Culture
Autumn at the Inn, Part 4
In 'Autumn at the Inn, Part 4,' the narrator embraces a comforting routine at a quaint inn, savoring the simple joys of life amidst the beauty of fall. As they prepare for an exciting exhibi...
Autumn at the Inn, Part 4
Culture •
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Interactive Transcript
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You know those days when your brain just won't cooperate.
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When you're staring at your to-do list, hopping from call to call, and the mental fog just
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gets thicker, I've been there.
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And I used to reach for another coffee, only to end up jittery, and then crashing later.
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That's why I've been trying nature sunshine, brain edge.
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It's a clean plant-powered drink mix that blends wild harvested yerba mate with new tropic
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botanicals to help with focus, memory, and mental clarity without the crash.
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I've used it before recording, before writing, and I noticed I could think more clearly
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I could stay present, and I could actually finish what I set out to do.
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I like that it fits right into my wellness routine.
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Warm and cozy, in a mug, or a port over ice.
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And it feels good to know that the yerba mate is sourced responsibly from indigenous communities
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Go to naturessunshine.com and use code Nothing Much at checkout.
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That's code Nothing Much at naturessunshine.com.
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Welcome.
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To bedtime stories for everyone.
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In which, nothing much happens.
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You feel good.
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And then, you fall asleep.
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I'm Catherine Nicolai.
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I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.
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Audioengineering is by Bob Wittershine.
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We give to a different charity each week.
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And this week, we are giving to Forever Home Dog Rescue.
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They rescue dogs in need and help them find their Forever Homes.
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I'd like to thank some recent premium subscribers.
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Thank you, Zara.
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Thanks Rosie and Carl.
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Thank you, Andrew.
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Thanks, Alyssa.
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Add free bonus and our super long nine hour episodes are waiting for you.
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Click subscribe and Spotify or Apple.
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Or go to nothingmuchappens.com.
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Since every episode is someone's first, I'd like to say a bit about how and why
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this works.
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Our brains benefit from a bit of engagement at bedtime.
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That's why we can often fall asleep when we're watching TV or reading a book.
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But in the quiet after all of that's put away, we struggle.
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And the type of content you use to engage matters.
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My stories are intentionally created to build a long-term habit of mindfulness and a short-term
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result of excellent sleep.
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I'll tell the story twice and I'll go a little slower the second time through.
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It's brain training, so give it some time to work.
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The more you use it, the quicker you'll fall and return to sleep.
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Our story tonight is called Autumn at the end, Part 4.
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And for now, it's the last in this series.
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It's a story about a new routine that heals as it unfolds.
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A morning cup of tea, drunk from a window seat on the second floor.
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A room full of interesting objects and stories waiting to be heard.
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It's also about an arm full of letters, a bike ride through falling leaves and stepping
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into something new to find yourself again.
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Now snuggle down into your sheets and get comfortable.
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Maybe you've been waiting for this moment all day.
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Well, it's here now.
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Nothing else is needed from you.
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You have done enough for the day.
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Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose and sigh from your mouth.
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Again, breathe in and out.
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Good.
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Autumn at the end, Part 4.
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After a few days at the end, I'd settled into a routine.
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My wake-up after my room was already full of sunlight to the gentle scratch of sycamore
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and piling at the door, ready to get out and to his kitty business.
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Then I'd make a cup of tea from the kettle in my room and curl up on the window seat to
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take in the view and slowly come to life.
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I noticed that the family of mallard ducks on the lake had one white farm duck in their
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midst.
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I looked for him each morning, checking that the family was all together, letting out
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on a sigh over the steam of my tea cup once I spotted him.
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Then I'd dress in jeans and a sweater and trumped down to the main floor of the inn.
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My often stopped on the landing halfway down.
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There was a window there looking out over the front drive and I'd tried to judge if
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the trees across the way had shifted a shade or two since the day before.
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Down in the entryway, I'd take a copy of the village paper from beside the front door.
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Great a few of my fellow guests and make my way down the long hallway to the back porch
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where breakfast was served.
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It was cool on the porch, but the fresh morning air was so crisp and delicious I always looked
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forward to settling into my seat.
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On that first morning, I'd picked a small table at the far end of the porch, not because
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I was shy or desperate for privacy, though there is as much of that as one could want
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here.
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But because I wanted a spot in the corner where I had a sort of panoramic view from the
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water to the woods, now it had become my spot.
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On this morning when I sat in it and flipped my coffee cup over in its saucer, a signal
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that I'd learned meant, fill her up, please.
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The innkeeper swept over with a craft and began to pour.
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From the pocket on her apron, she took out a few packets of the raw sugar I liked and
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set them beside the cup.
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Big day, I said.
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She nodded and smiled easily.
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She didn't seem worried or run off her feet.
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Today was the opening of an exhibit in the ballroom on the second floor.
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That over the last few days I'd learned all about.
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It seems for decades I had in a room had sat shut up in the inn, just off the library
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in fact.
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It had gone undiscovered, even by the innkeeper herself, until the night of the all-hallow's
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ball almost a year before.
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It wasn't quite clear to me how she'd finally stumbled upon it, but when she did, she
spk_0
found it was full of journals and artifacts that hadn't been seen or handled in years.
spk_0
For the last few months, she'd been putting them together as a collection of local history
spk_0
for the public to enjoy.
spk_0
And tonight, at five on the dot, the doors of the ballroom would open and we could all
spk_0
take a small trip back in time.
spk_0
It meant several other guests who booked their rooms here for this week especially so that
spk_0
they could see the exhibit.
spk_0
And while I hadn't known anything about it, when I'd made my own reservation, I was
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no less excited.
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The innkeeper told me, one morning as she served me a dish baked maple oatmeal and toast
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with apple butter.
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That the things she'd found in that room weren't tied to some great epic mystery or anything,
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but they were rather a sort of archive of daily life that they'd been collected by her
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predecessor.
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An earlier innkeeper who'd not just kept the inn, she kept the stories of many people who'd
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pass through it.
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Each morning as she poured coffee and set plates down in front of me, she told me a bit
spk_0
more about the items that would be on display.
spk_0
There were apple picking baskets that were hand woven from ash splints soaked in water
spk_0
till they were pliable, with handles made of steam bent hickory.
spk_0
I knew that there was a collection of dance cards from village socials and that she'd
spk_0
been able to trace a few names on them to show where the dancers had ended up, who they'd
spk_0
married or where they lived.
spk_0
And there was a good bit of art.
spk_0
Children's drawings, sketches on the back of grocery lists, designs on play programs,
spk_0
and some beautiful photography of familiar sights around town.
spk_0
Just as I was stirring the raw sugar into my coffee, chef carried a large tray of baked
spk_0
goods up from the inn's kitchen and out onto the porch.
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The innkeeper watched them settle it down onto a stand by the door, and asked if I wanted
spk_0
a piece of coffee cake or a pecan sticky bun or a slice of pumpkin tea cake.
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Having tasted so many of chef's delicious creations, I knew I didn't want to limit myself,
spk_0
and I asked if there might be a sampler option.
spk_0
She chuckled and bustled off to gather the plates.
spk_0
The next part of my daily routine after I ate was to venture out and explore, and with
spk_0
the benefit of a bountiful, piqued breakfast, I was ready to see what the autumn world
spk_0
held for me.
spk_0
I packed my journal into my bag and stopped to poke my head into the front office.
spk_0
I noticed a stack of letters and postcards in the inn's outbox, and asked if I could
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drop them off at the mailbox on the corner for her.
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She thanked me, and asked if I was heading into town.
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I said that I was.
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Did she need anything?
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She told me that the bookshop owner had called.
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The novel she'd ordered was in.
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Would I mind picking it up?
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I wouldn't.
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As I pulled the front door shut behind me, kicked through the falling leaves on the
spk_0
drive.
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A bundle of letters under my arm, and a chore to do for someone who by now felt like a
spk_0
friend.
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I was so glad I'd made this trip.
spk_0
I'd started off by thinking I just needed some time off, some fresh air.
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And a break from the daily grind.
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But I thought now that what had been missing from my days, what I'd been burnt out by the
spk_0
lack of, were the small moments of ordinary life that I seemed to feel more deeply here.
spk_0
A bike ride under falling leaves, a meal on the porch, a spoonful of sugar, a duck spotted
spk_0
in the water, a napple basket, a postcard.
spk_0
When I paused, when I took time to savor these things, I found they equaled more than the
spk_0
some of their parts.
spk_0
I wasn't ready to go home yet.
spk_0
And when I did, I was starting to think it would just be to pack up the plants and make
spk_0
bigger plans.
spk_0
But wherever I ended up, I would take with me the rhythm of these days.
spk_0
I would make it my own.
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Autumn at the end, part four.
spk_0
After a few days at the end, I'd settled into a routine.
spk_0
I'd wake after my room was already full of sunlight.
spk_0
To the gentle scratch of Sikamur, pying at the door, ready to get out and to his kitty
spk_0
business, then I'd make a cup of tea from the kettle in my room and curl up on the window
spk_0
seat to take in the view and slowly come to life.
spk_0
I noticed that the family of mallard ducks on the lake had one white farm duck in their
spk_0
midst.
spk_0
And I looked for him each morning, checking that the family was all together, letting
spk_0
out a sigh over the steam of my tea cup once I spotted him.
spk_0
Then I'd dress in jeans and a sweater and trump down to the main floor of the inn.
spk_0
I often stopped on the landing halfway down.
spk_0
There was a window looking out over the front drive.
spk_0
And I'd try to judge if the trees across the way had shifted a shade or two since the
spk_0
day before.
spk_0
Down in the entryway, I'd take a copy of the village paper from beside the front door
spk_0
and greet a few of my fellow guests and make my way down the long hall to the back porch
spk_0
where breakfast was served.
spk_0
It was cool on the porch, but the fresh morning air was so crisp and delicious.
spk_0
I always looked forward to settling in to my seat.
spk_0
And on that first morning, I picked a small table at the far end of the porch, not because
spk_0
I was shy or desperate for privacy, though there is as much of that as one could want
spk_0
here.
spk_0
But because I wanted a spot in the corner where I had a sort of panoramic view from the
spk_0
water to the woods, now it had become my spot.
spk_0
And this morning, when I sat in it and flipped my coffee cup over in its saucer, a signal
spk_0
that I'd learned meant, fill her up, please.
spk_0
The innkeeper swept over with a carafe and began to pour from the pocket on her apron.
spk_0
She took out a few packets of the raw sugar I liked and set them beside my cup.
spk_0
Big day, I said.
spk_0
She nodded and smiled easily.
spk_0
She didn't seem worried or run off her feet.
spk_0
Today was the opening of an exhibit in the ballroom on the second floor.
spk_0
That over the last few days, I'd learned all about.
spk_0
For decades, it seems a hidden room had sat shut up in the inn, just off the library,
spk_0
in fact.
spk_0
It had gone undiscovered, even by the innkeeper herself.
spk_0
Until the night of the All-Hallos Ball, almost a year before, it wasn't quite clear to
spk_0
me how she'd finally stumbled upon it.
spk_0
But when she did, she found it was full of journals and artifacts that hadn't been seen
spk_0
or handled in years.
spk_0
For the last few months, she'd been putting them together as a collection of local history
spk_0
for the public to enjoy.
spk_0
And tonight, at five on the dot, the doors of the ballroom would open, and we could all
spk_0
take a small trip back in time.
spk_0
I'd met several other guests who'd booked their rooms here for this week, especially,
spk_0
so that they could see the exhibit.
spk_0
And while I hadn't known anything about it, when I'd made my own reservation, I was
spk_0
no less excited.
spk_0
Each morning, as she poured coffee and sent plates down in front of me, she told me a bit
spk_0
more about the items that would be on display.
spk_0
There were apple-picking baskets that were hand-woven from ash splints soaked in water until
spk_0
they were pliable, with handles made of steam-bent hickory.
spk_0
I knew that there was a collection of dance cards from village socials.
spk_0
On that sheet, been able to trace a few names on them to show where the dancers had ended
spk_0
up, who they'd married, or where they lived.
spk_0
And there was a good bit of art as well.
spk_0
Children's drawings, sketches on the back of grocery lists, designs on play programs,
spk_0
and some beautiful photography of familiar sights around town.
spk_0
Just as I was stirring the raw sugar into my coffee, chef carried a large tray of baked
spk_0
goods up from the end's kitchen, and out onto the porch.
spk_0
Being keeper-watched them settle it down onto a stand, and asked if I wanted a piece of
spk_0
coffee cake, or a pecans sticky bun, or a slice of pumpkin tea cake.
spk_0
Having tasted so many of chef's delicious creations, I knew I didn't want to limit
spk_0
myself, and asked if there might be a sampler option.
spk_0
She chuckled and bustled off to gather the plates.
spk_0
The next part of my daily routine, after I ate, was to venture out to explore, and with
spk_0
the benefit of a bountiful baked breakfast, I was ready to see what the autumn
spk_0
world held for me.
spk_0
I packed my journal into my bag, and stopped to poke my head into the front office.
spk_0
My notice to stack of letters, and postcards in the ends out box, and asked if I could drop
spk_0
them off at the mailbox on the corner for her.
spk_0
She thanked me, and asked if I was headed into town.
spk_0
I said that I was.
spk_0
Did she need anything?
spk_0
She told me the bookshop owner had called.
spk_0
The novel she'd ordered was in.
spk_0
Would I mind picking it up?
spk_0
I wouldn't.
spk_0
As I pulled the front door shut behind me, and kicked through the falling leaves on the
spk_0
drive.
spk_0
A bundle of letters under my arm, and a chore to do, for someone who by now felt like
spk_0
a friend.
spk_0
I was so glad I'd made this trip.
spk_0
I'd started off by thinking I just needed some time off, some fresh air, and a break from
spk_0
the daily grind.
spk_0
But I thought now that what had been missing from my days before, would I have been burnt
spk_0
out by the lack of, or the small moments of ordinary life, that I seemed to feel more
spk_0
deeply here.
spk_0
A bike ride, under falling leaves, a meal on the porch, a spoonful of sugar, a duck
spk_0
spotted in the water, an apple basket.
spk_0
A postcard.
spk_0
When I paused, when I took time to savor these things, I found that they equaled more than
spk_0
the sum of their parts.
spk_0
I wasn't ready to go home yet.
spk_0
And when I did, I was starting to think it would just be to pack up the plants and make
spk_0
bigger plans.
spk_0
But wherever I ended up.
spk_0
I would take with me the rhythm of these days.
spk_0
I would make it my own.
spk_0
Sweet dreams.