Strawberry Moon

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Get more Nothing Much Happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories,
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and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love.
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Subscribe now. Do you ever feel like you're trying to
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eat healthy, but the rules keep changing? One minute it's
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low fat, and the next it's low carb, and somehow
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you're still overwhelmed? Be Well by Kelly is here to
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simplify the science of nutrition. Every week, Kelly breaks down
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what actually matters, so you can make choices and not cheats.
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It's about balance, long-term health, and building a positive relationship
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with food that lasts. Listen to Be Well by Kelly
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wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Wednesday. Do
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you ever notice how most health advice tells you what
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to do but not how to actually feel better in
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your body? The Align podcast with Erin Alexander is all
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about reconnecting with how your body is meant to move, breathe,
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and function. Drawing from two decades of experience working with
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top performers, athletes, and CEOs, Erin breaks down simple principles
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of posture, breath, and movement that help you feel stronger, calmer,
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and more aligned in everyday life. Listen to the Align
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podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Health and wellness is
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louder and more confusing than ever. Everywhere you turn, someone
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is selling certainty. One expert says carbs are the enemy,
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another says they're essential for your brain and hormones. One
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voice swears cold plunges will transform your health, and another
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warns they'll wreck your nervous system. One supplement is called life-changing,
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the next day someone says it could make you sick.
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It's overwhelming. And that's exactly why Heal Thyself exists. Hosted
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by Dr. Christian Gonzalez, Heal Thyself cuts through the noise,
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slows everything down, and offers clarity in a space flooded
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with contradictions. This is not a trend-based wellness or recycled
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talking points podcast. It's grounded, direct truth that blends real
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science with spiritual and emotional intelligence. Each episode features conversations
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with doctors, scientists, shamans, healers, and thought leaders across many disciplines,
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all with one goal, helping you understand what is actually
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true for you. Instead of obsessing over one piece of
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health and ignoring the rest, Heal Thyself takes an integrated
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approach connecting the body, mind, nervous system, trauma, energy, and consciousness.
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Listen to Heal Thyself with Dr. G. wherever you get
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your podcasts. Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which
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nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
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I'm Katherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories
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you hear on Nothing Much Happens, with audio engineering by
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Bob Wittersheim We give to a different charity each week,
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and this week we are giving to the International Rescue Committee,
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whose purpose is to help people whose lives and livelihoods
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are shattered by conflict and disaster, including the climate crisis,
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to survive, recover, and gain control over their future. If
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you'd like to join us in giving, we have a
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link to them in our show notes. And if you
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need more Nothing Much in your life, head to nothingmuchappens.com,
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where you can find links to our beautiful illustrated book,
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bonus content, and our very caring social media communities. Now,
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busy minds need a place to rest. Without some framework,
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some structure for your thoughts, They're likely to run wild
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and without stop. So just listen to the sound of
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my voice and follow along with the general shape of
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this story. And before you know it, you'll be fast asleep.
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I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little
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slower the second time through. If you wake later and
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feel your thoughts begin to race again, listen again. Or
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just think your way back through any part of the
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story that you can remember. That bit of structure will
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steer you right back to sleep. Now, switch off your light.
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Put away anything you've been looking at or playing with.
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Get as comfortable as you can. I'll take the next watch,
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so you can let go and rest deep. Take a
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slow breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.
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One more. Breathe in Let it out slow. Good. Our
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story tonight is called Strawberry Moon. And it's a story
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about dusk on the porch on one of the first
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warm evenings of summer. It's also about the lit window
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of a neighbor's house. the quiet tick of a clock
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in the hall, and a good book before bed. Strawberry
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Moon I was getting ready for bed, padding around in
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my slippers, and filling a glass with water at the sink,
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when I suddenly wanted to step outside one more time
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to feel the night air around me. I set my
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glass on the counter and went to the door and
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pushed it open. After months of feeling chilled at night,
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rushing to get under the covers and warm up, It
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felt like a dream to step onto the porch and
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be surrounded by soft air that met my skin like
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perfectly warmed water. I didn't need a sweater as the
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breeze blew. It didn't chill my ears or neck. I
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was just comfortable. I walked to the edge of the
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porch and sat down on the top step in my pajamas,
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propping my elbows on my knees and my chin in
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my hands. I closed my eyes for a time, listening
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to the nighttime buzz of insects and the songs of
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drowsy birds. It was dusk. The streetlights had come on,
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and the sky was that lovely purple that only lasts
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for a half hour or so before the full darkness
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sets in. in the house across the street. A few
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lights were on here and there. And I was comforted
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to think of my neighbors finishing up the dinner dishes,
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stretching out on a sofa to watch something, or tucking
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in early with a book to read. Farther down the street,
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I could hear a screen door banging, a dog barking,
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and children's voices as they came in after a long
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day of play. And I was sure that up and
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down the block, others like me were sitting on their
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porches the porch light off so as not to attract
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the bugs. I'm just enjoying the peace of the gloaming.
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I sat there for quite a while, not a moment
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of it bored or distracted, just letting the breeze waft
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over me and thinking of all the summer evenings, that
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I had done this since I was a child. We'd
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had a swing on the front porch, and at least
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a few times a year, I'd been allowed to drag
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my sleeping bag out, along with a pillow from the bed,
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a flashlight and a book. And though I rarely made
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it through the night before being chased in by mosquitoes
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or just wanting my own bed, I'd loved those little
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adventures and would beg to do it again the very
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next night. Finally, I felt my eyelids getting heavy and
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I pushed myself up from the steps. I took one
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last long breath of the night air and looked up
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at the stars now bright above me. The neighborhood was quiet.
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Most of the houses with just a single light on
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here or there. I stepped inside and locked the door
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behind me and shuffled back to the kitchen for my
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glass of water. You know those moments when water tastes
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so good? That was now. I wondered if it was
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the half hour or so that I'd sat on the step.
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Had it cleared my palate, both metaphorically and literally? I
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did feel like a clean slate. I'd left a colander
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of strawberries in the sink, after I'd rinsed them. And
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I brought my water glass with me to pick through them.
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When I buy a carton of strawberries in February, I
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almost always regret it. They come out tasting something like
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sour pink ice cubes. but these ones that I'd picked
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myself from the patch on my allotment smelled more like
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strawberries than those others had ever tasted. They were small,
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about the size of the end of my thumb, and
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they were soft and meant to be enjoyed as soon
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as they ripened. I took a bite and it tasted
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so good I nearly laughed aloud, truly sweet and tender
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and melting in my mouth. I ate half the colander
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full right there, listening to the grandfather clock tick in
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the hall and blissfully thinking of very little. Finally, I
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tipped the rest of the berries into a bowl and
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set them in the fridge for the next day, refilled
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my glass, and headed for the stairs. When I passed
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the big clock in the hall, I stopped. realizing that
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it probably needed to be wound. It was an eight-day clock,
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meaning that the mainspring would lose power after seven days
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and need to be wound on the eighth. That was
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a bit too much math for me, so I just
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wound it every Saturday night, I set my glass down
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on a shelf, and by the light of the street
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lamp shining through the window, I opened the lower door
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and took the small winding key from its peg. When
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I'd first found this old clock wedged into the back
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of the coat closet, I thought that the key was lost.
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but when I'd taken it to the horologist, she'd shown
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me how it was still safe in its keeping place,
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waiting to be put to work again. The clockwork, on
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the other hand, was missing a few pieces and had
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to be taken apart completely, cleaned in clock-cleaning fluid and
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painstakingly put back together with replacement parts along the way.
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But it ran perfectly now. I opened the beveled glass
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cover on the clock face and fitted the winding key
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into its spot and began to wind. I'd been timid
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about this part when I'd first taken up winding duties,
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having always heard that it was dangerous to overwind a clock.
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But she'd assured me that it couldn't actually be overwhelmed,
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and that overwinding was likely Clockmaker speak for, it's broken,
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but I can fix it. So when the key was tight,
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I took it out and hung it back on its peg.
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I closed the glass cover and looked at the moon dial.
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A feature not all clocks have, but luckily this one did.
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which showed the position of the moon in the sky.
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A full moon was just a few days away, and
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I smiled, still tasting the sweetness on my tongue, remembering
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that this moon was called the strawberry moon. In my bedroom,
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the windows were open and it felt a bit like
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stepping back onto the porch. Cool, sweet, fresh air and
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my bed awaited me. Not wanting to turn on a
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light and in tribute to those front porch swing sleepovers
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of my childhood, I fished in a drawer until I
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found a small flashlight and propped up in bed to
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read my book till I fell asleep. Strawberry moon. I
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was getting ready for bed, padding around in my slippers.
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and filling a glass with water at the sink. When
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I suddenly wanted to step outside one more time to
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00:19:45.849 --> 00:19:53.220
feel the night air around me. I set my glass
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00:19:53.420 --> 00:19:58.980
on the counter and went to the door and pushed
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00:19:59.039 --> 00:20:09.289
it open. After months of feeling chilled at night, rushing
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00:20:09.410 --> 00:20:16.849
to get under the covers and warm up. It felt
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00:20:16.910 --> 00:20:23.430
like a dream to step onto the porch and be
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00:20:23.450 --> 00:20:30.410
surrounded by soft air that met my skin like perfectly
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00:20:30.490 --> 00:20:40.730
warmed water. I didn't need a sweater. As the breeze blew,
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00:20:41.250 --> 00:20:48.480
it didn't chill my ears or neck. I was just comfortable.
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00:20:52.920 --> 00:20:57.440
I walked to the edge of the porch and sat
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00:20:57.539 --> 00:21:04.619
down on the top step in my pajamas, propping my
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00:21:04.700 --> 00:21:09.529
elbows on my knees. and my chin in my hands.
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00:21:13.789 --> 00:21:19.690
I closed my eyes for a time, listening to the
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00:21:19.750 --> 00:21:25.490
nighttime buzz of insects and the songs of drowsy birds.
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00:21:29.299 --> 00:21:36.559
It was dusk. The streetlights had come on, and the
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00:21:36.619 --> 00:21:43.059
sky was that lovely purple that only lasts for a
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00:21:43.119 --> 00:21:48.089
half hour or so before the full darkness sets in.
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00:21:52.309 --> 00:21:56.880
In the house across the street, a few lights were
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on here and there. When I was comforted to think
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about my neighbors, finishing up their dinner dishes, stretching out
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00:22:12.529 --> 00:22:18.710
on a sofa to watch something, or tucking in early
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with a book to read. Farther down the street, I
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00:22:27.150 --> 00:22:34.559
could hear a screen door banging, a dog barking, and
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00:22:34.619 --> 00:22:39.609
children's voices as they came in after a long day
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00:22:39.640 --> 00:22:47.230
of play. I was sure that, up and down the block,
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00:22:49.349 --> 00:22:56.500
others like me were sitting on their porches, the porch
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light off so as not to attract the bugs, and
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just enjoying the peace of the gloaming. I sat there
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00:23:11.339 --> 00:23:16.299
for quite a while, not a moment of it bored
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00:23:17.599 --> 00:23:29.170
or distracted, just letting the breeze waft over me. I'm
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00:23:29.210 --> 00:23:32.880
thinking of all the summer evenings that I had done
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00:23:32.920 --> 00:23:40.990
this since I was a child. we'd had a swing
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00:23:41.230 --> 00:23:46.490
on the front porch. And at least a few times
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00:23:46.559 --> 00:23:52.200
a year, I'd been allowed to drag my sleeping bag
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00:23:52.440 --> 00:23:57.380
out onto it, along with a pillow from the bed,
220
00:23:58.920 --> 00:24:06.420
a flashlight, and a book. And though I rarely made
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00:24:06.460 --> 00:24:11.589
it through the night before being chased in by mosquitoes,
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00:24:14.109 --> 00:24:19.150
or just wanting my own bed. I'd loved those little
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00:24:19.230 --> 00:24:25.299
adventures and would beg to do it again the very
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00:24:25.359 --> 00:24:36.890
next night. Finally, I felt my eyelids getting heavy and
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00:24:36.930 --> 00:24:42.809
I pushed myself up from the steps. I took one
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00:24:42.950 --> 00:24:49.299
last long breath of the night air and looked up
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00:24:49.339 --> 00:24:58.059
at the stars now bright above me. The neighborhood was
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00:24:58.200 --> 00:25:04.920
quiet now. Most of the houses with just a single
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00:25:04.960 --> 00:25:12.910
light on. I stepped inside unlocked the door behind me,
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and shuffled back to the kitchen for my glass of water.
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00:25:22.299 --> 00:25:30.480
You know those moments when water tastes so good? Well,
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00:25:30.500 --> 00:25:36.009
that was now. I wondered if it was the half
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00:25:36.069 --> 00:25:42.670
hour or so that I'd sat on the step. Had
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00:25:42.710 --> 00:25:51.680
it cleared my palate, both metaphorically and literally? I did
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00:25:51.779 --> 00:25:58.380
feel like a clean slate. I'd left a colander of
236
00:25:58.480 --> 00:26:04.619
strawberries in the sink after I rinsed them, and I
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brought my water glass with me to pick through them.
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When I buy a carton of strawberries in February, I
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almost always regret it. They come out tasting something like
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sour pink ice cubes, but these ones that I'd picked
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myself from the patch on my allotment. smelled more like
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strawberries than those others had ever tasted. They were small,
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about the size of the end of my thumb, and
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were soft and meant to be enjoyed as soon as
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they ripened. I took a bite, And it tasted so good,
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I nearly laughed aloud. Truly sweet and tender and melting
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in my mouth. I ate half the colander full right there,
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listening to the grandfather clock tick in the hall. and
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blissfully thinking of very little. Finally, I tipped the rest
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of the berries into a bowl and set them in
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the fridge for the next day, refilled my glass, and
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headed for the stairs. When I passed the big clock
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in the hall, I stopped, realizing that it probably needed
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to be wound. It was an eight-day clock, meaning the
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mainspring would lose power after seven days and need to
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be wound on the eighth. That was a bit too
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much math for me, so I just wound it every
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Saturday night. I set my glass down on a shelf,
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and by the light of the street lamp shining through
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the window, I opened the lower door. and took the
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small winding key from its peg. When I'd first found
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this old clock wedged into the back of the coat closet,
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I thought that the key was lost. But when I'd
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taken it to the horologist, she chose me how it
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was still safe in its keeping place waiting to be
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put to work again the clockwork on the other hand
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was missing a few pieces and had to be taken
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apart completely, cleaned in clock-cleaning fluid, and painstakingly put back
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together with replacement parts. But it ran perfectly now. I
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opened the beveled glass cover on the clock face and
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fitted the winding key into its spot and began to wind.
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I'd been timid about this part when I'd first taken
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up winding duty, having always heard that it was dangerous
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to overwind a clock. But she'd assured me that it
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couldn't actually be overwhelmed. And that overwinding was likely clockmaker
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speak for it's broken, but I can fix it. When
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the key was tight, I took it out and hung
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it back on its peg. I closed the glass cover
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and looked at the moon dial, a feature not all
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clocks have, but luckily this one did, which showed the
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position of the moon in the sky. A full moon
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was just a few days away And I smiled, still
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tasting the sweetness on my tongue, remembering that this moon
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was called the strawberry moon. I reached for my glass
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and climbed the stairs. In my bedroom, the windows were
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open And it felt a bit like stepping back onto
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the porch. Cool, fresh air and my bed awaited me.
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Not wanting to turn on a light and in tribute
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to those front porch swing sleepovers of my childhood. I
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fished in a drawer until I found a small flashlight
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and propped up in bed to read my book till
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I fell asleep. Sweet dreams.