🌸 🤫 Weekend Away in the Secret Garden - Part 3 of 3 - Relaxing Stories for Adults

0:01 Welcome to The Slow Life, a village filled with cozy stories for everyone. I'll read this story 2 times to help you zone out or even fall asleep during the second reading. This story is called Weekend Away in The Secret Garden and it's about two naps in one day. Dessert, of course, and something hidden in the familiar. This is Part 3 of The Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast series, but each story can be enjoyed on its own. I've been staying the weekend at The Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast.

0:53 The gardens themselves are gorgeous and have been endless entertainment between strolls throughout them and sitting in each secluded spot, sometimes with a drink in hand, sometimes with a book, and other moments with my hands empty and open in my lap. Today even included two naps, not long, just enough to nod off a few times. The first one was in my room, but the second was in the shade on a lounge chair in a corner by some overhanging roses.

1:37 When supper time nears on this second and final evening of my stay, I return inside. The dining room, which nowadays offers more than just breakfast, is soft with candlelight and quiet music. A handful of other guests sit at small spaced out tables and the air hums with the clink of silverware and the warmth of comfort food. I have French onion soup to start and pasta set beside roasted vegetables with herbs that I imagine were snipped fresh from the garden. The bread is warm, the butter melting easily over each piece, and I savor each bite.

2:30 There is dessert, of course, a crumble with Peaches, golden and fragrant, paired with coconut ice cream. It's a refreshing combination. I linger over it, not quite ready for the evening to end. I returned to my room only when the sky is deepening into indigo, the stars just beginning to poke through. I take a bath, sinking into the warm water with a sigh. The window above the tub is open a few inches and I can hear the rustle of leaves and faint song of crickets outside. The scent of lavender drifts from the salts and oils provided and I close my eyes, allowing the water to surround me for a while.

3:28 When I step out, I wrap myself in the thick robe hanging on the back of the door. I've left mine at home, just for the novelty of it. It's dark outside now as I curl up in the window seat, legs tucked beneath me, looking down at the garden. Tiny lights have come on throughout the trees and flowers. Fairy lights strung through the Arbor, a shelter formed of climbing vines and their leaves. A soft glow is cast over the beds below. It all looks like a painting full of deep Blues and purples dotted with soft yellows and oranges. I sit here for a while, only rising to flick on the conveniently easy fireplace to add to the coziness in the room. I'm ready for sleep now, and it comes easily. The bed is soft.

4:36 The duvets wait upon me, just heavy enough to tuck me in. My dreams are plump with flowers, which I see through every secret garden doorway I choose to enter. I wake in the morning to silence. No curse, no distant hum of televisions, just the sight of the wind. Sunlight filters through the curtains like at home, just bright enough to stir me gently awake and opening them fully when I'm ready. I dress slowly, still wrapped in the warmth of rest.

5:18 Downstairs, I'm told I can take breakfast in the sunroom or the garden. It's a mild day, the sky wide and fully blue, so I choose the garden. The table waits, set with a white cloth and a small vase of marigolds. I step on a smooth Ruey Boast tea and listened to the bird song, watching the light shift amongst the bushes as the sun climbs higher. Breakfast arrives, house made granola with soy yogurt and berries and a fresh baked scone, still warm.

6:00 Spreading the butter and jam and each spoonful of granola feels like a ritual performed with every bite. I vow in this moment to appreciate my meal times more, whether away on vacation or at home on any so-called regular day. A few other guests passed by, some nodding in greeting, others as lost in their own scene as I am. The garden feels like a shared secret, but one that everyone can be a part of. We all seem to know the rules that are to stroll or sit in quiet reflection and to take deep breaths once we walk through the gate. I returned to my room to gather my things, taking time to do so. I stand at the window one last time, committing the view to memory.

7:03 I fold the robe and leave it on the bed, smooth the quilt that lies at the foot and thank the room for welcoming me in for these few days. Down at the front desk, I'm thanked and wished a beautiful rest of summer, and we schedule my stay for next year on the same weekend. We wave as if it's goodbye until then, even though we'll see each other around the village in the meantime. It's all part of the fun of a weekend away in your own town. As I walk home, Wheeling my small suitcase behind me and only a few blocks away, I realize I feel different.

7:52 Not changed, but renewed. The familiar houses I pass, the sidewalks I've walked 1000 times. They all look slightly altered, as if lit or giving off a vibration from within. I've stayed in my own village, yet I've seen it with new eyes again. Knowing I'll return to The Secret Garden. Bed and Breakfast will remind me to plant more flowers in my own backyard, to slow down when I'm eating each meal, to sip rather than gulp. I also feel incredibly fortunate that I have no need to escape my surroundings.

8:40 But I do it because it's fun sometimes, to step out of the ordinary and find something hidden in the familiar. It's good for the soul to sit in a garden and watch the blooms unfold around you. It's magical to have a secret that feels newly special each time you visit, even if that secret is only a few blocks from home. Weekend away in The Secret Garden. I have been staying the weekend at The Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast. The gardens themselves are gorgeous and have been endless entertainment between strolls throughout them and sitting in each secluded spot, sometimes with a drink in hand, sometimes with a book, and other moments with my hands empty and open in my lap.

9:49 Today even included two naps, not long, just enough to nod off a few times. The first one was in my room, but the second was in the shade on a lounge chair in a corner by some overhanging roses. When supper time nears on this second and final evening of my stay, I return inside. The dining room, which nowadays offers more than just breakfast, is soft with candlelight and quiet music. A handful of other guests sit at small spaced out tables and the air hums with the clink of silverware and the warmth of comfort food. I have French onion soup to start and pasta set beside roasted vegetables with herbs that I imagine were snipped fresh from the garden.

10:53 The bread is warm, the butter melting easily over each piece, and I savor each bite. There is dessert, of course, a crumble with Peaches, golden and fragrant, paired with coconut ice cream. It's a refreshing combination. I linger over it, not quite ready for the evening to end. I returned to my room only when the sky is deepening into indigo, the stars just beginning to poke through. I take a bath, sinking into the warm water with a sigh.

11:36 The window above the tub is open a few inches and I can hear the rustle of leaves and faint song of crickets outside. The scent of lavender drifts from the salts and oils provided and I close my eyes, allowing the water to surround me for a while. When I step out, I wrap myself in the thick robe hanging on the back of the door. I've left mine at home, just for the novelty of it. It's dark outside now as I curl up in the window seat, legs tucked beneath me, looking down at the garden.

12:22 Tiny lights have come on throughout the trees and flowers. Fairy lights strung through the Arbor, a shelter formed of climbing vines and their leaves. A soft glow is cast over the beds below. It all looks like a painting full of deep Blues and purples dotted with soft yellows and oranges. I sit here for a while, only rising to flick on the conveniently easy fireplace to add to the coziness in the room. I'm ready for sleep now, and it comes easily.

13:06 The bed is soft. The duvets wait upon me, just heavy enough to tuck me in. My dreams are plump with flowers, which I see through every secret garden doorway I choose to enter. I wake in the morning to silence. No curse, no distant hum of televisions, just the sight of the wind. Sunlight filters through the curtains like at home, just bright enough to stir me gently awake and opening them fully when I'm ready. I dress slowly, still wrapped in the warmth of rest. Downstairs, I'm told I can take breakfast in the sunroom or the garden.

13:55 It's a mild day, the sky wide and fully blue, so I choose the garden. The table waits, set with a white cloth and a small vase of marigolds. I step on a smooth rooibos tea and listened to the bird song, watching the light shift amongst the bushes as the sun climbs higher. Breakfast arrives, house made granola with soy yogurt and berries and a fresh baked scone, still warm. Spreading the butter and jam and each spoonful of granola feels like a ritual performed with every bite. I vow in this moment to appreciate my meal times more, whether away on vacation or at home on any so-called regular day.

14:54 A few other guests passed by, some nodding in greeting, others as lost in their own scene as I am. The garden feels like a shared secret, but one that everyone can be a part of. We all seem to know the rules that are to stroll or sit in quiet reflection and to take deep breaths once we walk through the gate. I returned to my room to gather my things, taking time to do so. I stand at the window one last time, committing the view to memory. I fold the robe and leave it on the bed, smooth the quilt that lies at the foot and thank the room for welcoming me in for these few days.

15:47 Down at the front desk, I'm thanked and wished a beautiful rest of summer, and we schedule my stay for next year on the same weekend. We wave as if it's good bye until then, even though we'll see each other around the village in the meantime. It's all part of the fun of a weekend away in your own town. As I walk home, Wheeling my small suitcase behind me and only a few blocks away, I realize I feel different. Not changed, but renewed. The familiar houses I pass, the sidewalks I've walked 1000 times. They all look slightly altered, as if lit or giving off a vibration from within.

16:41 I've stayed in my own village, yet I've seen it with new eyes again. Knowing I'll return to The Secret Garden. Bed and Breakfast will remind me to plant more flowers in my own backyard, to slow down when I'm eating each meal, to sip rather than gulp. I also feel incredibly fortunate that I have no need to escape my surroundings. But I do it because it's fun sometimes, to step out of the ordinary and find something hidden in the familiar. It's good for the soul to sit in a garden and watch the blooms unfold around you.

17:29 It's magical to have a secret that feels newly special each time you visit, even if that secret is only a few blocks from home. I wish you sweet dreams.