The Lilac Booth, Part 2 (Encore)

all while supporting the show you love.

Subscribe now.

“Hi, I'm Katherine Nikolai, and if you're looking for something gentle to listen to, that”

isn't news or true crime or self-improvement, I made this for you. What's from the village of nothing much is like easy listening, but for fiction, cozy, warm, calm stories about ordinary moments that feel a little magical. They're grounding, soothing, and quietly uplifting, without being cheesy. Relaxing, without putting you to sleep, and just dreamy enough to remind you that they're

still sweetness in everyday life.

Click for your commute while you're tidying up, or when you want a little escape, that feels simple and good. Search for stories from the village of nothing much, wherever you listen. To bed time stories for everyone in which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.

I'm Katherine Nikolai, I write and read all the stories you hear on nothing much happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past. It could have been recorded with different equipment and a different location, and since

I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different, but the stories

are always soothing and family friendly, and our wishes for you are always deep-brast

and sweet dreams. I have a tried and true method for sending you off to sleep, a way to engage your mind just enough to shepherd it into a quiet pasture without giving it the zoomies.

“I use as the ancient technology of storytelling, and all you need to do is listen.”

Follow the sound of my voice, and know that this is a form of brain training. If you're new to it, keep coming back, regular use will improve your response. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to turn a story back on. Our story tonight is called the lilac booth, part two, and it's a story about a lovely

spring day at the farmers market, and the sweet smell of a favorite flower. It's also about street food and sunshine, memories pulled forward by a breath of perfume, crumbled dollar bills, and the kind of beauty that can sit on your windowsill. Did you know that even clear, clean looking tap water can contain contaminants, things like chlorine, lead, and even what are called forever chemicals, and surprisingly most

standard fridge or picture filters don't remove many of them.

“That's why I want to share with you Aqua True.”

It's a countertop water purifier that uses force stage reverse osmosis system to remove up to 84 contaminants, including heavy metals, microplastics, and those forever chemicals that can build up over time. And it's simple. There's no installation, you don't need a plumber, you just set it on your counter and

use it. I've been using mine for over a year now, and I love it. So if you've ever worried about what's in your drinking water, this is a really easy way to just take that worry off your shoulders. Go to aquatru.com now for 20% of your purifier using promo code nothing much.

Aquatru even comes with a 30 day best tasting water guarantee. That's aquatru.com, AQU-A-T-R-U, dot com with promo code nothing much.

Set it down. It's okay too.

I'll take the next watch.

“Let your body relax into the sheets and feel how good it is to be done with today.”

Take a deep breath in through your nose, let it out your mouth, nice, one more, breathe in, and out. The market was just starting to get busy, and we were ready. I took one more look around to assure myself of that. Yeah, we were ready.

I'd been up early before the dew had dried on the grass, or the chill had left the air.

“To clip buckets and buckets full of lilac stems for today.”

Me and my small crew of volunteers had snipped for more than an hour, but still had and emptied the bushes that grew all over the patch of land surrounding my farmhouse. I was glad for that. There were still more sweet smelling, mostly purple blooms for the folks that stopped to pick

them in the next week or so before they were gone for another year.

I say mostly purple, because since I'd become the steward of the lilacs, I'd planted

“many new varieties, including yellow and rose red ones.”

We had bright blue and pale pink and stark white flowers. They all carried the signature scent of lilac, which is a deep sweetness, like a jasmine, whipped and honey, slightly powdery, and with just a bit of green and citrus. The van ride on our way to the market had been so fragrant, I could still smell the flowers on my skin and sweatshirt.

We'd buckled all the pales into the cargo space, settled in around the boxes of donated faces, and slowly and carefully bumped our way into town. The market is a long low building on the edge of downtown, half of it is an open air space, pinks of wooden stalls, with spaces behind them, where sellers could pull up and unload their wares.

The other half was enclosed, a long wide hull, with cracked green tiles on the floor, and vendors on either side. All tables were also set up here and there, tucked in beside the entrance, and a few running down the sidewalk for smaller, home-run businesses and makers. There was a coffee cart in the parking lot, a nice cream truck at the curb, and a few pop-ups

stands selling empanados and on a giri, and flavored iced teas. A woman with a guitar was busking by the row of benches in the sun. We'd been able to get one of the outdoor spots for today, and I was glad about it.

everyone who passed by looked to be enjoying it.

“I was like watching a battery charge, or a time-lapse video of a plant after it's been”

watered. Faces spread with smiles. People took deep breaths, and shrugged out of their sweaters, and tied them around their waist. They lifted their faces to the light, and the weight seemed to lift from their shoulders. My lights looking out at them as I arranged

lilacs into vases. We thought about just wrapping the bouquets in newspaper, tying them

with ribbon. But we guessed many of the flowers sold would be gifted, and handing someone

“a bouquet that needs to be re-cut and arranged, as a bit like gifting someone a chore. In”

our vases, they would be ready to set, on any table or window sill, just as they were. And once I put the word out, that I was looking for donated vases, lots of folks turned out to have way more than we could use. So we hadn't needed to spend a cent, to upgrade our blooms for our customers. We prepared a few dozen vases and set them out in rows and bunches in our booth. My helpers were ready with change in their aprons, and soon we had

“our first customers. People who were drawn by the cent, you could see their faces change,”

as they breathed in the cent, the way they were transported instantly to some other time, in place by the perfume. Many told us of the lilac tree, they'd had in their backyard growing up, or how it was their ants' favorite flower. How those memories had come rushing back, with one breath of the cent. It was something I'd heard so many times, and knew myself to be true. By midday we were down to our last three buckets of blooms, and I was putting

together vases of them as fast as I could. We told customers about my farmhouse in the country, surrounded by lilac bushes in every direction. How I'd been a lilac thief, but was now reformed. How the money we were raising today would help the monarch habitat, cross from the elementary school. A few people had been to the farm before, and seen the signs, encouraging them to stop,

and take home a few stems. But there were plenty who had never smelled a lilac.

And I hoped we were creating a memory for them, that they could return to many time. I swapped jobs with an hour to go, and let someone else handle bundling the stems. I wrapped one of the aprons around me, noticing that we had indeed raised a good bit of cash already. As I walked around to the front of the booth, to appreciate this little dream that I had brought the life.

She was counting them out and looking at the vases.

“Trying to decide if she had enough for the big one in the center of the table.”

I called out to the volunteer behind the booth that, since it was almost the end of the day, we should put everything on sale for half off. She looked down at the little girl,

and nodded at me with a wink. Good call boss, she said.

The girl handed over her dollars, and walked out with the largest vase we had.

“Her arms had barely wrapped around it, and her face poked through the stems.”

I knew she might have bought them to gift to a parent or grandparents.

But I sort of hoped they were all for her, that she would set them on her bedside table,

and that the perfume of them would work its way into her dreams as she slept. Yes, it could lead her to a life of crime, a life like my own, the life of a lilac thief.

“But I thought the world needed more of us, more people, driven by a love for beautiful things.”

The lilac booth, part two, the market was just starting to get busy. And we were ready. I took one more look around to assure myself of that. Yeah, we were ready. I'd been up early before the dew had dried on the grass, where the chill had left the air. To clip buckets and buckets full of lilac stems for today. Me and my small crew of volunteers had snipped for more than an hour,

but still hadn't emptied the bushes that grew all over the patch of land, surrounding my old farmhouse. I was glad for that. There were still more sweet smelling, mostly purple blooms, for the folks that stopped to pick them in the next week or so, before they were gone for another year. I say mostly purple, because, since I'd become the steward of the lilacs, I'd planted many new varieties, including yellow and rose red ones.

We had bright blue and pale pink and stark white flowers. They all carried the signature scent of lilac, which was a deep sweetness, like a Jasmine dipped in honey, slightly powdery, and with just a bit of green and citrus.

I could still smell the flowers on my skin and sweatshirt.

“We buckled all the pales into our cargo space,”

settled in around the boxes of donated faces, and slowly and carefully bumped our way into town. The market is a long low building on the edge of downtown. Half of it is an open air space,

banks of wooden stalls with spaces behind them, where sellers could pull up and unload their

wares. The other half was enclosed, long wide hall, with cracked green tiles on the floor,

“inventors on either side. Small tables were also set up here and there,”

tucked in beside the entrance, and a few running down the sidewalk,

for smaller, home-run businesses, and makers. There was a coffee cart in the parking lot,

a nice green truck at the curb, and a few pop-up stands, selling empanadas, and on a curie, and flavored iced teas. A woman with a guitar was busking by the row of benches in the sun.

“We'd been able to get one of the outdoor spots for today. When I was glad about it,”

the air had warmed a good bit since I'd been picking flowers in the early morning. And everyone who passed by looked to be enjoying it. It was like watching a battery charge or a time-lapse video of a plant after it's been watered. Faces spread with smiles, people took deep breaths, and shrugged out of their sweaters, and tied them around their waist. They lifted their faces to the light, and wait seemed to lift from their shoulders.

My lights looking out at them as I arranged lilacs into vases. We thought about just wrapping the bouquet's in newspaper, tying them with ribbon. But we guessed many of the flowers we sold would be gifted, and handing someone the bouquet that needs to be re-cut and arranged. It was a bit like gifting someone a chore. In our vases, they would be ready to set

on any table or window cell just as they were. And once I put the word out that I was looking for donated vases, lots of folks turned out to have way more than they could use.

We'd prepared a few dozen vases and set them out in rows and bunches in our booth.

“My helpers were ready with change in their aprons, and soon we had our first customers.”

People who were drawn by the smell, you could see their faces change as they breathed in the sent. The way they were transported instantly to some other time and place by the perfume. Many told us of the lilac tree they'd had in their backyard growing up.

Or how this was their ants' favorite flower.

How those memories had come rushing back with one breath of the sent.

“It was something I'd heard so many times, a new myself to be true.”

By midday, we were down to our last three buckets of blooms. When I was putting together vases of them, as fast as I could. We told customers about my farmhouse in the country. Surrounded by lilac bushes in every direction. Pow, I'd been a lilac thief, but was now reformed.

“How the money we were raising today would help the monarch habitat across from the elementary school.”

A few people had been to the farm before. I'd seen the signs encouraging them to stop and take home a few stems.

But there were plenty who never smelled a lilac.

I hoped we were creating a memory for them, that they could return to many times. I swapped jobs with an hour to go and let someone else handle bundling stems. I wrapped one of the aprons around me. Noticing that we had indeed raised a good bit of cash already. As I walked around to the front of the booth,

to appreciate this dream that I had brought to life. I noticed a little girl 10 or 11 digging in her pockets for crumpled up dollar bills. She was counting them out when looking at the vases. Trying to decide if she had enough for the big one in the center of the table. I called out to the volunteer behind the booth.

That's since it was almost the end of the day. We should put everything on sale for half off. She looked down at the little girl and nodded at me with a wink. "Good call boss," she said. The girl handed over her dollars.

Her arms had barely wrapped around it, and her face poked through the stems.

“I knew she might have bought them to gift.”

A parent or a grandparent, but I sort of hoped they were all for her.

That she would set them on her bedside table,

“and that the perfume of them would work its way into her dreams as she slept.”

Yes, it could lead her to a life of crime, life like my own.

A life of a lilac thief.

“But I thought the world needed more of us.”

More people driven by a love for beautiful things. Sweet dreams.