Catherine Nicolai

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319 appearances 2 recordings 1 series first heard Dec 2024 last heard Jan 2025

Catherine Nicolai’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.

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Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep · Merry Much Happens - 2024 · 16 Dec 2024 podcast

So I picked an outlet, plugged in a set of lights and started to string them up. As I made my way around the backside of the barn, I looked out at the back pasture. We'd had a new addition to Weathervane a while back. Well, two additions, actually. Our first cow. She'd come at the end of the summer in need of some medical care and skittish at first. We'd soon learned she was pregnant.

And one early morning, a few weeks past, we'd found her with a beautiful, light brown fuzzy calf laying in the straw. The vet had pronounced them both in good health, and him in need of a name. I couldn't help myself. With his tan blonde fur and round belly, he was immediately dubbed Winnie the Moo. Winnie and his mom were chewing in the pasture

And I stepped one foot up onto the fence rail and leaned in to coo at them. Mom lifted her head to look at me, still unsure about all of us. It would take a while to earn her trust, and that was fine. Winnie, never having known anything but safety, came right up to the fence, Mom hurrying behind him to keep watch. And she let me reach out and give him a scratch along his neck.

On the nights we had visitors, we'd take them to the smaller barn out back, where they could bed down in the straw and have a bit of privacy. Maybe some Christmas, they would want to don their reindeer antlers and join in the fun, but not this year. I went back to my work, adding more lights and big candy canes the size of shepherd's hooks that stuck into the ground.

We'd had a bit of snow the week before, but it had melted away within a day or two. and I was hoping for more before the festivities began. It certainly was getting colder. I was keeping warm with my work, but I noticed the ducks coming back early from their excursion to nestle in at the barn.

I heard a horn blowing down the long driveway and checked that all the gates were closed and walked down the drive to wave at a big truck I recognized. The wreaths were here, the yards and yards of garland. made from Easter white pine with its long, soft needles. And I noticed, among all the greenery, a tree, bundled in twine, stuck in with the rest.

I could hear one of our donkeys braying in the yard, excited by a visitor. And I called out, as they climbed down from the truck, mule-tied greetings. I got one of them to chuckle. The other just shook his head and said, That's it. I'm taking your present back. What present? What did you bring me? and they hauled the huge Christmas tree out of the open bed and stood it up.

It must have been twenty feet tall. I grinned at them, and they grinned back. Where should we put it? I laughed. Somewhere the goats won't knock it over, he said with a sigh. Mistletoe and Marmalade It was our first Christmas together. Well, we'd had Christmases as friends, plenty of them. and a Christmas in the early days of falling in love.

But this was our first Christmas as a married couple, as a blended family. There was me, my ginger cat Marmalade, my scruffy brown dog Crumb, and now my love, and his sleepy giant greyhound, Birdie. In some ways, it felt like we'd been together for ages, and in others, it all felt brand new. I'd known how he took his coffee. No milk, a spoonful of sugar.

And I knew his taste in music and the story behind the old green corduroy jacket he'd had since college. But I was completely surprised. by his passion for tabletop RPGs and near-encyclopedic knowledge of the history and flavor profiles of many, many varieties of chilies. I think I had surprised him, too.

When I'd replaced the sconces in the bedroom with some vintage ones I'd rebuilt and rewired, he joyfully flicked the switch off and on several times, admitting that this was well above his skill set and seemed like magic to him. I had a feeling that this was one of the joys of loving someone for a long time. Realizing there was always more to learn about them. The animals had also learned more.

For example, that Bertie liked to graze and didn't usually eat his breakfast all at once. Once Crumb realized there was a second breakfast available, just one bowl over, he'd scarf his own and then dive into Bertie's.

This had led to a somewhat complicated morning routine, involving shooing Crumb out into the yard as soon as he'd finished his last kibble, and convincing Bird to go on and clean his plate. But most days we managed it. Marmalade, as usual. took it all in stride. She had priorities. She needed to lay on her perch and watch the birds at the feeder.

She needed several naps to bathe her paws and face and have some uninterrupted one-on-one time with me. And whether there was one dog chasing his tail, or two while she did it, she didn't much care. I knew some of her disaffected nature was put on. She liked to appear a bit above her brothers. But I'd also seen her bathe both of their faces. when they'd come back from their chuck-ups at the vet.

And on movie night, her favorite spot was right between them, her chin resting on Bird's back, and her back paw stretched out to touch Crumb's belly. We were a happy little pack heading into the holidays. and decorating had been a good deal of fun for all of us.

I wasn't a very organized person, so when it came time to gather together all the bulbs and strands of light and little houses for the Christmas village, we'd had to troop up to the attic down into the basement, root through the garage, and dig under the bed. But eventually we found nearly everything.

Our tree went up in the living room, right in front of the big picture window where it could be seen from the street. there was a moment of contention while we debated white lights versus colored lights. But luckily, my sweetheart realized I'd made a very convincing argument, and my pick were strung up. As we hung up bulbs and ornaments, some from my collection and some from his.

We told the stories of them. Here was the bulb my mom had been gifted the year I was born, with the date still etched on the side. and the crack that had been carefully glued after I'd pulled the tree down when I was three. Here was the ornament made of popsicle sticks and cotton balls he'd glued together in kindergarten. Unrecognizable as any particular thing, but cherished just the same.

As we decorated, the animals watched a bit nervously from their beds. Boxes were often regarded with suspicion by all of them. Things were either coming in or going out, and they weren't sure they approved of either.

finally marmalade bravest of the three tiptoed up to the tree and reached a paw out toward a green glass bulb i could see her curious eyes reflected in the surface and whether she broke the bulb or not I thought I was likely to remember this moment for years to come. Her wonder at it, the glow of the tree lights through the fur of her ears.

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