The Evening Garden: An Enchanting Sleepy Escape

Visit an enchanting garden that comes alive at sunset. Beneath a canopy of Spanish moss and wisteria, explore hidden moonlit nooks, richly perfumed by luminous magnolia blossoms. Soulful jazz melodies echo across a marble fountain as you settle in a rattan tree swing beyond a trellis of pink mandevilla.

As sleep beckons, you return to a charming inn overlooking the garden, swept away by the enchanting spirit of the South. "The Evening Garden" offers a dreamy escape into a world where nature's beauty and human love create a sanctuary for the soul. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Nature's magic awaits in tonight's sleepy story for grown-ups.

You're listening to The Evening Garden,

A mystical escape to a garden that awakens each night at twilight.

Beneath a canopy of wisteria and Spanish moss,

Where a jazz trio plays softly by an antique fountain and fireflies flicker in the many nooks and rows,

Historic mansions and townhouses in an array of pastel hues with Juliet balconies bathed in lantern light surround the timeless gathering of souls.

The humid air buzzes with festive energy as you unwind in a moonlit tree swing After midnight,

You return to a lofty suite in a nearby mansion,

Where the sweet perfume of magnolia trees drifts through the open French doors,

Wrapping you in its nocturnal embrace.

Let the enchantment of the night guide you.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle,

Your friendly counterpart on this nightly journey to imaginative dreamscapes.

As you listen to a sleep story,

Let it unfold like a dream where the physical boundaries of your waking life no longer matter.

In this world,

You are resilient and strong,

Capable of transformative experiences crafted by your creative mind.

Surrender all doubt and get rid of judgment as you are swept away by the beauty of this life and this world.

Change any detail to suit your mood and revel in the freedom this sanctuary offers.

Give in to the undertow of sleep as it beckons you to revel in the restoration you deserve.

You have made it through another day,

And this time is just for you.

Let yourself settle into the sanctuary of your room and tap into the creative factory of idea-making that exists within your mind.

Turn your attention to your breath as you harness the power of conscious breathing.

You recognize how easy it is to transform your inner world.

Fold into the delicate softness of night as you engage with your breath at a pace that feels right to you,

Going as deep as you like.

Begin with an audible sigh,

An audible sigh,

Feeling everything that weighs you down escaping your lips,

Traveling far away to a place in this boundless universe where everything goes when it's no longer needed.

Sip in the tonic of the night air through your nose as your body expands and you welcome a sense of lightness that brings feelings of hope and endless possibilities.

After each inhalation,

You may hold your breath at the top or let it glide into a yawn before another sigh follows.

Continue this pattern three more times,

Alleviating yourself of any pressure or expectations.

Imagine the air in your room becomes cooler yet thick with humidity and the notes of jasmine,

Gardenia,

And magnolia.

The rich sultry perfumes of storied cities like Charleston,

Savannah,

And New Orleans.

Secrets are woven in this palpable change as your breath merges with it,

Bringing the promise of dreams about to unfold.

As you continue to inhale deeper each time,

Perhaps yawn and sigh,

Your body becomes heavier and your muscles melt like ice cubes in a mint julep on the perfect evening.

Surrender to the feeling of peace within and the connection to the world your imagination creates around you.

Your heart slows to meet the tempo of an easy,

Blissful night.

As your breath resumes its most natural rhythm,

More relaxed and serene than moments ago,

You are ready to embark on this tale.

Wealth is more subjective than we ever give it credit for.

There's the made-up kind,

With numbers and decimals existing somewhere in space,

Said to give value to things that matter.

Then there is the ever-present wealth that unfolds at its own pace,

Not seeking to be quantified or labeled.

It exists to simply exist,

And this kind of wealth and beauty is what feeds the soul of the night garden.

Long ago,

A man richer than he ever needed to be came to a realization that many never will.

All the items he acquired for stature and security did not make him much less vulnerable to Mother Nature's sleight of hand than the souls who would never achieve his level of success.

His dissatisfaction with his life of achievements unnerved him.

How dare he be so foolish as to doubt his own happiness,

Having become a leader in his industry.

Yet no accomplishment managed to awaken the joy and deep peace he found as a child,

Growing up barefoot in a shanty on a dirt road,

Far from the extravagances his life later afforded.

But beyond that unassuming three-room dwelling he once called home was a garden of wonder,

Tended to by the gentle hands of his mother.

Those ethereal hands often carried the sweet floral notes of her cherished blossoms,

Even as she manicured her hands with care,

Scraping remnants of the earth beneath her polished nails at sunset.

And when the hottest of summer days came to a close,

He would rest his head on her floral cotton dress as they swung together on a moonlit bench swing,

Fashioned from reclaimed wood and feathery rope,

And she would run her hands through his hair.

They would look to the stars for answers,

And she would wish for him to one day have an adventurous life,

Traveling the world,

And experiencing all the finest and fancy things she read about during her weekly trips to the modest library in town.

Her wishes became his wishes.

And after each one manifested into his reality,

His greatest wish was to go back to that well-worn swing that creaked in harmony with the relentless songs of the cicadas.

He would let his mother know that all the finest things in the world could not be compared with the magical summer nights in her garden.

Like the blossoms,

He would do all he could to receive her constant warmth.

And while a magnolia was in no rush to bloom,

He imagined it would be if it knew the love that awaited to be found in her delicate hands.

Although wealth in the world has yet to afford any one time travel,

And so he found a way to re-envision the past.

He created a garden of his own,

Open to anyone who wished to enter its wrought iron gates,

But in keeping with the spirit of his mother,

Who insisted on being left alone in her sanctuary during the day to tend to the earth and her budding babies.

The gates were only open to visitors,

From sundown to sunrise.

The sacred time of darkness gave one access to the luminosity of white magnolia petals and stargazer lilies that become iridescent in the lunar glow.

It heightened the uniqueness of a visit matched with a natural symphony of tree frogs,

Crickets,

And cicadas that served their welcome song as the gate doors clanked open each night and the gas lanterns flickered.

For over 60 years,

The Evening Garden has welcomed people from around the world.

Artists and poets,

Musicians and teachers,

Philanthropists,

Politicians,

And students.

Some travel with a destination in mind.

Some travel for parties and celebratory affairs,

And some travel for accidentally wander inside,

Left with the sense that maybe there is no such thing as an accident.

And like these fortunate souls who have experienced the Evening Garden,

You find yourself beneath its threshold on the cusp of summer,

Which the locals will declare is the best time to come.

It's a quiet night,

As quiet as nights ever are in the Evening Garden.

Quiet in the sense that those who enter beneath the canopy of wisteria as the hours unfold,

Come with a yearning for serenity.

Not here to party or to cause a stir.

Most guests keep to themselves.

Cordial glances and greetings are exchanged,

But everyone seems to be on a personal journey,

Longing to connect with the enchanting beauty around them.

Unhurried,

Unencumbered,

And untied to any world beyond the floral wonders that perfume the night.

The rich,

Saturated hues of twilight bleed into velvety shades of blue.

As you begin your exploration of the Night Garden,

You walk beneath a pergola of climbing,

Silvery lavender roses that shimmer against the dark canvas of night,

Taking on the luster of stars as the moon rises.

Lavender and chamomile in stone pots thrive in the dim light,

Their petals brushing against your fingertips as you wander past.

The lavender's blooms appear purple-black in the darkness,

Their scent more potent as the night deepens and delivers its sleep-inducing powers.

Fireflies come out,

Lighting up the different areas of the garden,

Bringing your attention to how much more there is to savor.

You walk beneath the magnolia trees,

Their branches curling up towards the sky in praise,

Coming low enough to reach without much effort.

The creamy white blossoms take on an otherworldly glow in the shimmering light of the nearly full moon.

Their large,

Waxy petals seem to capture and hold the phosphorescent light,

Reaching out like the palms of a grateful hand.

Each bloom releases a heady,

Sweet aroma that every Southerner knows,

And every visitor won't soon forget.

It's the perfume of slow Southern nights,

Spent on a veranda in quiet contemplation.

It's the nectar of gentility.

You continue and discover dozens of birds of paradise standing tall,

Even close up.

It's so hard to believe these mystical flowers are real.

Vivid pops of orange,

Scarlet,

And purple are transformed into mysterious dark shades.

As the wind rustles through the garden,

The flowers move like bird ornaments or origami birds.

Moonlight filters through the Spanish moss,

Casting intriguing shadows on the stone path that you follow.

The shadows dance with the breeze as you make out shapes along the way,

Passing by hand-carved wooden benches scattered throughout the garden,

Each resembling twisted trees and licorice sticks.

An older couple sits and holds hands on one of them,

Their white hair as luminous as the magnolia petals as they gently sway to the sounds of a jazz band that fills the garden.

Soft brushstrokes on a snare drum are joined by the persistent heartbeat of an upright bass as a trumpet carries a melody of longing.

The cicadas join in,

The crickets as well.

The music draws you in,

Leading you to a marble fountain that takes on an opal sheen.

Its centerpiece is a sculpture of angelic beauty,

Resembling the founder's mother,

Cupping a gardenia in her hand.

Her long,

Flowing dress fans out into the glistening pool of water that holds the wishes and dreams of pennies launched each night and left to lend their copper reflections.

Water droplets shimmer as they cascade from the fountain,

Catching the moonlight and creating tiny rainbows or moonbows in the mist.

These moonbows add a magical quality to the scene.

Each droplet a miniature prism that breaks the light into a spectrum of colors.

The persistent stream of splashing is a soothing counterpoint to the up-tempo jazz number that inspires a few garden visitors to dance beneath lanterns strung overhead.

You begin to move as well,

Subtly and without thought,

Alternating between the rhythm of the music and the night breeze.

And you find yourself lost between now and all the memories of times when a scent transported you to another memory.

Without effort,

Without conscious care,

Your mind kept these memories in the deep recesses of your mind,

Magically awakened by a familiar smell.

The scent of jasmine and gardenia transports you to a dream of the perfect night beneath the stars.

Perhaps something you read about or saw in a film or experienced yourself comes in waves of contentment that cause you to smile.

As the song ends,

You continue to explore and discover a secluded nook where healing herbs are planted in careful rows.

The scents of mint,

Sage,

And thyme blend,

Conjuring thoughts of being in a kitchen and enhancing a dish with their distinct flavors.

The tiny green leaves glisten with dew as you run your fingers across the fuzzy surface of a sage leaf.

You continue on and your feet crunch on a path of woodchips that leads you to a small pool of water that ripples in the breeze.

Water lilies float serenely,

Their delicate petals opening to the night,

Releasing a faint,

Sweet smell.

You continue on the path to discover a secluded nook where fireflies flicker around a mighty oak tree.

A tree swing hangs from its strongest branch,

Strung by a rope that glistens like angel hair.

You step beneath a white trellis,

Abundant with bright pink mandevilla flowers and skinny green vines.

The pink hues are softened by the kiss of moonlight.

The rattaned swing reminds you of an open birdcage as you settle into the ivory cushion.

The air is alive with the crescendoing sounds of cicadas,

Their rhythmic song blending seamlessly with the soulful strains of the jazz band.

But only the jazz band will be silenced at midnight.

While nature is permitted to carry on its song.

From the balconies of the historic homes that encircle the garden,

Murmurs of quiet conversations drift down along with the clinks of crystal glasses.

You continue to swing,

Remembering a time when your young feet would aim for the sky,

Feeling the exhilarating rush of air as your stomach rose into your throat.

But for right now,

You are more than happy to gently rock and sink into the comforts of the dome-shaped swing.

Moonlight filters through the trellis as a tuxedo cat slinks through the shadows.

And gently meows in your direction.

She settles atop a patch of earth beneath the dancing moonlight,

Watching you curiously.

As you swing ever so gently back and forth,

Your thoughts turn to the garden's founder and his mother.

You imagine them in the middle of nowhere,

With nothing but each other and the natural world around them.

Their bond was forged in the simplicity of beauty and nature beneath a vast starry sky in another place and time.

Yet you can sense their energy.

The shared love and sense of magic she bestowed upon her son that for decades has been shared with anyone who steps within the iron gates of the evening garden.

And as you continue to connect with the magic of the night,

You feel so very rich.

You close your eyes,

Letting the rhythm of the swing and the music of the night carry you away to brief thoughts of your own grand schemes and wishes.

Realizing that amid all the goals and all the tasks life sends your way,

Or at least the tasks you think you must do,

A moment like this is what truly brings a feeling of connection and inner peace.

The swing slows and you gently drag your feet to bring it to a stop.

You capture this moment,

Savoring it,

Filing it away,

And urging it to come to life.

When the fragrant perfume of a magnolia or gardenia finds you once more,

You appreciate the timelessness of it all and the ability to simply exist.

Nothing more is required of you.

The air becomes quite cooler,

Bringing your attention to a wave of sleepiness coming in.

You rise slowly,

Stretching your arms just beneath the moonlit trellis and let out a big yawn.

Every night at midnight,

The final song echoes through the garden.

Regardless of the musicians that play or the genre they excel in,

The haunting melody of blue gardenia may be heard.

A tradition honored since the garden gates first opened.

The song always reminded the founder of his mother,

Her presence lingering in every note that fills the night air,

Arousing thoughts of all the love stories that have been and could have been.

As the melody washes over you,

The tides of fatigue become heavier,

Guiding you through the back entrance of the garden.

You are met with manicured lawns and sprawling historic mansions painted in pastel shades of orange,

Baby blue,

And buttercream yellow.

You walk beneath flickering street lanterns as the lights within the mansions slowly dim.

The founder's original home has been fashioned into a charming inn,

Lovingly restored.

Ascending the steps to the back marble patio,

You pause beneath the Juliet balconies and peer out onto the garden once more,

Appreciating it from a new vantage point.

From the outside looking in,

You feel as if you've learned at least some of the garden's secrets on this night of discovery.

You step inside a library led by dimly lit sconces and the soft gauzy moonlight that pours through the dozens of window panes.

You walk along the walls of floor-to-ceiling books and exit into a foyer that leads to the grand wraparound staircase.

You ascend the stairs slowly and with care as your feet land on the soft carpet.

Once upstairs,

A wide corridor leads you to your bedroom suite.

The quietude indicates most guests have retired for the night.

You open the doors and step inside the magnolia suite,

This evening's home away from home.

The silvery light cascades through the tall windows,

Adding a shimmer to the magnolia-inspired silk wallpaper that meets ivory wainscotting.

A crystal chandelier hangs from the heart of the teal ceiling,

Surrounded by ivory crown molding.

The blend of chic modern amenities and antique furnishings in your suite creates a space both luxurious and timeless.

High ceilings bring heavenly loftiness.

The room is adorned with ornate vintage gold mirrors,

An elegant gold chaise lounge,

And a plush king-sized canopy bed.

You open the French doors,

Peering through the screens out onto a Juliet balcony with views of two magnolia trees below.

The cool breeze circulates through the room as you step into the ensuite and enjoy a steamy shower in a clawfoot tub.

Handcrafted magnolia soap creates a lush lather filling the room with its rich,

Soothing scent.

The warm water penetrates your most tired muscles,

Preparing them to surrender to the deep rest they have earned.

You linger for another moment beneath the soothing pressure of the brass gold rain showerhead.

You inhale deeply as water streams down your lips and as they turn up in a smile so deeply appreciative of this special night.

Stepping out of the tub,

You wrap yourself in a plush towel and dry off.

You bury your face into the fresh linen and then change into satin pajamas,

A gift every guest at the inn receives.

You return to the bedroom and peel back the covers.

Climbing under the coolest sheets you've ever encountered.

The weight of the duvet comforts you as you revel in an immediate sense of luxury.

The fragrance of magnolia travels on the breeze.

As the wind gently stirs the sheer white curtains in a ghostly dance around the open French doors.

As your eyelids become heavy and close,

Stories from the evening stir in your mind.

And before you slip beneath the trellis to sleep,

You feel the love of a mother,

The love of a gardener,

The love of a beautiful soul who understood that wealth is meant to be shared.

In this precious moment,

You could not feel more wealthy.

The nocturnal sounds of the garden,

The soft hum of blue gardenia still echoing in your mind,

And the fragrant air from the magnolia trees.

As you give in to the gift of slumber,

Finding peace,

Finding bliss,

Finding serenity,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.

Reviews

I was asleep before the end. The description & details were so vivid I felt like I was there. Thank you, Michelle, for another wonderful sleep story.

Splendid .Wil have to listen again as I drifted into a woneful sleep.❤️

Michelle, this has to be one of my favourite bedtime stories! I love 💕 your enchanting details and soothing voice plus music 🎶 & songbirds at the end. I fell asleep quickly and didn’t wake until the alarm went off! I had to listen to it again as l missed so much of the story! I absolutely loved the gardening theme. Made me think of one of my favourite books; The Last Garden in England by Julia Kelly. You could add this one to your library of amazing short stories! Definitely on my repeat list! Thank you kindly for another wonderful creative story! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

We drove The Trace last year through southern states, I can easily imagine your beautiful images
Thanks Michelle

Very soothing didn’t hear the end as fell asleep thank you once again x