Autumn Gold At The Lake Chalet | Deep Sleep Story

Fall asleep fast and relax deeply in tonight's bedtime story and guided sleep meditation.

You are listening to Autumn Gold,

A sleep story set at a lake chalet in Vermont.

Travel to a picturesque community during the Autumn Equinox where you spend the afternoon at a local farm walking through fields of sunflowers.

At sunset you enjoy an end of season celebration on a lake,

Welcoming in fall with beloved owners of the general store,

Martha and Ike.

You return to your chalet for a night of deep,

Healing sleep enhanced by the crisp Autumn air.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle Sanctuary.

I am Michelle and as you listen,

Let my voice guide you like a dear friend.

I am your sleep and comfort advocate.

You deserve to shut off the noise of the outside world and save all your concerns for another time.

Thoughts often race in the stillness of the night,

But with practice at every bedtime routine,

Thoughts may become tickets to imaginative landscapes that soothe.

In the sanctuary of your room,

Your body,

And your mind,

Get the snuggliest and coziest you have been all day.

Savor the tactile aspects of this time.

The softness of your pillows and bed,

The feeling of your bedding against your skin.

Feel gratitude for the safety of the walls around you.

In the sacred place,

You are free to let down your guard and open yourself to the sublime.

You set the tone right now for the hours of sleep and dreams that await.

Shift your attention to your breath in this brief guided meditation.

Often the air in your room is aromatized by the dwindling perfume of summer and the sweet crisp air of fall.

Sunflowers,

Pine trees,

Sweet earth,

And a fresh water lake create an intoxicating fragrance that transports you to a deeper state of relaxation.

Sigh,

Graciously and without concern.

Every exhale you take this evening is another opportunity to surrender and let go.

When your lungs are empty,

Inhale the sweet night air slowly through your nose.

Inch by inch your belly and chest expand.

You feel boundless,

Buoyant,

And free.

Open your mouth and yawn.

Signal that you are primed for sleep.

Sigh,

Let go,

Surrender,

Sink into your bed.

Inhale again at the pace that feels right to you.

As you breathe in,

You consider the idea that this oxygen heals you.

It soothes you,

Each unseen molecule traveling to places in your body,

Longing to feel good and relaxed.

Yawn again and let the air flow out in a sigh,

Sinking down,

Down,

Down.

Follow this pattern one more time.

Adjust to what feels right at this moment.

Every moment is different.

Inhale safe as security brings your creative mind the power to imagine better and beyond your current reality.

Come to stillness and note how much more relaxed you feel than moments ago.

Return your breath to normal.

Every breath through the night helps you drift on waves of restorative peace.

It's time for the story to begin.

Golden topaz rays of sunlight become richer around the autumn equinox,

Pouring over lake reverie like orange blossom honey.

The air is as sweet as molasses,

The scent brought on by the breakdown of sugars and decaying leaves.

The shoulder season brings leaf peepers on the weekends,

But weekdays are quiet as the population dwindles and children return to school.

Yellow school buses replace the traffic of summer visitors on rural roads that wind around the lake over rolling hills like graphite streams.

The weather is fickle in Vermont this time of year,

And the evidence of autumn appears here earlier than other states along the eastern seaboard.

In the afternoon sun,

Your skin is kissed by the warmth of summer,

But come nightfall,

Temperatures edge around welcoming a late night frost.

You explore the grounds of Clover Meadows,

A local dairy farm with apple orchards,

Corn bases,

Pumpkin patches,

And sunflower fields.

You walk along the perimeter of towering sunflowers that arc towards the sun as if the blazing orb is there to teach them something they want to hear.

Their hearty green stems are the thickest and strongest they will be,

And their full blooms tower over you by a foot or two.

Sunflowers in full bloom and their lush dark green leaves blanket the rolling meadows for as far as the eye can see.

The brown centers are like plush brown velvet cushions,

And butter yellow petals evoke thoughts of happiness and sunshine.

Wispy white clouds drift across a vibrant blue sky,

Guided by a breeze that carries the coolness of fall.

You walk through the sunflower fields with your arms guiding the handlebars of a vintage bike that you push along.

You inhale deeply,

Enchanted by the sunflower's magnificent height and almost saddened that soon their season will end.

They susserate in the soft wind,

Whispering a promise they will return again.

You've lived through enough seasons to know that everything returns again,

Sometimes in the form you remember,

And sometimes remarkably changed.

A dirt path leads you around the sunflower fields,

Towards a paved road that cuts through the rolling hills and leads to the main farmhouse.

You hop up on the banana seat and ride the bike downhill as the wind sweeps against your skin and makes you feel alive.

You soar,

Smiling with the same sense of freedom you first felt when you mastered riding a bike and used the momentum to pedal up the next incline.

At the highest point you can see the pumpkin patches and fields of corn that ripple on the wind like straw-hued waves.

A maze winds through the stalks,

And from your vantage point you can make out the many dead ends and exit points to the corn maze.

A young black Labrador runs around the porch of a rustic farmhouse painted buttercream yellow.

A few patches of paint peel away from the façade,

Adding charm to the 19th century dwelling.

You ride beyond the farmhouse and apple orchards,

Recently open to the public for picking.

Macintosh empires,

Fuji,

Crispin and Red Delicious apples add pops of pink,

Yellow,

Green and red that shine like dangling ornaments from the Verdon branches.

Fallen apples scatter across the grass like a storybook illustration.

You stop to pick enough apples to fill the middle basket on your bike with your favorite varietals.

Your hand grasps the spherical fruit,

And you pull strongly to snap the stems from the branches.

The apples are cool and firm in your hand,

And you are more aware of the visual details of these apples than you normally would be.

You notice the way the vibrant hues of the shiny skin blend together,

Dappled with tiny green and red dots.

You notice how the stems curl,

Some retaining a leaf or two.

In this moment,

You wish you could capture the constant stream of beautiful imagery encountered at the farm with brush strokes of oil paint on canvas.

You ride your bike to the farm stand near the barn,

Where Lucy,

The matriarch of the family,

Rests in a rocking chair and noshes on an apple while finishing a crossword puzzle.

She has spent most of her 85 years on this farm,

Teaching her siblings,

Her children,

Grandchildren and great-grandchildren how to peel an apple in one piece with a paring knife,

How to make apple cider and doughnuts,

How to tend to the cows,

The dogs and puppies,

The ducks and chickens,

And how to love this small piece of Vermont with all their hearts.

With one glance,

Lucy can guess the weight of the apples,

And you trust her judgment when she quotes you the price.

She sells you on a mason jar of caramel dip she made fresh from the cream milked from the cows earlier in the week that will pair perfectly with the apples.

You thank Lucy and pay her.

As you do,

She offers for you to come spend a day at the farm next time,

And she'll learn you a few things.

You smile,

Confident that one day you just might.

You've promised to meet Martha and Ike at the general store.

Each year they host a family gathering at their lakeside home to make the most of unsold items from the summer season.

This is the first year you've been invited,

And feel honored to be part of a community that thrives throughout the quieter seasons and harsh winter months.

The locals know Lake Reverie in a different way.

With generations of family members who came before them and built the town,

They have a deep sense of pride and loyalty.

You get on your bike and ride on Farm to Market Road to the main highway.

You paddle along the wide shoulder beneath a canopy of changing trees.

The greens have begun to fade,

And bands of gold,

Orange,

Red,

And magenta create an ombra effect.

The sun filters through the clouds,

And you welcome the reprieve of the shade.

Your body is warm from riding,

Your muscles feel strong and capable.

Every breath comes with ease.

Deeper and more purposeful,

The closer you get to the general store.

The air has a familiar smell that always takes you back to fond memories at the Lake Chalet.

You revel in the wonders of the olfactory hub,

And how vulnerable you are to the power of smell as memories filed away and seemingly forgotten come to life.

Whenever this happens,

You recognize how your body is a remarkable library,

Keeping track of every detail of your journey in places in your body with conscious effort.

You think of the millions of things your body does for you to enjoy this beautiful September day.

A monarch butterfly flutters over the tall blades of emerald grass that border the shoulder of the highway.

It follows you,

Hovering over your shoulder.

The velvety creature is full of vitality that will be needed to migrate south for the winter.

Its voyage is coming soon.

It flies around you as if to say goodbye and then disappears into the woods.

A white-haired man in a green flannel shirt drives by in an old blue pickup truck and waves at you as if you're longtime friends.

His eyes glitter in the late afternoon light and evoke kindness.

The longtime residents of Lake Reverie look out for one another like family and revel in the autumnal activities to be found in Vermont.

Halloween decorations come out the last week of September,

And the month is celebrated with hayrides,

Costume parades,

Lakeside bonfires,

And an autumn fair where locals compete to use apples to create new recipes.

As your mind drifts from one Reverie to the next of autumn splendor,

You ride up to the General Store to meet Martha and Dyke.

Soulful music plays through the open screen door of the rustic wooden building.

There are a few times one can enter the General Store and not hear an uplifting tune.

More often than not,

Dyke and Martha can be seen dancing around the shop.

You arrive just in time to help them with boxes overflowing with summer favorites,

Items to barbecue,

And glow sticks and sparklers.

Cinnamon brooms,

Pumpkins,

And corn stalks decorate the store and aromatize the dry,

Warm air.

You come into the store so many times that Martha treats you as if you were her own child or grandchild.

You help Dyke with the boxes,

And she playfully pats him on the rear to speed up.

He says in 61 years of marriage,

She's been the secret to keeping him sharp and agile.

Travel and dirt crunch beneath your feet as you walk on the driveway,

And Dyke leads you around to the back of his truck.

You pile the boxes into the bed of the vehicle,

And he offers you a ride to their cabin.

You politely decline,

More out of habit than disinterest,

To find Martha pushing your bike towards the truck with a determined smile.

You know well enough that Martha tends to make the rules,

And it doesn't bother you much because it comes from a place of care.

She has the rugged delivery and spirit of Catherine Hepburn at times,

Her voice often taking on a Bryn Mawr accent whenever proving her point.

Within minutes the bike is stowed,

And you are seated between Martha and Dyke,

Jostling with each bump on the rural road to their home.

You ride beneath a canopy of pine trees and balsam fir.

Minty evergreen perfume travels through the open windows of the truck as it comes to Dyke and Martha's property.

Dyke pulls up to the side of the cabin and parks.

Their property offers the most breathtaking vantage point on the lake for sunset.

The sun pours a beacon of light across the heart of the glassy lake.

Vibrant streaks of pineapple yellow,

Candy pink,

Turquoise and mauve paint the sky.

The lake is a mirror and doubles the beauty of sunset skies.

Martha and Dyke exit the truck and you follow behind them.

The three of you pause to take in the beauty of sunset as a loon's song echoes across the water,

Letting you know it also bears witness to the special moment.

Water gets chirp and dragonflies take flight across the lake,

Creating an occasional ripple on the placid water.

The sun disappears beyond the horizon,

And the sky remains vibrant for another hour as you join Dyke and Martha's kids and grandchildren on a deck overlooking the lake.

Rainbow silk lanterns hang from wooden beams around the deck,

Illuminating the gathering in a glow as warm and colorful as the conversation and energy.

Laurel,

Who you met this summer for the first time,

Helps the grandchildren set the table.

Citronella candles flicker in its center,

Warding off mosquitoes with a strong citrusy aroma.

You help unload the truck in a few trips and bring items to Dyke and his son Dyke Jr.

At the grill.

The rhythm of the gathering is natural and intuitive.

With the flow of people who have gathered many times before and know their roles and what they can contribute,

You could not feel more welcome.

And observing them is as entertaining as watching a 1980s family sitcom.

Dinner is soon served,

And everyone gathers around a wooden table that has served the family for over 50 years and can seat as many as 16 people.

Every object in this cabin could tell a story,

And this table has memories stored in its wood grains.

You can feel the energy of love that transpired over candlelit dinners overlooking Lake Reverie.

Of the dozens of selections on the table to eat,

The sweet charred smell of grilled sweet potatoes lingers most in the air.

Every time you smell this fragrance again,

You will be brought back to this familial gathering and the last warm night of the year.

Sounds of laughter and conversation from the dinner travel across the lake and echoes.

Lake Reverie doubles the sonic beauty of the night as it magnifies the visual splendor of the sky and changing trees that reflect on the water.

Sliced apples with Lucy's warmed caramel sauce are served to everyone's delight.

Once everyone is satiated,

The family pitches in and you help them so the clean up takes little time at all.

Silver stars scatter across a midnight blue sky,

Reflecting on the lake in the company of a crescent moon.

Martha and Ike's son and grandchildren run across the hill that leads to the lake with sparklers in hand that create white gold streaks through the darkness.

Martha and Ike's love story could inspire the most cynical minds and broken hearts.

For over 60 years they chose one another and did it happily.

They have built a legacy that lights up the evening with sparklers and laughter.

Ike's strong calloused hand wraps around Martha's slender,

Veiny fingers as you ask how they first fell in love.

Martha talks about the summer of 1956,

When a group of kids from school celebrated the end of the school year,

Running full speed into the lake and swimming in their clothes.

Ike stayed on the shore and the color left his face in what she recognized as terror.

She came out of the water and talked to him,

As other schoolmates teased him and splashed water.

From that day on early each morning,

Before their shifts at their summer jobs began,

Martha patiently and lovingly got Ike more comfortable with the lake and taught him how to swim.

It would take two months before he let the water come above his knees,

But with the promise of a kiss,

By early September they would canoe across the lake and swim in a cove together.

They were inseparable after that summer and married a year later,

Jumping into the lake in their wedding clothes,

Making a vow to always help one another overcome life's hurdles and fears with grace.

We were kids at the time and didn't know that a promise so simple would keep us together this long.

We focused on enjoying the simple things together.

People today don't have to get married and it's not for everyone,

It doesn't have to be.

But if you're going to go for it,

Then have a common goal together.

Ike reveals that they still rise with the sun on the longest of summer days and swim together,

As they have done for over sixty years.

Ike rises and kisses Martha on the forehead.

Laura looks at you and smiles,

Proud of her parents for who they are and all they have given to her.

The grandkids call for everyone to join them at the fire pit that overlooks the lake.

In summer,

The perimeter of the lake is often dappled with marmalade flames of campfires at each property,

But on this quiet autumn night,

You are the only ones to be seen.

Together the four of you travel down the path to the fire pit and settle into canvas chairs.

The kids roast marshmallows they proudly deliver to the adults,

Perfecting the burn to everyone's preferences.

The moon rises high above the lake and casts the dark blue water in an opal luster.

As the night wanes on,

You grow quiet and consider the concept of love.

How in this life you may find people who become your chosen family and make you feel more welcome in their company than you have ever felt before.

You never know when someone new will walk into your life and create such a magnificent connection that you cannot imagine a time before it.

Martha and Ike and their family make you feel this way.

They love you as you come.

They celebrate you as you are.

And they offer the encouragement to become whoever you wish to be.

They do that for every soul that has walked into their general store.

Tiredness creeps in as you watch the flames dwindle into embers.

It's time to go home and you say good night,

Hugging everyone at the gathering.

Every embrace is different.

A transfer of energy.

You come to Martha and Ike last and they remind you that you are always welcome in their home.

You ride your bike back to the chalet beneath the blue-black shadows of the trees before you emerge into the silver moonlight.

The temperature has dropped significantly and you look forward to the warmth of your chalet and cuddling with your beloved pet.

You inhale deeply through your nose and the lakeside air is warmed before it hits your lungs.

Everything about this moment feels clean,

Pure,

And enhanced by the magic of the autumn equinox.

You enter your chalet through the French doors from the back deck and are greeted by your pet.

You let them race down the stairs and across the lawn.

You look out at the lake to see the fading orange embers of the fire that are as small as glitter at Martha and Ike's.

You send them a loving thought and gratitude before your pet returns to you and you go inside the lofty chalet for a night of deep sleep.

Soon nestled in your bed with your pet,

You're comforted by the smells of the wood,

Sweet books,

And the smell you associate with home.

Your mind drifts with the grace of a dragonfly gliding across the still lake.

Your heart is warm,

Your breathing is relaxed,

And your mind is open to all the possibilities for connection and joy in this life.

The mood is set for a night of sweet,

Comforting dreams.

And you have earned and you deserve each and every one.

As you let go and surrender to sleep,

Finding peace,

Finding bliss,

Finding sleep,

It's time to dream away.

Good night.