to bottom,

Speaker 1 thinking I could spend some time

Speaker 1 tidying up the garage while waiting for it to dry.

Speaker 1 I sat myself down on a lower step

Speaker 1 and dipped my brush in the deep navy paint.

Speaker 1 It was satisfying work

Speaker 1 to watch the color soak up into the wood,

Speaker 1 to spread it evenly and cleanly into place.

Speaker 1 Step by step,

Speaker 1 I worked my way down to the front walk,

Speaker 1 and when I finished, I balanced the brush across the mouth of the can

Speaker 1 and stepped back

Speaker 1 to take in my progress.

Speaker 1 The top step was already a bit lighter.

Speaker 1 The paint was drying quickly and would need a second coat.

Speaker 1 Till then,

Speaker 1 I'd fiddle around in the garage and back garden.

Speaker 1 Acorns were falling on the sidewalk,

Speaker 1 and my neighbor and his daughter were adding to the fairy garden

Speaker 1 around the roots of the cottonwood in their yard.

Speaker 1 At the corner, a cat was stretched out on a garden bench,

Speaker 1 and in downtown, orange twinkle lights

Speaker 1 were being strung around the lamp posts.

Speaker 1 Across the village, folks were welcoming the fall.

Speaker 1 Sweet dreams.