I bought a pumpkin spice candle at HomeSense yesterday. I buy one every year around this time. I know it's still technically summer, but I don't care. I'm ready. I'm ready for flannel shirts and soup and long walks through crunchy leaves. I'm ready for autumn. And there's nothing like sleeping with your window open on a cool September night when you burrow under warm blankets while crisp fresh air fills your bedroom. It's sleep perfection. If your window isn't open right now and it's cool enough where you are, seriously consider it, because your body actually needs to drop its core temperature by two to three degrees to fall asleep when your bedroom is too warm.You're fighting biology, but that cool air flowing in, it's working with your natural sleep mechanisms, helping trigger drowsiness. Tonight's episode is designed to work with those same natural rhythms. I'm going to take you to a maple orchard in Vermont where the trees are just beginning their autumn transformation.You'll follow Tom, a maple syrup farmer, as he makes his evening rounds, checking his trees in that perfect golden hour light. Tom's unhurried movements, the rich sensory details of the orchard, the way he notices things most of us rush past. It all creates the perfect mental environment for sleep.Your mind gets absorbed in the beautiful rhythm of his work, while your nervous system responds to the seasonal cues that prepare us for rest. But before we head to that orchard, I just want to remind you that you need to be somewhere safe to listen. Never listen while doing anything that requires you to stay alert. This episode is designed to guide you straight into sleep. And if these episodes are helping you drift off, I'd be very grateful if you would hit that follow button. When you follow the show, it tells me that there's actually someone out there listening.And that's what keeps me recording these episodes at ridiculous hours, instead of just lighting my pumpkin candle and calling it a night. Now let's help your body settle into that perfect autumn sleep mode. Find the most comfortable position you can.Adjust your pillow, shift your shoulders, and wiggle your toes. There's no rush. When you're ready, take a slow deep breath in through your nose and let it flow out gently through your mouth.Nice. Do that again. In through your nose and out through your mouth with a nice long exhale.Continue breathing this way as we check in with your body. Notice your shoulders. Are they holding tension from the day? Let them drop down. Away from your ears. Feel your jaw soften, your hands unclenching, and maybe your legs have been carrying stress too. Let them sink heavily into your bed.You did your best today. And I know that might not feel like enough sometimes. The world asks a lot of us.But right now, in this moment, you've done what you could. And that's genuinely enough. Your only job now is to rest.If your eyes aren't already closed, let them drift shut. Feel the weight of your eyelids. How they want to stay closed.How much effort it would take to open them again. Just let them rest. Continue with those long slow breaths.In through your nose, out through your mouth. And feel your whole body growing heavier with each exhale. Whatever happened today and whatever's waiting for tomorrow.None of it needs your attention right now. Let it all drift away. There will be time for everything else later.But for now, there's only this moment, this breath, and there's only Tom waiting for us in his maple orchard. This green door closed with a gentle creak behind Tom as he stepped onto the farmhouse porch. The worn wooden boards familiar under his boots.September evenings in Vermont had their own particular magic. And tonight was no exception. The air carried that first real hint of autumn. Not quite cold, but crisp enough that he pulled on his favorite flannel shirt, the blue and green plaid one that had grown soft from years of washing. Over it, he wore his canvas work jacket, the pockets heavy with the small tools of his trade. Tom paused for a moment, breathing in deeply.The air smelled different now than it had just a week ago. Summer's heavy sweetness was giving way to something earthier, richer. He could smell the maple leaves just beginning their transformation.That distinctive scent that meant his trees were preparing for the long sleep of winter. Mixed with it was the faint smokiness from someone's chimney a few farms over. The first fire of the season, probably, his golden retriever, maple, trotted up beside him. She knew his routine as well as he did. For 23 years, Tom had made these evening rounds through his sugar maple orchard, checking on the trees, ensuring the equipment was secure, simply being present with the land that sustained his family. Come on, girl, he said quietly.And together, they walked down the gravel path. The maples stretched before them in neat, widely spaced rows. Not the dense forest that many people imagined, but a carefully tended grove of ancient sugar maples, some over a century old. Their trunks were massive, easily three feet across. Their bark deeply furrowed and covered in patches of soft gray green moss. Each tree bore the small round scars of previous years tapping.Tiny wounds that had healed over, proof of the generations of careful harvesting that had taken place here, coiled against many of the trunks. Tom could see the blue plastic tubing that would carry next spring's sap to the collection tanks. For now, it hung dormant, waiting.But Tom checked it anyways, running his hands along the lines, ensuring storms hadn't loosened any connections. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, creating pools of soft light on the forest floor. Some of the maples were just beginning to show their fall colors.A touch of yellow at the edges of the leaves, hints of orange and red that would, in a few weeks, transform this orchard into something spectacular. But tonight, it was the in-between time, summer slowly releasing its hold. Tom moved unhurriedly between the trees. His practiced eye noting everything. Here was the old grandmother maple, easily the largest tree in the orchard, her spreading canopy providing shelter for countless creatures. At her base, he spotted the familiar sight of gray squirrels gathering the fallen nuts, their cheeks bulging comically as they prepared for winter.They barely glanced at him. After all these years, Tom was simply part of their landscape. The forest floor beneath his feet was soft and yielding, cushioned by decades of fallen leaves that had decomposed into rich, dark soil.His boots made almost no sound as he walked, just the occasional crunch of a dry twig or the rustle of leaves still clinging to low branches. Maple stayed close, occasionally darting off to investigate an interesting scent, but always returning to his side. As Tom checked a section of tubing near the orchard's edge, a barn owl called from somewhere deep in the woods beyond his property.The sound was haunting and beautiful. Soon the owl would begin its nightly hunt, gliding silently between the trees on wings designed for perfect stealth. The air was growing cooler now as the sun sank lower.Tom pulled his jacket a little closer and continued his rounds. Each tree had its own personality, its own history. This one had been damaged by an ice storm five years ago, but had recovered. That one had given exceptional sap yields last spring. Another showed signs that a family of raccoons had tried to explore the tubing connections. No damage done, just evidence of their curiosity.A red squirrel shattered at him from high overhead. Apparently offended by his presence, Tom smiled and kept walking. In the distance, he could see Maple investigating something near the old stone wall that marked the eastern boundary of their property, probably at Chipmunk Burrow.The little striped creatures were everywhere this time of year, frantically gathering seeds and nuts. Shadows were growing longer, and the first bats were beginning to appear. Tiny dark shapes flickering between the trees as they hunted insects.Tom loved this time of day. When the boundary between afternoon and evening blurred, when the orchard settled into its nighttime rhythm, he paused beside a particularly beautiful maple, one that stood slightly apart from the others. This tree had always been special to him, not the largest or the most productive, but perfectly shaped, with a crown that seemed to catch and hold the evening light. He placed his hand on its rough bark, feeling the solidity of it, the quiet life flowing beneath the surface. In the spring, this tree would wake from its winter dormancy and begin the mysterious process of converting stored starches into the sweet sap that would flow through his tubing to his collection tanks. But that was months away.For now, the tree was preparing for rest. Tom completed his circuit of the orchard as the sun touched the horizon. The trees were healthy, the equipment secure, the wildlife undisturbed.Maple appeared at his side, her golden fur catching the last rays of sunlight. Together, they walked back toward the farmhouse, its windows beginning to glow with warm yellow light. As they approached, Tom could smell something wonderful.Apple pie, if he wasn't mistaken. Janet must have been baking again, using apples from their own small orchard beside the house. The kitchen window was open, and he could hear the soft sounds of evening routine.Dishes being washed, the radio playing quietly, the gentle domestic symphony that meant home. A thin line of smoke rose from the chimney, carrying the scent of maple wood, their own trees harvested years ago during a necessary thinning. Tom climbed the porch steps, maple at his heels, and opened the screen door.The warmth of the house enveloped him, along with the incredible smell of freshly baked pie cooling on the counter. Janet looked up from the sink, her face lit by the soft kitchen light. Perfect timing, she said, smiling.Tom hung his jacket on the peg by the door, and he settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace, where a small fire crackled cheerfully. Maple curled up on the rug at his feet, already drowsy from their walk. Outside, full darkness was settling over the orchard, but here, inside their home, everything was warm and peaceful.Through the windows, the night sounds of the countryside began, the distant call of that barn owl, the rustle of small creatures moving through the underbrush, the gentle creaking of tree branches in the evening breeze. The maple trees stood patient and silent in the darkness, their leaves whispering secrets to the night wind. Stars began to appear one by one, ancient lights reflecting off the peaceful farmhouse windows.The moon, nearly full, cast everything in soft silver, painting the maple grove in shades of gray and black, and gentle shadow. All was quiet, all was well, all was settling into the deep peace of a September night in Vermont. Like Tom and his cozy farmhouse, you too are settling into your own safe haven for the night.This time of year gives us permission to rest as the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer. We're reminded that rest isn't something to feel guilty about, it's as natural as the maple trees preparing for their winter sleep. Take a moment to feel grateful for this safe space where you can let your guard down completely, your comfortable bed that supports your tired body, these walls that shelter you from the world, the simple gift of having somewhere peaceful to lay your head each night.Not everyone has this luxury, and tonight it's yours. Feel grateful too for the body that carried you through another day, your heart that beat steadily, your lungs that breathed without you having to think about it, your legs that walked, your hands that worked, your mind that thought and felt and experienced this day. Your body deserves this rest. It has earned this comfort as you lie here. Notice how your shoulders are sinking deeper into your pillow, how your arms and legs are growing heavier with each breath, how your breathing is becoming slower and more rhythmic like the gentle autumn breeze moving through Tom's maple trees tonight as sleep draws near. Welcome the dreams that are coming, dreams of peace and beauty, dreams of the people you love and the places that make you feel safe, dreams that restore and refresh your spirit.Your mind knows how to create exactly what you need while you sleep. Feel your body relaxing completely now, releasing the day, releasing any tension or worry like the maple orchard settling into the quiet darkness. You too are settling into the deep restorative sleep your body craves.Everything is exactly as it should be. You are safe. You are loved.You are exactly where you need to be. I'm Suzanne and this is your ticket to snooze. Rest now. Rest deeply. Rest well.