Sunny Skies (Encore)

Get more Nothing Much Happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories, and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love. Subscribe now. Hi, I'm Catherine Nicolai, and if you're looking for something gentle to listen to that isn't news or true crime or self-improvement, I made this for you. Thanks from the village of Nothing Much is like easy listening, but for fiction. Cozy, warm, calm stories about ordinary moments that feel a little magical. They're grounding, soothing, and quietly uplifting without being cheesy, relaxing without putting you to sleep, and just dreamy enough to remind you that there's still sweetness in everyday life. Make for your commute while you're tidying up or when you want a little escape that feels simple and good. Search for stories from the village of Nothing Much wherever you listen. You already know how much good sleep matters, because when you sleep well, everything feels a little easier. Your mood, your focus, even how your body feels the next day. When you don't, it can feel like you're dragging that tiredness with you everywhere. That's why I want to tell you about the sleep bundle from cured nutrition, which I've been using as part of my own wine-down routine, and which I gifted to another friend today. What I appreciate about it is that it's designed to help your body ease into rest, rather than knocking you out or leaving you groggy the next morning. The sleep bundle combines two formulas that work together to support deeper, more restorative sleep. It includes there's end capsules, which are made with calming botanicals like zelarian root, chamomile, ashwaganda, and magnesium, along with broad spectrum CBD to help quiet the mind and relax the body. The bundle also includes their CBN nightcaps, or night oil, which support deeper sleep quality through the night. I take them about an hour before bed. Usually while I'm dimming the lights, getting into my reading, I like that they work with my natural sleep rhythms. I wake up feeling rested, not foggy, and that makes a big difference. Right now, the sleep bundle is already 10% off, and you can take an additional 20% off at checkout with my code Sweet Dreams, the discount stack. Plus all orders over $100 automatically qualify for free shipping, including the sleep bundle. Visit curednutrition.com slash nothing much, and use my code Sweet Dreams at checkout for the extra savings that's c-u-r-e-d-nutrition.com slash nothing much coupon code Sweet Dreams. Welcome. The bedtime stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on nothing much happens. Audioengineering is by Bob Witterschheim. 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, and since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different. But the stories are always soothing and family-friendly, and our wishes for you are always deep-brassed and Sweet Dreams. A busy mind can keep you up, or my returning to sleep in the middle of the night really difficult. So, let's try some positive distraction therapy. I'll tell you a sweet, simple story. In fact, I'll tell it twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. Just follow along with the sound of my voice, and that will slow your busy brain, and sleep will come. Know that this is brain training. Regular use improves results, so have some patience if you are new here. Our story tonight is called Sunny Skies, and it's a story about our little village of nothing much, stepping back into the light after a long winter storm. It's also about small changes, adding up over time, candle-ice, and frost-flowers, letting the sun bathe your face after several great days, and a small adventure to keep you going till spring. I've been thinking a lot about aging lately, and not in a fearful way, I believe aging is a privilege. I just want to be practical about it, about how I want to feel steady and capable as the years go on, how I want to sleep well, move easily, and support my health from the inside out, not just chase the appearance of being younger. That's why I was genuinely interested when I learned about fatty-15. C-15 is built around C-15, the first emerging essential fatty acid discovered in more than 90 years. Research shows C-15 helps keep our cells strong and resilient, which is foundational for healthy aging. What surprised me is that this discovery came from work with the U.S. Navy, studying the health of aging dolphins. The research revealed that when we don't have enough C-15, our cells become more fragile and they age faster, and that affects our whole body's age. There's even a newly identified nutritional deficiency tied to low C-15 levels, called cellular fragility syndrome, and studies suggest as many as one in three people may be affected. Fatty-15 was developed over more than a decade by doctors working with the Navy to create a pure, optimized, bio-available form of C-15. It's been shown to support sleep, cognitive health, joint comfort, and the body's natural repair systems. For me, fatty-15 feels like a long-term supportive choice, something I'm taking for my future health. Not a quick fix, but a steady investment. With science-backed, vegan-friendly, free of allergens and preservatives, and comes in a beautiful, reusable glass jar with refills shipped to your door. Fatty-15 is on a mission to optimize your C-15 levels to help support your long-term health and wellness, especially as you age. You can get 15% off their 90-day starter kit by going to Fatty15.com slash nothing much, and using code nothingmuch. To check out. Okay, lights out, friend. The day is done. Whatever happened today is what happened today. And now it is time for sleep. Let everything relax. Unlock your jaw. Open your shoulders and notice how good it feels to be safe in bed. Draw a slow, deep breath in and side out. One more time. Fill your lungs. And empty. Good. 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. One percent today. One percent tomorrow. And this morning, that one percent change was tangible. There was a different scent in the air. A different texture of light as the sun caught 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 it when I stepped outside to get the newspaper. Everything 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. 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 this feels. I 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 hearty air 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 loved this stretch of time when winter slowed us to a stop when everything was paused. And I'd been able to retreat into my cozy house. Stay in my favorite jammies all day. Watch movies and make soup. 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 farther 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. I 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. It passed a frozen pond. One sunny morning hadn't done anything to its inches of frozen ice. And I stopped a moment to look at the way the light caught the angles of its surface. It wasn't even and flat. The wind must have been blowing hard as the crystals came together. I'd seen pictures before of frozen waves on the Great Lakes. I'd heard of candle ice that made a beautiful ringing sound as millions of thin straws of frozen water bumped into each other. And once I'd held a frost flower in my hand. A kind of ice that came from a freezing fog. This was just a small pond with a slightly bumpy surface. But still, I felt like I'd stumbled upon something miraculous. I squatted down to look more closely. And noticed that in the bright sun, the snow and ice sparkled like glitter. With a rainbow of colors that I could only catch when the light hit just right. I stood up tall, causing the dangling end of my scarf back over my shoulder. I remembered I had the newspaper under my arm. And while I did have my boots and coat on, I was still dressed in my pajamas under it all. And maybe I should regroup before continuing any adventures. Taking my way back across the street and up the block to my house. I found myself taking one deep breath after another. Drawing this new energy deep inside to fill my cup. From my house, I dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table. I would read it later and went to change into jeans and a sweater. I felt the urge to open a window, but I knew I was getting well ahead of myself. I remembered an early spring day years before when I had my first apartment and how desperate I had been to let warm air in on a sunny day. I'd opened all the windows and gone out with friends for lunch. 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. I'd walked downstairs, I'd done 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. I had a 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. One percent today. One percent tomorrow. And this morning, that one percent 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. And 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. My closed my eyes and let it bathe my face. Gosh, I'd forgotten how good that feels. I'd started down the porch steps, unnoticed the icicles dripping from the eaves. I realized, in fact, that there were lots of sounds to tune into this morning. There were the girls and some of the hard-eared birds who stayed through the winter, moving along tree branches, where snow was quickly disappearing. We heard dogs barking in the distance. Grudge doors going up. Cars on the next straight 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 and 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. I looked at it 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. My past, a frozen pond. One sunny morning hadn't done anything to its inches of frozen ice. And I stopped a moment to look at the way the light caught the angles of its surface. It wasn't even and flat. The wind must have been blowing hard as the crystals came together. I'd seen pictures before a frozen waves on the Great Lakes. I'd heard of candle ice that made a beautiful ringing sound as millions of thin straws of frozen water bumped into each other. And once I'd held a frost flower in my hand. A kind of ice that came from a freezing fog. This was just a small pond with a slightly bumpy surface. But still, I felt like I'd stumbled upon something miraculous. I squatted down to look more closely. And noticed that in the bright sun, snow and ice sparkled like glitter, with a rainbow of colors that I could only catch when the light hit just right. I stood up tossing the dangling end of my scarf back over my shoulder. And I remembered that I had the newspaper under my arm. And that while I did have my boots and coat on, I was still dressed in my pajamas under it all. And maybe I should regroup before continuing any adventures. Making my way back across the street, end up a block to my house. I found myself taking one deep breath after another, drawing this new energy deep inside to fill my cup. At my house, I dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table to read later. And went to change into jeans and a sweater. I felt the urge to open a window, but I knew I was getting well ahead of myself. I remembered an early spring day, years before, when I'd had my first apartment. And how desperate I had been to let warm air in on the sunny day. I'd opened all the windows and gone out with friends for lunch. 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, just regular socks rather than the double thick ones, which I knew 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, when I slipped them on, and turned down the radio. My smiled into the sun. Sweet dreams.