The Great Pumpkin Sail In Sugar Hollow | Cozy Bedtime Story

Cast your dreams in tonight's enchanting bedtime story for grown-ups.

You are listening to The Great Pumpkin Sale,

A guided sleep story set in the mystical Vermont village of Sugar Hollow.

As autumn unfolds,

The townspeople convene at a gazebo overlooking Lake Surrender,

Where they engage in the delightful tradition of carving pumpkins to place their cherished dreams on slips of paper left in the velvety hollows.

At sunset,

The completed jack-o'-lanterns are arranged to create a flotilla on the lake,

Bathing the water in a mesmerizing orange glow.

These vessels of wishes and dreams gracefully sail across the water until the moon rises.

Night ushers in a sense of hope in the cozy allure of autumn.

So find a place to cuddle up and prepare for a night of enchanting surprises.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle,

Your companion on this imaginative journey that will help bring you to a place of serenity and deep relaxation.

Think of me as an old friend,

A patient and gentle ally who understands how hard it can sometimes be to prioritize sleep and self-care.

You deserve every moment of peace and repose at the end of the day.

As you explore this sanctuary,

In the sanctuary of your room and mind,

Every moment is dedicated to you and your comfort.

Take a second to congratulate yourself for showing up and doing the best you can to unwind.

You are but one breath and visual away from a completely transformative experience.

Release my voice at any point if sleep arrives.

Embellish and change this practice to your liking.

Letting your inner voice guide you.

I will create a framework that you may follow completely or use as a diving board to plunge into the sea of your unlimited creativity.

Adjust,

Shift,

Wiggle and do what it takes to get yourself as comfortable as this moment will allow and then become still.

Feel the weight of your eyelids shutting out the world as you go deep within.

Feel the heaviness of your body surrendering into the comforts of your bed.

Your breath is your vehicle,

So let out the biggest,

Most relaxed sigh you can muster.

Visualize the change this breath brings as your room transforms,

Carrying the crispness of lakeside air in autumn.

As you inhale slowly,

You can feel the crisp breeze brush your face.

The rustling leaves and lapping lake perfume the air with their delicate scents,

Enhancing a sense of serenity with their subtle sounds.

Let out a sigh.

The sound of this exhalation joins the autumn winds,

Empowering you with a connection to nature and the coziness of the season.

Engage twice more,

Inhaling slower each time and expanding more,

And then letting out your breath with an audible sigh.

Feel free to yawn throughout this series.

Go at your own pace,

Feeling as the message to stand down travels with oxygen molecules that are delivered throughout your body.

Every exhalation aligns you with your attention to let go a little bit more as you surrender into the relief of the moment.

Celebrate all that is right,

Right now,

To offer you this safe,

Nurturing time just for you.

Return your breath to its natural rhythm,

Trusting it will ebb and flow like soft ripples on a lake without your conscious effort.

Visualize the wings of your imagination preparing to soar in the state of relaxation with a sense of freedom.

It's time for the story to begin.

The day could not be more perfect for an autumn festival in Sugar Hollow.

A historic Vermont town,

Often shrouded in an aura of golden light,

Mysteriously seen from above,

Even in the darkness of night.

The energy of something magical is always in the air,

A palpable connection to the past and future,

As if they all come together in the present moment.

While every month in the sprawling town,

Known for its covered scarlet bridges,

Apple orchards,

Vermont cheddar,

And maple syrup,

Offers a postcard-worthy view.

The harvest season is most magical.

The gold,

Flaming orange,

And magenta-speckled mountains hug around the town on this pristine day.

You take in the intoxicating splendor of autumn's scents and the joyous festivities,

And while the children of the town are bubbling with excitement,

So very proud of their contributions to the festival,

The overall energy of the gathering reflects the serenity of Lake Surrender.

Autumn brings the gradual season of winding down,

Inviting self-reflection on cozy nights,

And this otherworldly golden glow that cloaks the town is somehow even warmer and more saturated in the middle of fall than any other time.

A grand gazebo sits in the heart of the lakeside park,

Transformed into a heartwarming craft hut.

It's a haven for creativity,

Where townspeople carve pumpkins with intricate designs,

Fashion scarecrows with mischievous grins,

And weave seasonal wreaths adorned with vibrant foliage.

The path to the gazebo is lined with bales of hay,

Used as perches by people dressed in soft-knit sweaters and plaid flannel,

Indulging in hot cider and autumnal teas that leave the air with sweet and spicy notes of baked apple,

Cinnamon,

Nutmeg,

And clove.

They smile and nod as you approach.

Some raise their steaming cups of autumn delights with a casual friendly toast to welcome you.

You feel a deep sense of belonging and welcomeness,

Fully supported to join in the fun and be your authentic self.

You encounter dozens of crates,

Overflowing with pumpkins and gourds of all sizes,

Parked just in front of the gazebo.

You are invited to pick a pumpkin to carve,

By a local elementary school teacher who grew up on a nearby farm.

Local artists,

As well as the high school art teacher,

From whom many of them first learned how to draw and paint well,

Volunteer in the craft hut,

Where people carve pumpkins and make seasonal crafts.

You run your hand across the waxy exterior of the pumpkins,

Some still lightly dusted with the earth,

Feeling for just the right one.

You take your time,

Enjoying this moment to admire some of the ivory gourds shaped like bells and tiny sugar pumpkins that fit in the palm of your hand.

A green and ivory gourd covered with warts arouses your curiosity,

And you run your fingers across it,

Amused by the tactile sensation.

You are taken by the uniqueness of nature present in this autumn display.

As the late afternoon sun descends toward the lake,

You become aware of the fading light,

And feel an internal tug that urges you to select your pumpkin,

To have enough time to craft its design.

In the heart of a pile of plump pumpkins,

You select one that stands out to you.

The stem circles toward its round orange belly like a pig's tail,

Adding just enough whimsy for inspiration.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you walk around the gazebo to find an open area,

Their sweet earthy aromas activated by each step.

Nature carries across the lake,

A breathtaking mirror for the surrounding fall foliage and brilliant golden sunlight.

You ascend the stairs to the craft hut,

Where people of all ages are completely immersed in their artwork.

The atmosphere hums with the laughter of children and the focused energy of adults.

Each crafting their pieces as a bluegrass band plays uplifting songs from a smaller gazebo nearer to the lake.

A little boy and his older brother shimmy their pumpkins down the table,

Politely making space for you to join them.

You thank them and take a moment to study the pumpkin against the backdrop of the golden lake.

This creative moment is enhanced by the smells and sights around you.

The piles of pumpkin guts spill out over old newspapers to create a unique smell of wet paper and fresh pumpkin.

The earthiness of straw and the spicy,

Sweet scent of cinnamon-infused wreaths are carried on the breeze.

Each table in the craft hut offers a sensory feast and a storybook experience.

Cones of dried corn,

Acorns,

And colorful leaves are arranged in wooden boxes,

And those who have completed their jack-o-lanterns use the time to create seasonal wall decor.

In the distance,

The first floats are being assembled,

Tethered to one another by rope,

With a forest green rowboat at the helm.

Frayed twine winds its way around the edge of the roof's gazebo,

Serving as a wellspring of inspiration.

Sheets of paper displaying pumpkin designs are linked to the twine by clothespins.

As you stand before your pumpkin,

A vessel to transport your dreams into the sunset,

Memories from the year unfold,

Opening you to all the things you have overcome,

And even more importantly,

All the pleasant things you would like to experience.

Gathering tools from a ceramic jar before you,

You carve into the pumpkin,

Feeling the strength in your hands and arms as you guide it.

You carve through the ridges and valleys of its thick,

Waxy skin,

Completely in tune with the present moment.

A form of therapeutic art,

You get lost in the tactile sensation of scooping out the seeds and pulp,

Messy,

Yet at the same time soothing.

The brothers,

Eager to help you,

Clean up the pumpkin's innards enthusiastically,

Looking forward to every chance they can get to play in the orange strings and pumpkin innards.

With a damp paper towel,

You clean off the surface of the pumpkin and begin to carve.

Your pumpkin,

Like all those at the festival,

Becomes a form of storytelling,

Reflecting a part of you that needs to be expressed.

The ear-pleasing sounds of a washboard and dulcet tones of a mandolin bring a pep to your artistry.

As you finish the final details on the pumpkin,

The descending sun aligns perfectly to shower your finished design in fiery light.

Its eyes gleam with resilience,

And its unique grinning mouth echoes the strength found in laughter.

Lost in the meditative art,

Without much effort,

The pumpkin transformed into a totem for all that you love and hope to harvest in life.

Joy,

Bliss,

And a resilient spirit.

The art teacher,

Dressed in an ethereal black maxi dress,

Makes her rounds,

Checking in with each artist,

Encouraging everyone with kind words and suggestions.

The hem of her dress shuffles across the wooden planks of the gazebo.

As she doles out pieces of parchment paper and calligraphy pens,

Her message is to be written and placed in the hollowed pumpkins.

She offers these items to you.

Her sparkling,

Kind eyes match the congratulatory tone of her voice as she compliments you on your work.

You thank her,

And consider what dream you wish to set sail on the lake tonight.

You thoughtfully remove the pen cap and place the paper slip on a clean part of the table,

Pausing a moment and inhaling the magic of an autumn afternoon.

This breath supports you as you inscribe your deepest wish on the slip of paper,

Then fold it three times over and place it in the velvety bottom of the jack-o-lantern.

You grab your pumpkin and follow the line of fellow creators who clutch their pumpkins to their chests as they walk to the lake's edge.

One by one,

Everyone takes their turn placing a tea light candle inside and then balancing their pumpkin on a square float.

They then light the tea light candle within.

A few kind volunteers stand in the lake water,

Outfitted in thigh-high rubber boots,

Aiding the formation of the flotilla that snakes around the shallow water.

One by one,

Candles are lit,

Replacing the fading golden light of the setting sun.

When it's your turn,

You help balance the pumpkin on the mini raft linked to dozens of other rafts before it.

The volunteer hands you a long lighter to ignite the tea light's wick,

Sparking the flame of your intentions with a simple click.

You step back onto the grassy lawn,

Where autumn leaves scatter the damp earth,

Falling slowly around you like snow flurries.

A group of middle schoolers make the rounds,

With cardboard trays of apple cider,

Offering one that you delightfully accept.

The cup warms your hands,

Its fragrant steam mingling with the crisp air.

The taste perfectly blends the flavors of apples,

Cinnamon,

And a hint of caramel to become a liquid embodiment of autumn in Vermont.

As the mountains conceal,

But the last rays of light,

In perfect synchronicity,

The pumpkin flotilla is complete,

Gradually winding its way in a parade along the shore.

The warm light from the glowing pumpkins reflects on the silky ripples as the townspeople gather near the water's edge.

The winding pattern straightens,

As the luminescent procession continues.

The flotilla is stretched its longest,

And the rowboat guides the pumpkins to the center of the lake,

Where the candles will continue to flicker,

And the pumpkins will continue to drift until the moon rises.

Amidst the ambient sound of hushed conversations,

The chitchat of young children,

The call of a loon,

And the rising symphony of nocturnal beings,

Your eyes softly focus on the flickering orange light and the trail of magic left on the lake's surface.

The sky darkens in soothing navy and marine blues.

The lake follows suit,

Creating an enhanced,

Reflective blue canvas to showcase the cozy glow of the pumpkin lanterns.

Children keep their gaze upward,

Hoping to be the first to spot the moon as it takes over the sun's duty in the sky.

The first stars appear,

And the fickle breeze delivers warm waves of air off the lake that weave with the crisp mountain air.

The pumpkin lanterns bob on the gentle waves in a whimsical gallery that captures the spirit of Sugar Hollow and its unique souls.

Every pumpkin conjures a different sentiment or mood.

One catches your eye,

The elegant profile of a woman,

Her eyes peering out through a window carved on the plump face of the pumpkin.

It's carved in a way that her dreamy expression seems to look beyond the lake,

As if she's longing for something beyond the horizon.

Other pumpkins showcase portraits of townspeople,

Carved with the assistance of local artists in the craft hut.

Two pumpkins depict dogs in the crowd,

As the pups watch from the lakeshore.

Their human companions keep their eyes on the playful dogs,

Who would love to sneak away for a night swim.

Some of the designs are simple and to the point.

They showcase traditional cuts with triangular eyes and square teeth,

And embellishments like stars,

A crescent moon,

And even a palm tree.

All is quiet on the shore before the lapping water and anticipatory breaths.

As the time for the moon to rise approaches,

The younger brother,

Who politely made space for you earlier,

Is the first to see the faint trace and glow of the moon.

Others soon notice,

And celebration ensues beneath the glow of golden lights strung around the smaller gazebo.

The band begins the first chords of Harvest Moon,

And the captivating,

Gravelly vocals of a long-time Sugar Hollow resident reverberate across the lake.

And beneath the moon,

Some couples spontaneously begin to dance,

As children form circles holding hands,

Slowly skipping to the subdued beat,

As if in suspended animation.

You focus on the lyrics.

Just like children sleeping,

We could dream this night away.

Laughter,

Music,

And the aroma of hot apple cider mingle in the crisp autumn air.

With an atmosphere charged with hope,

In the dreams revealed on the lake,

The pumpkin flotilla sails on one final journey around the perimeter of the lake,

Guided by the rowboat and the rower who guides it with steady strokes.

The moon rises in the celestial expanse,

Casting the lake in a silvery glow,

And adding an otherworldly,

Shimmering light to the warm glow of the pumpkin procession.

As the music weaves its spell,

The pumpkins arrive near land,

And one by one,

Their owners reunite with their pumpkins,

And blow out the candles,

Their wishes at the forefront of their minds,

Warming their hearts.

The moon casts its pearly blessing onto the night,

As the festival winds down,

And happy souls return to their homes with their handcrafted wreaths and carved pumpkins.

You gather your pumpkin,

Inhaling the sweet burnt sugar aroma of its flame-kissed top,

And blow out the candle.

The smell of wax fills the air.

On a skinny,

Swirling trail of smoke,

There is a calm that takes over,

Making every part of your being radiate a sense of safety and contentment.

The collective crunch of leaves from the tiny,

Tired feet of children and the shuffle of adults join the soft murmurs of a village winding down.

An instrumental refrain of Harvest Moon continues on a soothing loop,

With room for gentle improvisation by the fiddle player and mandolin.

The soothing backdrop of sound captures the winding down of another successful festival and pumpkin flotilla.

You walk down a quiet street,

Avoiding the rush of the crowds on Main Street,

Historic homes draped in golden and purple holiday lights,

And adorned with gourds,

Pumpkins,

And autumn wreaths.

Capture the spirit of the season as you pass each dwelling,

Listening and watching as villagers tuck into their cozy homes.

A loving sense of community guides you.

Center stage in the sky,

The moon casts a gentle glow on the cobbled path that leads to your home away from home.

The bungalow is tucked at the end of Haven Lane,

Among other smaller homes known for their charm.

Long ago,

A family of five sisters built the cottages to live close to one another,

While also having a sense of independence.

Each cottage is painted in hues of periwinkle,

Ruby,

Sapphire,

Amethyst,

And turquoise,

With these rich colors interchangeably appearing on the facades and in the delicate details of the curvy trim and old shutters.

The cottages are simple,

With a separate bedroom and living room featuring a wood stove in the center of the space.

They form a vibrant,

Cozy display at the end of the round cul-de-sac.

Each bungalow has a porch leading to the front door,

In varying patterns and designs of aforementioned jewel tones.

You carefully place your jack-o-lantern on the porch railing,

Facing it out toward the street like a sentinel.

You open the door into the cottage,

Taken in by the smells of dried eucalyptus and cinnamon.

The furniture within is an eclectic array of antique store finds,

Showcasing vibrant patterns and patchwork designs made of silk,

Velvet,

And linen.

In a way,

The quaint space evokes a sense of what it would be like to settle into an antique jewelry box.

The windows are cracked ever so slightly to allow for the cool night air to circulate the comfortable space.

A cathedral-style door leads you into the whimsical bedroom,

Designed by the youngest of the sisters.

The centerpiece of the room is the bed,

A delightful creation that seems to have sprung from the pages of a fairy tale.

The bedposts contain intricate carvings,

Resembling woodland creatures and vines,

That are painted in deep rainbow hues,

With slight flourishes of gold paint.

You prepare yourself for bed,

Dreamily going from one moment to the next.

Once ready,

You return to the bed and pull back the heavy,

Plush duvet.

The cover is cool and smooth to the touch,

While the duvet has a comforting heaviness to it.

You climb into the bed and settle,

As moonlight filters through the old windows that framed the night,

Looking out on the quiet street.

Beyond the periwinkle sashes,

Grids,

And trim,

Moonlight filters into the room,

And over a century ago,

The sisters would gather by their windows.

To wish one another good night,

You tuck yourself in,

Feeling an enhanced sense of safety from the low ceilings that feature exposed beams.

These rustic details make you feel as if you are tucked within a tree hollow in the forests of Vermont.

The ivory wood-paneled walls add an updated cottagecore vibe,

A timeless freshness to the storied home.

As you settle into the whimsical bed,

Beneath the heavy,

Plush duvet,

The low ceilings and exposed beams create a sacred haven where your guard lowers with ease,

And you drift gracefully near the boundaries of sleep.

As you slip away from consciousness,

The day's festivities play out in tiny vignettes and calming flashes.

The floating dreams on Lake Surrender,

The gallery of pumpkins,

And the camaraderie of Sugar Hollow permeate your being with a sense of belonging and bliss.

As you drift into slumber,

The memories of the village's enchanting festival lap against the shores of your consciousness,

Connecting you once more with your deepest wishes.

These wishes carry you to a night of deep,

Healing,

Timeless slumber.

Finding peace,

Finding bliss,

Finding surrender,

Finding sleep,

It's time to dream awake.