Farmhouse In The Cotswolds | Sleep Story With Rain Sounds

Fall fast asleep with this sleep story for grown-ups.

You are listening to Farmhouse in the Cotswolds.

The meadows roll like emerald waves,

And flowers are in full bloom as you arrive in the Cotswolds for a holiday stay at a centuries-old farmhouse.

You spend the day exploring the farm and observing baby farm animals revel in the pastoral heaven.

You ride a bicycle into the charming village before a storm arrives.

Come nightfall,

You return to your cozy room at the farmhouse and fall asleep by the fire to the sounds of soft rain.

It's time to dream away.

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

I am Michelle.

As you listen,

Think of me as your sidekick for relaxation and the encouraging friend who advocates for your best interests.

As your day ends,

You may reclaim this time for peace and pleasantries.

Set the tone for the night to come as you settle into the comforts of your bed.

Make it a challenge to see if you may become as relaxed as you have ever been.

Every breath and new visual will help you in this process of coming down from the day.

Take stock of where your emotional and physical state are right now.

And if you were to imagine a control center in your mind,

Dial down your thoughts and concerns.

Adapt each moment of this experience in a way that best suits your preferences.

Feel free to fall asleep at any point.

Navigate this practice however you please,

Being gentle as you go easy on yourself.

Stretch out and then settle into the comforts of your bed.

Open your mouth and yawn and feel the waves of surrender that come along with this breath.

As you sigh,

Then slowly inhale through your nose.

Visualize each oxygen molecule traveling through every part of your body with a message that it is time to go on a holiday.

Yawn again and sigh.

Continue this pattern of breathing twice more at your preferred pace.

Let every intake of air expand your body a bit more than the last one.

Let every yawn bring you deeper into a state of relaxation,

Floating on the surface of sleep.

Let every sigh cause your mind and body to take a shallow dip into sleep.

The space in between consciousness and sleep is where your imagination becomes dreamy and soothing as you inhale,

Yawn,

And sigh.

Enjoy the delicate bridge between worlds.

As your brainwaves slow down,

Return your breath to normal.

When you are ready,

Notice how much more relaxed you feel now than when you first settled into your bed.

And with each word to come,

You will find yourself getting even more comfortable and serene.

It's time for the story to begin.

The persistent rain of spring is to thank for the rolling emerald hills of the Cotswolds,

Where you drive down a winding road that weaves around iconic stone farmhouses and churches.

The light of golden hour enhances the beauty of the mustard-yellow limestone facades that reflect the honeyed light.

Cottages in the Cotswolds are known for their simplicity in design,

Showcasing a notable chimney and steep,

Gabled roofs that point to the sunset sky.

These stone cottages first appeared in the English countryside during the 16th and 17th centuries.

Many of the original dwellings remain in the villages and dabble the bucolic countryside.

The earliest of these storybook cottages were first built by rural laborers and sheep farmers who constructed the dwellings.

One stone at a time.

The name Cotswolds has often been thought to mean sheep enclosure in rolling hills.

With the car windows open to welcome the balmy breeze,

A smell of fertile land and fresh grass hit your nose.

The region is so quiet that every now and then you hear sheep bleating in the distance.

You drive over an old stone bridge that crosses the Thames,

The famous river that flows over 215 miles through England,

Making its way to London.

It's hard to imagine the bustling West End shares the serene,

Glassy river,

But then again,

Everything is connected in some way.

If you're willing to dig deep enough,

You drive slowly over the bridge,

Watching as a couple of swans lead their four fluffy grey cygnets across the waterway,

The golden sun reflects on the river,

Backlighting the magnificent birds and their fuzzy babies as they gracefully glide atop the glittering golden water.

The beauty of this moment causes a catch in your breath.

Everything sparkles around you and it causes a sparkling sensation to rise up in your chest,

Warming your heart.

You continue on your journey and come to a fork in the road where you turn right on a narrow lane.

A weathered white wooden sign reads,

Utopia Fields,

With a playful pun as the U in Utopia is replaced with E-W-E.

As you continue up a gravel driveway to a charming farmhouse,

The vantage point reveals dozens of sheep grazing in the fields.

In the soft blue glow of twilight,

You are struck by the beauty of the architecture.

Ivy creeps up the limestone walls,

Dripping around light blue shutters.

A garden rife with bright flowers,

Berries,

And vegetables is just beyond the home.

Soft amber light illuminates the many windows of the centuries-old house.

And though far from home,

The storybook allure offers a sense of calming familiarity.

You park the car and gather your travel bag and step out into the cool air of dusk.

You take in a deep breath and sigh,

Peering out over the tranquil vista,

Full of delight that in the morning,

You will have an entire day to explore the Cotswolds.

The owner opens the door to the farmhouse,

And a lively border collie runs to greet you.

You run your fingers through his thick fur.

As the owner tells you not to mind Henry,

The kind man comes down the stone steps to help with your bag and welcomes you to Utopia Fields.

Introducing himself as Malcolm,

He explains that his wife Felicia,

An eldest daughter and younger son,

Are tending to the animals.

He guides you through the entryway and up a set of wooden stairs to your room as Henry follows behind,

His tail dusting the stairs for the entire ascent.

The room is cozy and inviting,

With a comfortable bed and plush armchair by windows that look out over the picturesque fields beyond the house.

Warm colors accent the room,

Lit by an orange antique glass hurricane lamp set on an oak side table.

There is a fireplace in the room,

Which Malcolm says may come in handy tomorrow night when the forecast predicts rain.

The floor-to-ceiling bookshelf contains classics and collections of English poetry,

Framed photos of various farm animals,

Sleeping in cozy bales of hay,

And curled up in the barn,

Decorate the walls.

Malcolm mentions that you're the only guest tonight,

But another couple will be checking in tomorrow.

He gathers Henry to leave.

He says to let him or his wife know if you need anything,

And then wishes you goodnight,

Closing the door behind him.

You wash up and prepare for bed,

Changing into the most comfortable flannel pajamas you own.

You perch yourself in the armchair with a journal,

Inspired to write,

As you peer out onto the moonlit hills and navy blue sky twinkling with stars.

You imagine the shepherds leading their flocks throughout the countryside,

And feel so grateful for the comforts of the farmhouse as you settle for the night and fall asleep.

The next morning you awaken to light pouring through the ivory-laced curtains and the melodious sounds of birds chirping outside the windows.

You rise and stretch,

And open the window a crack to take in the sweet aroma of morning.

Dewdrops glisten on the hills below,

And you spot Henry and Malcolm leading the sheep and goats to a distant field.

His daughter and son are in an adjacent field,

Feeding the chickens.

You dress comfortably for a day of exploring the farm and beyond.

You make your way downstairs to the kitchen,

Where you meet Felicia for the first time.

She has prepared a hearty breakfast from farm-fresh items.

You sit down at the antique wooden dining room table,

Warmed with gratitude for her hospitality.

Felicia invites you to explore the farm,

As many new furry additions were born in the spring.

She returns to the kitchen to tidy up,

Leaving you to enjoy the warmth from the sunlight pouring in through the windows and the clotted cream and scones she prepared.

You recognize a welcome change in your body.

Your chest feels light.

Your muscles feel strong,

Yet relaxed and soft at the same time.

Every part of your body feels vibrant and healthy,

Free of any aches or tension.

After breakfast,

You take a walk around the grounds.

You feel your feet hover above the grass,

Moving along with the tepid breeze.

You become more aware of sensations in general.

The distant baa's of sheep,

The clucking of chickens,

The rustle of the tall grass and wildflowers,

And the occasional excited bark of Henry create an idyllic soundtrack.

A curious tortoiseshell cat follows you,

Tucking in the shadows of the fence until she senses you are someone to trust.

She catches up to you and rubs her warm purring body against your shins.

You bend down to pet her and say hello.

Even though you've traveled to the Cotswolds on a solo journey,

There's not a moment that you have felt alone.

The air is cool and crisp,

Yet as the sun rises higher in the sky,

The morning dew evaporates as warm light cloaks the farm.

You come across a flock of lambs,

Playing on a knoll,

Jumping and frolicking in the sunshine.

The cat playfully darts towards them,

And though they are more than double her size,

They startle and clear the way like a parting of the tides.

You can't help but laugh at the cat's prowess.

You can't help but wonder what it must be like to experience the newness of everything as the lambs do.

Without much thought,

The cat becomes your guide,

And you follow her to a mulch path that weaves along a fenced-in meadow where chestnut horses graze with their foals.

The young ponies are covered in fuzzy fur that will turn into sleek coats.

By summer's end,

A skylark flies overhead,

Distracting the cat with its whistling song that echoes over the meadows.

The cat leads you to a pond brimming with lily pads and turtles sunning on rocks.

The cat discovers shade beneath a willow tree and rolls in the grass.

You sit next to her,

Feeling the cool,

Soft earth beneath you,

Grounding you in this peaceful scene.

A brood of yellow ducklings waddle to the sun-drenched side of the pond and topple into the water.

So young,

They've yet to learn how to gracefully enter.

Their clumsiness makes you smile.

You try to recall what it was like to be so carefree when learning something new and making mistakes.

It seems to have gotten harder with time,

As the expectations for doing things right came with age.

You vow to be more understanding and open to learning new things,

Knowing that life is a sequence of opportunities to grow and build upon.

It never stops.

It's never supposed to.

You lose time in the hypnotic reflections of the cotton-puff clouds on the rippling pond and the squiggly turns of the ducklings as they glide across the water and around the lily pads.

The cat falls asleep in the grass and extends her paw,

Placing it on your hand.

You feel a connection,

One that humbles you and makes you honored to be trusted by this animal that you just met.

Looking out on the pastures,

You harbor a deep sense of being exactly where you are meant to be.

For all the moments of strife you've endured in life,

Days like these make it worthwhile when you think there is so little you would change.

If it meant missing out on the splendor.

As late morning becomes early afternoon,

You stand and return to the farmhouse.

The cat takes off to explore.

You run into Malcolm,

Who mentions a storm is coming in the evening,

But you are welcome to borrow the bike and ride into town before it arrives.

The winding roads feel different experienced on a bicycle,

As your muscles propel you up the inclines and you revel in the feeling of flying downhill.

With a crystal blue sky overhead,

You feel a sense of freedom not felt when driving to the farmhouse last night.

The invigorating air against your skin,

Tandem with the golden sunlight,

Makes every part of you feel alive.

You arrive in the village and wander through the quaint streets and shops.

You feel so welcomed by the hospitable energy of the long-time occupants and the visitors who long for historic charm as much as you.

Ivy tendrils grow up the stone walls of a gift shop with a thatched roof and as you run your fingers through the vines,

You feel taken back to an earlier time.

The deep amber stones retain the fossils of sea urchins and coral,

Telling the stories of all that has weathered them through time.

They convey a sense of endurance and fortitude.

Flower boxes overflow with lavender,

Fuchsia,

And yellow-orange flowers,

Colorful reminders of the glorious season.

You step into the shop and take in the smells of soaps and candles made with Cotswolds lavender.

You peruse a wall of oil paintings capturing sun-drenched cottages,

Rich green meadows,

And a waterfall.

Somehow,

The local artists have captured the extent of the Cotswolds beauty you have experienced on this journey,

But in slightly different ways.

The paintings make the countryside seem otherworldly,

And yet you know how real this land of treasures is,

For you have seen it with your own eyes.

And given the chance to paint this pastoral paradise,

You wonder what colors and elements you would emphasize.

You pop into a cafe for lunch and seat yourself on a cushioned bench near a bow window overlooking the main thoroughfare.

You watch a constant stream of people who have come from around the world,

Reveling in the heavenly weather and village,

And wonder how a storm could possibly upset this day.

You slowly sip on your tea,

Savoring each note of bergamot and orange and the tannins of the perfectly brewed beverage.

And even while the sky remains clear,

But for a few passing clouds,

You heed the recommendation from Malcolm and start your way back to Utopia Fields.

You take a different route that winds around the back of the farm.

You discover a small waterfall that flows beneath a stone bridge.

Soft mist rises around the lichen-covered stones,

Dreamy and mystical.

You stop on the other side of the bridge to watch the water cascade into a stream.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath,

Allowing yourself to get lost in the songs of birds and the rhythmic whoosh of the waterfall.

You wish to capture and hold on to every pleasant experience on this holiday,

To return to whenever you long to remember the world can be a kind and beautiful place.

When you open your eyes,

You see that your cat friend has returned.

In the distance,

The first purple-gray storm clouds to appear hover over the village you just left.

You hop on the bicycle to ride it back to the farmhouse,

And the cat dashes through the fields to beat you.

You come upon the driveway.

Moments later,

The sun has vanished behind the incoming clouds.

The steel-gray underbellies are ominous,

And you look forward to hunkering down in the cozy farmhouse.

As you come to the front of the farmhouse,

You find the cat sitting on the front stoop,

Carefully licking her paws.

A sharp wind rolls over the meadows,

Moving the tall grass and wildflowers in rippling waves.

You enter the farmhouse,

And the cat follows behind you.

You shut the door just as the first fat drops of rain begin to splatter on the earth.

You see Felicia and a young couple that just checked in.

Felicia explains that she started a fire in your room as the old stone dwelling becomes quite cool during storms like this.

She jokes that you seem to have made good friends with Libby,

And to let her know if she's being a bother,

You notice the family dog Henry is already conked out by a blazing fire in the main room.

Feeling quite tired,

You ascend the steps to your room.

It's a bit early for bedtime,

But you find yourself longing for sleep hours before you normally would.

It must be the clean country air and the fact that your guard is down and you are able to make up for all the sleep you sometimes skip out on.

Libby races you up the stairs,

Intuitively aware of what room is yours.

You let her enter your room,

And she makes herself comfortable,

Curled up on a rug by the fire.

A howling wind rustles through the trees outside,

And you are overwhelmed with gratitude for the warm dry air emanating from the crackling flames in the stone fireplace.

The smell of wet stone marries the sweet,

Peppery aroma of burning wood.

Outside,

You see Malcolm and his two children running in from the rain.

You take a deep breath and let out a contented sigh.

You relish the contrast of morning and night and recognize the simple pleasures during the storm fill you with as much contentment and peace as the bright sunny morning on the farm.

The room feels like a warm embrace,

Even more familiar and homey than your first night here.

You kick off your shoes and change into your pajamas.

The sky becomes a steely dark blue,

Casting the emerald hills in a charcoal hue.

You pull back the heavy quill and curl up in bed,

Soothed by the crackling fire and the soft rain.

Darkness envelops Utopia Fields.

Sleep begins to tug at you,

Beckoning you away from this beloved retreat in the Cotswolds.

The patter of the rain brings you back to the room,

And Libby hops onto the bed and snuggles in a nook between your feet,

Gently vibrating the bed with her soft purrs.

As you drift off to sleep,

You think about the beauty of the Cotswolds,

With its rolling hills and picturesque countryside.

You feel the energy of the souls who have loved this land throughout time,

Carving out a storybook setting ideal for dreaming and sleep.

You feel yourself floating,

Carried on the luscious sound waves of tender rain and the crackling fire,

Feeling safe,

Comforted,

And so very tired,

You continue to surrender.

Finding peace,

Finding enchantment,

Finding bliss,

Finding sleep,

It's time to dream away.