Catherine Nicolai
speaker
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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Appearances
Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned. And by the time I'd made it back home, my little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me. And after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on to sleep in. Older and wiser, I opened the curtains, rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.
I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater and just regular socks rather than the double thick ones, which barely squeezed into my shoes.
Back downstairs, I donned my coat and boots and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car warmed up around me, I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect.
I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up. Reaching into my bag, I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while, and I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sunny skies. After weeks of snow and ice, today dawned with a different feeling.
I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning and at night. It still felt like it didn't add up to much. But I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. There was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon.
It wasn't spring, I knew that.
But it was a reminder that winter wasn't just one thing.
It has shades. It is a spectrum of experiences. I'd noticed when I stepped outside to get the newspaper something I've done lately in the gloom with my face wrapped up in a muffler shuffling in my boots and reaching with damp mittens into the snowbank at the edge of the driveway. But today, the air felt different. It was softer.
The crisp edge of it had been smoothed into something
that was easy to breathe and had a slight sweet scent like rain on pavement.
The bracing cold was suddenly less bracing.
Instead of rounding my shoulders and hunching over, To keep any warmth in, I stood tall and lifted my face to the open sky. I let my scarf fall away from my neck and took slow, deep breaths. The sun made me blink. when I had seen it last, which now felt like weeks ago. It was a bright white, appearing rarely and between snow showers. Now it had a rich honey yellow color,
and it felt like pure energy pouring into my system. I closed my eyes and let it bathe my face.
Gosh, I'd forgotten
how good that feels. I'd started down the porch steps and noticed the icicles dripping from the eaves. I realized, in fact, that there were lots of sounds to tune into this morning.
Squirrels and some of the hardier birds who stayed through the winter, moving along tree branches.
where snow was quickly disappearing. I heard dogs barking in the distance. Garage doors going up. Cars on the next street over. Activity. It was inspiring. I'd loved this stretch of time when winter slowed us to a stop, when everything was paused, when I'd been able to retreat into my cozy house. Stay in my favorite jammies all day. Watch movies. Make soup.
But now, it felt like a nice change of pace. To do something else. And the day seemed to be encouraging. Just that. At the bottom of the steps, I reached down for the newspaper. Thankfully, well wrapped and protected from all this melting snow. I tucked it under one arm and went further down the drive. to the sidewalk, then followed that to the corner a few houses down.
I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Just wanted to see more, I guess. to see what we were all getting up to, if others could feel the change that I could. Across the street, I saw a man walking a dog. He waved at me, and even the dog seemed to be smiling. Yes, I think they could feel it too. I crossed the street and went another block over. I passed a frozen pond.
One sunny morning hadn't done anything
Showing 41–60 of 319 · page 3 of 16
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