Window Weather
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Welcome to Season 15 of Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Katherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week. And this week, we are giving to Sesame Workshop. Mission-driven, child-focused. Helping children grow smarter, stronger, and kinder. Learn more in our show notes. I appreciate you listening to this little bit of housekeeping. At the beginning of our eps, if you sometimes find yourself saying, along with me, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Well, we made some merch for that. And our little shop has some really great things in it these days.
You can color some scenes from the village, snuggle up with our weighted pillow, and of course sign up for ad-free and bonus episodes through our premium feeds. Learn more in our show notes or at nothingmuchappens.com. Now, I have a story to tell you. It is a place to rest your mind. And as you listen, you'll find yourself relaxing more and more. The steady rhythm of my voice will guide you right to sleep. This is a form of brain training. So if you're new here, Give us a month or so of regular use to achieve best results. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake later in the night, if you feel the wheels in your mind starting to turn, just push play again.
You'll drop right back off. Our story tonight is called Window Weather, and it's a story about the deep cold of midwinter and the calm, cozy feeling of watching it from your window. It's also about oranges and lemons, bells on collars, a well-stocked pantry and fridge, and the joy of getting into your pajamas at three in the afternoon. Now, lights out campers. Make yourself as snug and comfortable as you can. Feel how good it is to be in bed, to be at the end of your day. Whatever today was is what today was. And now we are here. Draw a deep breath. in through your nose and sigh from your mouth. Again, in and out. Good. Window weather. This first week of January was just bitter cold. The snow lay thick on the ground, and long icicles hung from the eaves.
I'd had to go out, a few errands that couldn't be put off any longer. And now as I wound my way back home, I was so glad to know I wouldn't have to leave again. The afternoon light was dim. We were still a few hours from sunset, but it looked like it might happen at any minute. a lot of houses were still strung with holiday lights, and the gleam of them in the overcast atmosphere felt like a beacon guiding me home. It was always an odd, in-between feeling at this time of year. wanting a fresh start, but needing the comfort and coziness left over from the holidays to get through it. I found it best to take it in steps. One weekend, I'd take down the tree. The next, I'd put away the Christmas village.
The outdoor lights I'd leave up until a very nice weekend rolled around, say in March, when it was a joy to be outside for a few hours and let myself appreciate the process of untangling the strands and boxing them up. I circled past the skating rink in downtown and saw that not a single soul was out on it today. It was just brutally cold, and there was no amount of bundling that could make it fun to play outside. I turned past the park where kids weren't making snowmen and wound through the neighborhood to my house. All along my street, smoke rose from chimneys, and I was glad to see so many of us settled in for the day. As I turned into my driveway and waited for the garage door to lift, snow began to fall.
Perfect timing. It felt like it had held off just for me. I drove into my garage and pushed the button. letting it close behind me. Does anyone else do this? Wait for the garage to close before you get out of the car? It feels like being closed in a decompression chamber. a layer of safety between me and the whole world. It was silly, a metaphor more than anything else. But whenever I did it, I found I sighed deeply in my car.
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