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Good evening, it's Elizabeth here, the host of The Sleepy Bookshelf.
Another sleep-inducing podcast from the Slumber Studios Network.
I'm dropping by here just to let you know that I'm starting a brand new season on the Sleepy Bookshelf right now.
This autumn I'll be reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, a gothic romance set on the wild and mysterious Yorkshire Moors.
If you're interested, I'd love to have you join me.
Just search The Sleepy Bookshelf in your favourite podcast player and go to the most recent episodes to find this new season.
I hope to see you there. to put down your worries from the day and pick up a good book.
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Welcome to Get Sleepy. where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy.
Thank you so much for tuning in.
We truly appreciate that you're here.
Trusting in us to bring calm and reassurance to your bedtime routine and help you get a good night's rest.
It's so special to have the opportunity to speak to you each and every time you listen, and I hope that you always feel entirely welcome and cared for whenever you tune in to Get Sleepy.
In tonight's story, which was beautifully written by Lottie, we'll follow a tiny field mouse as she goes about her day.
Now that it's autumn, she needs to prepare for the coming season.
I have the pleasure of narrating this one for you, and I really hope you enjoy it.
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Before we begin, let's take a moment to relax and unwind.
Start by moving yourself into the most comfortable position.
Then, take time to feel the surface of your bed beneath you.
Feel how it supports your back and whole body and let yourself sink further.
Now, take a deep breath in.
Let it flow into your lungs and fill your body.
Then ease it back out with a gentle sigh.
Place one hand on your belly and the other on your heart.
Notice the warm weight of your hands.
And as you keep breathing in and out, notice the way your body moves.
Feel your belly gently lifting your hand up and down.
Expanding and contracting with each breath.
You might become aware of some thoughts passing through your mind.
If you do, that's okay.
But there's no need to linger on them for any length of time.
You can notice them with a calm, carefree attitude. and then simply let them go.
Remind yourself that the day is over.
Now, it is time to gently ease into rest.
There's nothing you need to do but focus on the sound of my voice as we venture into the world of a sweet little field mouse.
This is where our story begins. begins.
Hidden in a small valley in southwest England is a tiny organic farm called Cuddyford.
A very kind family lives on the farm with their cats and dogs.
All year round, they grow wonderful organic fruits and vegetables and sell them to locals.
In the springtime They sell sugar snap peas and bunches of the wildflowers that spring up around the farm.
In the summer they sell their famous tomatoes that come in deep red, bright orange and even vivid yellow colors.
In winter, they sell plump flowery potatoes and deep green kale.
But the most beautiful time on the farm is in autumn, when the leaves are changing color and the pumpkins and courgettes grow ever so large.
This is Millie's favorite time of year.
Millie is a tiny field mouse who lives in the narrow wheat field near the farm.
She is very small and round.
Her fur is soft, silky, and the color of pale caramel.
She has tiny white paws with light pink pads. and her white whiskers fan out from her pointed face.
Autumn is an important time for Millie.
She needs to prepare her burrow and her body. for the long, deep sleep through winter.
We're going to be joining her on a late autumn morning as she begins her day.
The morning air is very cool.
It has a sharp quality to it, as if it could cut through anything, and there is a slight smell of water or dew.
Even though the first frost has not yet arrived, it is clear that it's imminent.
In Millie's wheat field, the ground is hard.
The remains of the harvest smell sweet and damp at the same time, mingling with the earthy scent of mud and leaves.
The sun is only just peeking over the horizon, and the sky is such a pale shade of blue that it looks like milk.
There is a fine covering of wispy clouds that makes it look foggy and dense.
Underneath the cold ground, tucked up in her burrow, is Millie.
Her fur is puffed up and thick.
She is cleaning her face, meticulously running her paws over her pink tongue and up across her nose.
She cleans the sleep from her eyes and the dust from her ears.
Then she moves on to clean her soft belly and even her long smooth tail.
The burrow is warm and smells like dry earth.
Millie's nest is made of straw that she has patted into place.
Once she's finished cleaning herself, She moves away from her nest and along the tunnel.
About half a foot away, to the side of the tunnel, there is a small chamber.
Is Millie's store of food.
There are shiny ears of wheat, no doubt taken before harvest time.
Pumpkin seeds and pieces of vegetables are there too.
But Millie doesn't stop.
She knows that she needs to get outside.
So she carries on along the tunnel until her whiskers meet the cool outside air flowing in through the burrow entrance.
She stops, her body still and quiet.
Sniffing the air, she listens carefully to make sure it is safe to go outside.
And soon, She decides all is okay.
Millie shimmies out of the burrow, emerging at the side of the wheat field.
Her eyes take in the scenery.
The sun is higher in the sky now, and there is a vague warmth to its weak rays.
The birds have woken up and are singing to each other.
Millie looks up at the sky.
A great flock of starlings are soaring and looping together.
They move in synchrony like a strange undulating wave of tiny black dots.
It won't be long until they begin their epic journey of migrating south for the winter.
Millie sniffs the air again.
She can detect the scent of wood fire in the distance and the tart smell of ripe apples coming from the farm.
Eagerly, she waddles off in that direction.
Her tiny paws scratch and scurry over the cut wheat field.
She heads to the bank of thick grass and clover that lines the field.
Beyond that is the wild meadow that joins with the farm.
Little beads of dew are sprinkled all over the blades of grass, making them look like they've been studded with jewels.
As Millie pushes her way through the dense greenery, The beads of dew burst and land on her fur.
The ground is soft and muddy here.
It squelches a little bit underfoot.
Soon, the bank of grass and clover thins and Milly hops out into the meadow.
In the spring, the meadow is covered in flowers.
But today, it is thick with grass and weeds.
Millie weaves through it all, following the scent of apples.
The meadow merges with the back of the farm, and it is here that two apple trees grow.
They are ancient trees, bent over with age.
Their trunks are gnarled and wizened, twisting and coiling like a cloth that has been wrung dry.
Each branch is crowned with leaves that are small but broad, with a slightly rough texture, hang dozens upon dozens of apples.
They are small and rounded, colored brownish-green with a blush of pink.
Millie looks up at them and sniffs happily, but she is saved to the trouble of climbing for them.
On the ground, dropped into the thick grass below, are several perfectly ripe apples.
Millie selects a particularly rosy one and begins to nibble on it.
The apple smells sweet and floral, a bit like honey.
She eats away at it happily.
She knows that soon the children from the farm will come to collect the fallen apples and pick the ones that are ready but still on the tree.
Perhaps in the afternoon the air will be full of the smell of gently simmering apples and cinnamon as the farmers bake apple pies and pastries.
But for now, the tree is just for Millie.
She sits and enjoys the peaceful moment.
When she's had enough of eating apples, she hops away. to explore the rest of the farm.
After the small orchard, the land opens up onto the vegetable beds.
They are slightly raised from the rest of the ground.
Some are lined with wooden trellises, which help support the plants as they grow.
Milly surveys the beds.
One is full of carrot tops.
And another has growing cabbages and cauliflowers.
But her eyes find the bed she was hoping for.
The pumpkin patch.
Here, there are 40 to 50 beautiful pumpkins.
They are not like the perfectly round orange pumpkins you find in shops.
These ones are special and misshapen.
Some are squat and squashed looking.
Some are plump and almost oblong in shape.
Others are thin at one end and bulbous at the other.
All of them are shaded by huge umbrella-like leaves, which seem furry to the touch.
The stem of each leaf is fleshy and covered in tiny white hairs.
Here and there, small tendrils sprout and curl like miniature springs.
The pumpkins have a fresh mineral scent, similar to spinach and freshly cut flowers.
And the colors are just as varied as their size.
Some are the color of pistachio ice cream, pale green and silvery.
Some have dark green stripes like a watermelon.
Others are the color of a rich, dark egg yolk.
And some can't decide if they are orange or red.
So they have mixed both colours on their skins.
Then there are small pumpkins that are creamy yellow, with orange stripes, and even tiny disc-like ones with frilly edges, which come in startling shades of yellow.
Millie makes her way to the pumpkins and hides herself under their shady leaves.
She sniffs the air and looks for a pumpkin that is easy to get into.
Then she spots one.
It is a creamy green color and already split open.
Its flesh is bright orange. and its seeds are huge, smooth, and pale.
The seeds are exactly what Millie has been looking for.
She nibbles on one as a taste test, inside the tough outer skin.
The kernel is pale and waxy.
It seems to be good, because she then begins to pick the seeds with her paws and put as many of them in her mouth as she can fit.
When her mouth is full.
Millie heads back out of the farm through the clover and into the wheat field.
In no time at all.
She has wriggled into her burrow and placed the pumpkin seeds with the rest of her stash of food.
Soon enough, she is back out of the burrow and onto the farm again.
Millie continues to go back and forth from the burrow to the farm to stockpile pumpkin seeds.
Finally, when the sun is just past its highest point in the sky, She stops by the apple trees to take in the warmth of the sunlight.
The air is still cool, but it's pleasant and mild.
The sky has cleared into a soft shade of dark egg blue.
Millie takes her time to rest in the safety of the apple trees.
In the distance, there is the sound of cows calling to each other, no doubt as they are herded from one field to another by their farmers.
Millie looks around.
She gazes past the pumpkin patch and vegetable beds towards the farmhouse.
Just ahead.
There is a large greenhouse, built simply out of poles and clear plastic.
This is where the tomatoes and cucumbers grow during the summer.
Millie ventures off towards the greenhouse, but it's not tomatoes that she is looking for.
All along the outside of the structure are old, discarded plant pots.
They are made of thick terracotta, cracked and smashed in places.
A few of them are even covered with creeping moss, making it look as if they have been painted green.
Some of these pots collect rainwater, and this is what Millie is looking for.
She finds a shallow pot full of clear, clean water.
Resting her front paws on the edge of the pot, she gently laps at the cool water until she is no longer thirsty.
From this part of the farm, the old oak and beech trees can be seen.
They stand like watchmen over the nearby fields.
Now that it's autumn, The leaves of the trees have turned different colors.
There's a striking mixture of oranges ranging from the vibrant shade of a tangerine to the rich color of rust.
Flourishes of yellow are here and there, as well as smatterings of deep ruby red and even purple.
Soon, the leaves will all fall.
But today, they light up the landscape spectacularly.
There is a large horse chestnut tree behind the greenhouse.
It must have stood there for hundreds of years and it shares its roots with the other side of Millie's wheat field.
At this time of year It grows big round spiky burrs which crack open to reveal their shiny nuts inside.
Millie scampers over to the chestnut tree.
The earth beneath it is always soft and sandy, and she likes the feel of it under her paws.
But the short autumn day is starting to wane.
Millie knows that she must finish her work before returning to her burrow.
She wanders under the canopy of the chestnut tree until she finds what she is looking for.
In a small clump of yellowing grass, there are a few tiny fluffy bird feathers.
They are no bigger than a thumbnail and are pale bluish grey.
They're left over from when birds clean their feathers in the tree above or when they give themselves a sand bath in the soil below.
Millie excitedly picks up the best feathers she can find.
She chooses extra fluffy and soft ones and holds all of them in her tiny mouth.
Once she has taken as many feathers as she can manage, she weaves out from under the horse chestnut and back into her wheat field.
Millie shimmies carefully around the edge of the field, keeping hidden in the cut wheat.
Holding the feathers firmly in her mouth, she makes sure that none are dropped.
The sun is now sinking towards the horizon and the sky takes on a pink and orange tinge as sunset approaches.
The evening chorus of birdsong is starting to sound, but Millie carries on until she reaches the entrance to her burrow.
She crawls all the way down through the tunnel and into her nest, passing the food store as she goes.
The earth is dry and warm here.
She takes the feathers to her nest and carefully places them inside.
Now it is extra soft, extra warm, and extra cozy.
Millie washes her face and paws.
She is tired now, and her little mouse eyes are bleary.
After a long day of preparing for winter, Her limbs feel heavy and sleepy.
Just a few more weeks and Millie will settle down in her nest to hibernate through the cold winter.
But right now she just needs to sleep for tonight.
She settles down in her nest, feeling the feathers against her side.
She wraps her tail around her body and twitches her whiskers.
Then with the smallest sigh, she closes her eyes. and lets herself relax.
Slowly, gently, Millie floats away into a deep and restful Sweet.
Thanks for watching! you Thanks for watching! you Thanks for watching! you Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
