Bob Wittersheim

speaker

239 appearances 7 recordings 1 series first heard Dec 2024 last heard 17 Sep

Bob Wittersheim’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.

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Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep · Snow Day in the Village · 20 Jan 2025 podcast

Learn more at the link in our show notes.

In the village of Nothing Much, I'm sure they never have to worry about their tap water.

Now, lights out campers.

Snow day in the village. The storm had been as fierce and thorough as they'd predicted. For two days, the wind had blown. and a steady downfall of flakes had blanketed the village. Snow was heaped over sidewalks, blown into sloping mounds at doors, and standing in thick, unbroken swaths on park benches and bird baths. Today, while not yet sunny per se, was brighter.

and thought they looked a bit like the thready, woolly yarn of my scarf.

I leaned closer to the pane, my breath fogging up the glass. There hadn't been much entertainment in the last few days.

They'd gotten a new puppy a week or two ago. And their two sons, along with their grown retriever Clover, had been making the most of the days off.

Well, not walking him, really. It was too cold, and the pup too young for walks. But they romped in the snow with him, threw balls which disappeared into snowbanks, and kept the path from the door shoveled and clear.

And once my own sidewalk was shoveled, I'd sneak over to their house to visit. I smiled to myself, thinking about the wild puppy kisses I'd be gifted and the happy, excited energy of their household. I shuffled down the long hall, a sweater around my shoulders, and thick socks on my feet.

While the snow had finished falling, the temperature hadn't, and my old house had chilly, drafty spots that I dodged in the winter.

This time out to the street, where a few neighbors were beginning to dig out from the snow. One was standing, her hands on her hips, knee-deep in the stuff, with a discarded shovel tossed down beside her.

He taught history at the high school.

and went right back to focusing on the snow. The waving neighbor clapped her hands happily, reached for her discarded shovel, and began trudging back to her garage.

I picked up the phone and dialed the inn out on the lake.

And in fact, when she answered, she was a bit out of breath, but laughing and happy to hear from a friend. She confirmed that they had plenty of firewood,

They didn't have any guests right now.

Next, I called a friend who lived in an apartment in downtown.

He thought today would be the last day of his snowcation, that the roads and sidewalks would be clear tomorrow, and that the rest had been lovely, but he was excited to make bagels in the morning. Finally, I called a friend who lived in an old farmhouse in the countryside out of town.

She said she'd been out to feed the birds and that the forest was full of their calls and songs. when we hung up and I began to bundle into my boots and coat to go next door.

that all of it wove together and warmed me like a quilt on this icy winter day. Snow day in the village. The storm had been as fierce and thorough as they'd predicted.

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