Good evening. Welcome to the Just Sleep podcast. I'm Tasia, your host.

Every week, I will read you an old story to help you relax, put the stressful day behind you, and drift off to sleep.

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Tonight, I continue the story, The Yosemite, by John Muir.

So lie down, close your eyes, and let me read you a story.

Chapter 3. Snowstorms.

As has been already stated, the first of the great snowstorms that replenish the Yosemite

fountains seldom sets in before the end of November. Then, warned by the sky,

wide-awake mountaineers, together with the deer and most of the birds, make haste to the lowlands or

foothills, and burrowing marmots, mountain beavers, wood rats, and other small mountain people,

go into winter quarters,

some of them not again to see the light of day, until the general awakening and resurrection

of the spring in June or July. The fertile clouds, drooping and condensing and brooding silence

seem to be thoughtfully examining the forests and streams, with reference

to the work that lies before them. At length, all their plans perfected, tufted flakes and single-starry

crystals come in sight, solemnly swirling and glinting to their blessed appointed places,

and soon the busy throng fills the sky

that makes darkness like night. The first heavy fall is usually from about two to four feet

in depth, then with intervals of days or weeks of bright weather, storm succeeds storm,

...