The Snow Day | Winter Sleep Story

Snow days are not just for kids. A wise soul once said, "When it snows you have two choices-- shovel or make snow angels." Tonight we make snow angels. Journey back to the 1980s to Honey Brook, a village where kindness is cherished. Spend the morning with your neighbor and his son sledding down Cranberry Hill. The spontaneity of a snow day is cherished as it unfolds with fun and relaxation. You nap as the snow falls, cuddling with your beloved cat. So get cozy. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

You deserve a cozy restful sleep tonight.

In this sleep story,

Venture to a snowy landscape designed for fun and adventures.

You're listening to The Snow Day.

In this bedtime story for grownups,

Enjoy the spontaneous adventures that unfold when Mother Nature gifts the village of Honeybrook with a snow day set in the 1980s.

Enjoy a nostalgic journey to an era that celebrated riding a wave of emotions and having fun.

All responsibilities are put on hold and you are given the freedom of a child to explore and play in a picturesque village.

Sleigh riding,

Icicles,

Snow angels,

And hot cocoa dreams await.

After a splendid day,

You cuddle up and fall asleep with your pet cat in a state of contentment and peace.

It's time to dream away.

I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle and as you listen,

Imagine my voice is the voice of a trusted friend and nurturing ally.

I am here to remind you of all the wonderful things that may unfold with your imagination.

There is a sanctuary within you that you may nurture each night to help unwind.

In this refuge,

You are disconnected from the outside world and able to explore feelings and thoughts that make you feel good.

You are free to customize this experience in a way that best suits you.

You are the expert in what works for you and you may trust yourself implicitly.

You are welcome to let go of my voice at any point and surrender to sleep if it beckons.

When you immerse yourself in a story,

You reconnect with your creative powers.

Let these beautiful possibilities usher you into your dreaming life.

You may skip ahead to the story or enjoy a brief breathing meditation to set the tone for this journey.

Your breath is your vehicle and the best device you have to connect you with your body.

It is the one function of your organs that may be voluntarily or involuntarily controlled.

Take this moment and prepare your body by doing a scan.

Send waves of relaxation to places of tension and holding.

Prepare your inner sanctuary.

Imagine it as a bucolic landscape completely designed by you.

And as you visualize the sanctuary within you,

Take in a deep breath.

Feel your belly and feel your torso expand.

Fields of oxygen travel throughout your interior world with a singular message.

Surrender.

Open your mouth into a big yawn and release your breath in a sigh.

You are safe to yawn and let your body know it is time for sleep.

Escher in another deep,

Healing breath.

Your body expands until you feel full.

Until you surrender.

You yawn and then sigh.

Make a sound if it feels good and heightens your experience.

Relish this time to stand down and cater to your needs.

Your needs matter.

You deserve to have a bedtime routine that is just for you.

You may take in another breath,

Enjoy another yawn,

And then blow out the air through pursed lips.

Notice how addictive it can be to yawn and sigh and let go.

Observe how much more relaxed you feel right now than when we first began.

In the state of relaxation and comfort,

Your guard comes down and freedom fuels your imagination.

And it is time for the story to begin.

Snow is a magical thing when encountered for the first time.

And while most of us may not remember our first snow,

And some of us may have yet to experience it,

We may live on vicariously through watching children and animals experience it for the first time.

For some,

The joy and excitement continue throughout a lifetime.

Even an old dog may bury its nose in a sparkling snow drift and run around in unexpected bursts of youthful energy.

As if rejuvenated and renewed by winter's magic,

They become a puppy once again.

In the village of Honeybrook on a January night in 1986,

Children go to bed anticipating a snow day.

Some dare to skip their homework as their tiny inner compasses sound off in whispers that school will be canceled come morning.

The enchantment of a snow day is rooted in its spontaneous nature,

An unexpected holiday speckled within a weekly routine of mundanity.

They awaken in the morning to mounds of untouched snow,

In confirmation that they are in tune with their intuition and the workings of Mother Nature.

The 1980s represent a vibrant time where it's okay to celebrate the diverse array of human emotions through songs and pop culture.

It's okay to be a little cheesy if it feels okay.

Pop ballads and happy pop tunes range from sentimental to absurd.

Sitcoms and shows sell family values and tug at heartstrings,

Balancing silly hijinks with life lessons and powerful bonds.

And the anticipation of a quickly evolving digital age teems with excitement in an era that still makes it easy to completely disconnect.

And there is beauty and respite in disconnection from technology,

Particularly on a snow day.

You find yourself tucked in a warm bed in the early hours of a snowy morning.

The curtains are drawn and the room is illuminated by the soft amber glow of an alarm clock radio.

You awaken a few minutes before the alarm sounds and you turn it off with a sense of ease.

It always feels nice to wake up on your own rather than to the startling beep stirring you from morning dreams.

The console of the clock is made of wood and you run your hand across the smooth grains and find the knob to turn on the radio.

Static accompanies the voice of a radio announcer from a local station who informs listeners that all schools are closed and to avoid traveling on unplowed county roads.

In Victorian homes and tiny cottages throughout the village,

Children tune in to the same broadcast and jump up and down.

Some cry out I told you so to their siblings,

Feeling the sweet taste of victory when they run outside to catch snowflakes on their tongues.

Sleazy-eyed kids stop the motions of their morning routines.

Some met with pause about what happens next.

You are met with a similar pause as you wonder about how the day will unfold.

Today's snow day brings a timeless gift,

Enjoyed by all who dare to claim it.

And even without plans,

You make a promise to embrace whatever unfolds.

You nestle beneath your thick comforter and sink your head into your pillows for a while longer.

Your cat is happily curled in a ball at your feet.

Their fluffy tail is nestled beneath their chin and they begin to purr as they awaken.

Their small body keeps your feet warm on wintry days and the soft vibrations of their purring soothe you.

Your cat awakens and stretches their legs and paws out as they begin to knead at your feet.

You enjoy this brief massage and whisper their name.

They stand and walk on the thick cloud-like comforter and place their front paws on your chest as they arch their back.

You scratch your cat's chin and you both relish the tempo of the morning.

It is a relaxed and lazy start that you both cherish in this moment.

Luxuriating and snug in your bed,

Unaware of how much of the morning has slipped away,

Curiosity causes you to rise and step your feet into plush slippers on the side of the bed.

You walk to the bedroom windows and draw the curtains to look out on a winter wonderland.

The dark brown and grey skeleton trees are now covered in a thick white blanket of snow.

A dozen icicles dangle from the edge of the roof and drip down like the inverted pipes of a church organ.

The pristine snow has an icy blue tint from the steely clouds that linger in the sky.

Large flurries fall,

Their celestial shapes are as intricate as vintage lace doilies passed down through generations.

You hear the hum and gravelly sound of a snowplow that clears slush and snow from Main Street.

The storm dropped over a foot of fresh snow and as if reading your mind,

The radio announcer declares that flurries and snow squalls are expected throughout the day.

You grab your bathrobe from a hook on the door and put it on.

You wrap the belt around you securely and as you tie it,

It feels like a comforting hug around your waist.

The gravelly voice of Tina Turner comes on the radio and you leave it playing softly in the background.

You walk down the hallway towards the kitchen to prepare a hot breakfast.

The home is designed in timeless decor to your preferences.

It smells distinctly like a home you love to visit at some time in your life.

You may not be able to describe the aromatic notes or even recall many details,

But the deep parts of your subconscious mind are comforted by this fragrance.

The sounds of your hissing radiator are soon matched by the sizzling sounds of your favorite breakfast foods being cooked on a gas range.

Your cat rubs against your legs as you prepare their food and set it on the floor.

The kitchen opens out into a dining area and living room covered in wall to wall carpet and through the sheer curtains in the living room,

You see your neighbor Marshall and his son clear the path to your door with fire engine red shovels.

Brings a smile to your face as you settle down to enjoy your breakfast.

Charlie the neighbor's boy is almost seven and often stops by to say hello.

He's a natural born helper,

A trait he inherited from his dad.

They exemplify the neighborly feeling of Honeybrook.

The villagers live up to its saccharine namesake.

The historic village was once a refuge for outcasts,

Artists,

And original thinkers driven by kindness.

Those who came and settled in Honeybrook rarely wanted to leave.

A fifth generation artist in the village designed a welcome sign that was voted on by everyone in town from children to seniors.

The hand carved sign was made from a fallen maple tree and depicts the historic Honeybrook Bridge.

Atop the bridge it reads,

Welcome to Honeybrook.

And in the rippling waters of a painted brook,

The artist inscribed the message,

Be kind or be gone.

Kindness is infectious in the village.

It's a badge of honor that dampens cynicism and softens the voices of critics.

Because at the end of the day everyone in Honeybrook wants to feel good and most of the souls living there are comfortable and content with their lives.

So there is no room for judgment or comparisons to others.

As much as you welcome the help from your neighbor and son,

You just as much look forward to the opportunity to do something for them in return.

You finish your breakfast just as they finish shoveling the path.

You walk to the front door and open it to thank them.

The cold air feels good against your face and you inhale the fragrance of clean snow and wood smoke.

You offer them something warm to drink,

But Marshall says they had a big breakfast.

Charlie invites you to join them in Cranberry Park for some sleigh riding.

Without any consideration,

You emphatically say yes.

This day will unfold without overthinking.

It's a day meant for fun.

And while they return to their garage to gather the sleds,

You return to your bedroom to dress for the day.

Your cat follows you and hops onto the window sill to watch the snow continue to fall.

The cat bats at the window,

Chirping at the big flakes that scatter across the glass.

You fluff the pillows and make your bed.

And not seconds later does the cat fly across the room and settle in the heart of the mattress,

Ready to sleep the morning away.

A wintry song plays on the radio and the broadcast sound is as fuzzy and soft as the sweater you pull from your wardrobe.

The sweater is far from fashionable,

But it is the warmest and plushest article of clothing in your closet.

You dress in two pairs of socks and wear thermal pants beneath a pair of ski pants in your favorite color.

Whenever you dress in this color,

You feel content and calm.

You go to the foyer and bundle in a thick scarf before putting on your parka hat and gloves.

As you prepare to step into the frozen landscape of the other side of the door,

You are thankful for the comforts of your winter attire.

Not too bulky,

The article swirms perfectly around your body.

You can move with grace,

Unlike the young tots who teeter on the sidewalk in clothes so puffy and overstuffed they resemble the Pillsbury doughboy.

You say goodbye to your cat out of habit,

Though they are in a dream filled to sleep and do not hear you as you set out for a morning in the snow.

Marshall and Charlie stand at the end of your walkway with beaming smiles and rosy cheeks.

Your boots grip the salt-dusted sidewalk.

Charlie hands you a round sled.

You offer to help carry his sled as well,

As you make your way towards the heart of the town and Cranberry Park.

The townhouses and Victorian homes of the historic village are like a box of pastel crayons in shades of mint green,

Daffodil yellow,

Plum,

Elephant gray,

Bubblegum pink and baby blue.

Snow covers the gabled roofs and colorful shutters like a thick coating of vanilla frosting.

Older kids run through the village with their sleds,

Eager to be the first to christen Cranberry Hill.

A black Labrador Retriever charges ahead of them and a race begins.

The children's puffy coats and snow pants flash through the pristine white backdrop in vibrant celebratory hues that mark the 80s.

Cobalt blue,

Salmon pink,

Teal,

Royal purple and navy outerwear is embellished with wide yellow,

Orange and tomato red stripes.

The colors represent the boldness and extremes celebrated by pop culture.

A green pickup truck sputters by,

With its window cracked down slightly to defog the front windshield.

A rock ballad plays on the radio and the mournful cries of an electric guitar carry out onto the street.

The torrid song adds to the soundtrack of whistling wind and the happy cheers of children that declare,

It's snow day,

Taking on the roles of town criers for anyone still left sleeping.

Charlie struggles to balance in his puffy vinyl boots and his father grabs hold of his hand to steady him.

He walks past the local library and post office,

Historic stone buildings covered in snow and dripping with icicles.

They look straight out of vintage postcards.

On weekdays,

Retired seniors form a breakfast club and they are often the sole patrons at the local diner.

But on the surprise snow day,

The vinyl booths and counter overflow with families and kids who walk to the diner to enjoy pancakes,

Belgian waffles and western omelettes.

A bell rings when the early birds exit the diner and a warm gush of air carries the sweet smell of maple syrup,

Melted butter,

Danishes and coffee.

The friendly faces greet you by name and you feel a wave of warmth radiate from your heart.

It feels good to be part of a community.

You pass by the general store,

Run by the same family for over 60 years.

Holiday lights illuminate the storefront display of dangling hearts made of scarlet and pink crepe paper and red velvet heart shaped boxes filled with locally made chocolates sold for Valentine's Day.

Main Street ends in Cranberry Park.

White snow dapples the icy blue pond and villagers clear the last piles of snow in order to skate.

A wooden gazebo that hosts weddings and live musical performances in warmer months now offers a dry refuge.

The older kids have made it to the top of Cranberry Hill.

They squeal as they slide down the sleds and create squiggling paths in the untouched snow.

You walk up the hill and feel a soft burn in your legs as the snow crunches beneath your boots.

Your body radiates heat that remains inside your thick layers of clothing.

While the temperature is well below freezing,

You are warm and comfortable.

You feel good.

You welcome the nippy air that causes your nose to tingle as it warms the air with each inhalation before it reaches your lungs.

Snowflakes fall on your cheeks and eyelashes and melt.

Atop the hill,

Lush needle branches and pine cones of evergreen trees succumb to the weight of the snow and droop towards the earth.

The smell of pine pitch and needles marries the metallic smell of fresh snow.

You position Charlie's sleigh and steady him into its orange plastic belly.

He grabs onto the yellow ropes with his mittened hands and looks to you with innocent,

Loving eyes.

He whispers thank you as you give him a gentle push and he soars down the hill.

His whispers become cheers for himself all the way.

You are touched by his youthful confidence and hope he continues to be his best cheerleader throughout life.

Part of you wonders why all children aren't inspired to be their own cheerleaders.

Then you realize the same rings true for adults.

Everyone deserves a loving environment where they get to be the best advocate for themselves.

Snow follows after his son and you watch him fly down the hill.

Charlie stands at the bottom and cheers for his dad.

The snow absorbs the sound of his tender voice and his mitten soften his exuberant claps.

But one need not hear him in order to feel his persistent enthusiasm.

The snow sled slows to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

The father and son look at you and rally you on.

You position yourself in the saucer shaped sled.

It's impossible to remember the last time you rode down a hill in a sleigh.

You must have passed the very same sled sold at Frank's hardware store in the village.

A dozen times this winter,

Without once considering you would be riding on one.

Enter the spontaneity of a snow day.

This unexpected gift inspires you to step out of the familiar and into the fun.

You wrap your fingers around the sled's edges and look at the silvery blue clouds.

You take in a deep breath to savor this moment.

You glide the sleigh down the hill and feel the fresh powder pack down beneath the plastic sleigh.

You feel free as if you are flying.

And you smile so broadly that the muscles below your cheekbones burn.

You laugh and feel the breeze against your face.

You taste snowflakes that land and melt on your tongue.

Pure elation is something you wish you could revisit again and again.

In this moment there are no thoughts of yesterday or concerns about tomorrow.

You are square in the middle of the magical now.

This snow day has conjured an awakening from the autopilot motions of your day to day existence.

The feeling of being present is addictive and relived with each time you climb up the hill with Charlie and Marshall and soar down it again.

After your last pass,

You walk towards the gazebo to a field of untouched snow.

The snow rises above your knees and one by one you fall backwards into the snow and flutter your arms and legs to make snow angels.

You look to the sky and watch the snowflakes gracefully travel in the wintry air and their smallness lovingly reminds you of your own smallness in the scheme of an infinite universe.

The afternoon arrives and you invite Marshall and Charlie to your home for soup and hot cocoa.

On the walk back,

A snowball fight breaks out on Elm Street between a dozen kids.

The village streets have been plowed.

Snowbanks pile high on the edges of white lawns and the young revelers use them to form tunnels and forts where they take cover and store their prized collections of perfectly formed snowballs.

Snowmen pop up in front of the Victorian homes and Cape Cod cottages.

Dressed in flashy neon scarves and felt fedoras,

You lead your neighbors into your warm home and they shed their wet clothing and boots in the foyer.

You remove your coat,

Hat and scarf and offer up the hissing radiator as a place to dry everyone's socks and gloves.

Charlie instantly is on the lookout for your cat,

Who he discovers in the living room nestled by a heater.

They are gentle with one another and your cat sniffs at Charlie's nose,

Tickling him with their whiskers.

Marshall settles on the couch and you go to the kitchen to prepare hot cocoa and a pot of Campbell's soup.

You fill a basket with saltine crackers and place it on a kitchen counter beneath a wall of windows looking out on the village.

You fill tiny glass bowls with canned fruit cocktail.

In no time the teapot is boiling.

You grab a tin of international coffee as cappuccino and spoon the powdery mix into two mugs for you and Marshall and then empty a packet of Swiss Misc Coco into a cup for Charlie.

You splash some half and half into the mugs for extra creaminess.

You pour the steaming water into the cups and inhale the sweet aromas.

You top off the drinks with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

You ladle the soup into bowls and your neighbors join you to help set the counter with soup spoons and napkins.

You turn on the radio in the kitchen and a popular ballad with a saxophone solo offers a soundtrack for your meal.

You enjoy the hot liquids alternating between salty and sweet as they fill your bellies and satiate you.

You cleanse your palates with syrupy diced pears,

Pineapple,

Peaches,

Grapes and cherries.

The fruit is so soft it melts on your tongue.

It has been a day of simple pleasures.

And after you have polished off this basic yet satisfying lunch,

Marshall is the first to yawn and Charlie follows.

It is the perfect day for a long nap.

Your neighbors offer to help clean up and Charlie brings a step stool to the sink as you fill it with soapy water on one side.

The young boy is proud to help and washes the dishes while you rinse them and Marshall towels them dry.

The snow falls heavily outside the window and the wind picks up,

Whistling through the village.

After cleaning up,

Marshall and Charlie outfit themselves in their winter attire that is now dry.

You remove your socks from the radiator and place them on your feet,

Relishing the warmth.

You say goodbye and promise to do this again soon.

Something tugs at your heart and you know that this day was rare and will not be repeated in the same way.

You cherish it for its uniqueness.

The numbness from the cold is now replaced with a tired,

Relaxed feeling in your body.

Your muscles feel like jelly.

Your bones feel heavy.

You walk to your bedroom,

Ready to drift to sleep.

The fluidity of the day means you may sleep as long as you desire.

Darkness sets in early and like the dreamers of the middle ages,

You may resort to a biphasic night of sleep,

Drifting to sleep for as long as feels right.

Knowing if you awaken,

A night of healing sleep will follow.

Your cat is at your heels as you enter your bedroom and draw back the covers.

You strip down to your thermals and climb into the bed.

You snuggle together and find yourself savoring this rare winter treat,

Cuddling with your cat late in the afternoon and dreaming away.

The howling winds and the staccato patter of snow against the glass usher you towards sleep.

The contrast of the winter weather enhances the pleasure you find in your dry,

Warm bed as you sink deeper and deeper into the luxury of this moment.

Your chest rises,

Your ribs expand and press against your purring cat and you sigh,

Letting go and surrendering,

Drifting towards a dreamy sleep.

Still feeling the sensation of gliding down the snowy hill again and again.

Your muscles remember the feeling of freedom and transition,

The same transition your mind now enjoys as it surrenders to silence.

And I am going to count you down to a night of healing,

Restorative sleep.

Ten,

Nine,

Eight,

Seven,

Six,

Five,

Four,

Three,

Two,

One.

Finding bliss,

Finding peace,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.

Reviews

I fell asleep before story ended' this happens often with your stories that I have not heard yet. Linda- so I listen to them again

A

Thank you, Michelle🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻I just keep on falling asleep very quickly. Yesterday morning, I almost heard the full story, and it keeps on amazing me, one thing after another, that I had not captured it before. Brings up great memories. This night for sure, I thought I would hear it all: no such luck. It is really working, as do many of your stories. Immensely grateful!🙏🏻😴🙏🏻😴🙏🏻😴🙏🏻

What a fun snow day & I felt like I was actually there. I finally heard the entire story this morning, after three tries at night, because it relaxed me so much that I kept falling asleep. Thank you for another wonderful story.

I never get far into my sweet snow day before falling asleep. I remember the music is lovely. Thank you, Michelle!❄🙏❤❄

Relaxing, beautiful stories. Very effective for helping me fall asleep.

What a wonderful story, beautifully written and told. Well up to your usual high standard. 😁👍