⚓️ 🚣‍♂️ At the Harbourfront - The Slow Life Stories - Bedtime Stories for Adults - Calming Stories for Grownups and All Ages

0:02 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 At the Harbour Front and it's about brightly coloured houses, refreshing salty air and a rhythm that any one can relax too. I've spent my morning in the backyard still cleaning out some of the garden beds and planting seeds in the ones that were ready.

0:49 Back in the house to get cleaned up, I have a shower and get myself some lunch. A glass of pink lemonade and a wine glass tops the meal off nicely. From the front closet, I pull out a small backpack with skinny straps to carry only the necessities for a stroll on the harbour front. My keys, my wallet for a drink and a treat when I want a little something, a book to read on a bench or seated at a cafe, and my journal for when my thoughts want to be remembered or inspiration strikes.

1:36 I've dressed in a couple of layers as the air will become inevitably warmer as the day opens up. Most of the village is awake by now as I make my way through the streets lined with trees sporting new leaves and some still with red buds about to burst. Their houses make their own statements with paint and all colours, red with white trim, Navy blue with an orange door, deep purple with a copper coloured metal roof, yellows of every shade and every colour in between and on either end.

2:25 After a few more blocks I start to hear the creaking of the ships and their mooring lines, securing them to the Wharf. Over the tops of some of the houses I can see the taller masts keeping time as they tick tock back and forth ever so gently. I try to slow my steps to their rhythm, but the timing is more suited to my breath than to the pace of my stride. Coming around the corner of an emerald green two-story home, I come into full view of the water crossing the street right away. The sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk soon change into the echoing tap of the sturdy boardwalk under foot. I take in the sounds of the Symphony as a whole at first, not favouring one over the other as they fade in and out in turn. In the hollow underneath the thick beams, I hear the water lapping against the wooden pilings that hold up the Wharf. I'm not sure I could get my arms around their huge circumference if I tried.

3:55 The breeze is almost nonexistent, so any movement of the boats is being caused by others coming in or out of their berths, alongside the many wharves of different sizes. The salty air carries into the rest of the village, but having the water insight turns up the dial, encouraging deep breaths to let it really sink in. A sound I've come to appreciate is the call of the seagulls. Sometimes it's quick, sometimes it's drawn out and is the crescendo to the harbour front.

4:39 Sounds then fades away for a while until they make themselves known again. They don't seem to be in more of a rush than anyone else does around here. They know they'll get what they came for, but thankfully these ones aren't pushy about it. I watch one of them land on the seat of an empty Dory, the white feathers standing out against the thick red paint. It's a funny sight, like seeing a dog sitting in the front seat of a car, ready to be chauffeured around. I think of the Dory races too that take place here every summer.

5:30 It's fun to watch and the village forms an entire festival around the event. The harbor front is like being in a painting. The view from all angles is something out of storybooks. The sun sparkles on the ripples of the water. The perk and gardens across the way offer a year round beautiful sight to see. It is still a working harbor, so there's always some activity going on. Boat tours have started up for the season, including sailing adventures on which you can sit back and let the crew do the work, and others where you can pitch in and learn the ropes. I see some folks lined up to board a boat that will take them whale watching, something I've put on my list to do in the coming months as well.

6:35 Walking further on, there are bright posters pinned on a community bulletin board. Bold Titles announced the upcoming Busker Festival. I see the names I've never heard of, knowing there's a guarantee of good music and dancing in the streets, juggling and other acts and laughter echoing through the village in just a few weeks time. There's a cafe just ahead of me that puts a skip in my step. I must be on a lemonade kick as this will be my second of the day, The Tang of lemons surrounding my tongue as I find my way back out to the boardwalk.

7:25 I reached the end of the wharves and sit down, letting my legs dangle over the edge. The wood beneath me is warm from the sun and smooth from years of weather and use. Sitting below the conversations being had by those passing by, I can really TuneIn to the creaking of the ropes, the protective buoys and tires being squeezed by the bigger ships nudging up against them. The tiny waves tapping at the wooden halls is one of my favorite sounds and I let myself become a bit hypnotized by the boats gentle sway.

8:13 It's a rhythm I can relax into. At the far end of the harbour there's a bench I've come to favour. It sits where it offers the best view, uninterrupted water stretching out to the horizon past the scattered boats at anchor. I can sit and simply watch, or I might pull out my book and journal on my way towards it. I'll get a drink, a hot one this time. Eventually I'll rise and continue walking, but not yet.

8:54 For now, I'm exactly where I need to be, at the harbour front. I've spent my morning in the backyard still cleaning out some of the garden beds and planting seeds in the ones that were ready. Back in the house to get cleaned up, I have a shower and get myself some lunch. A glass of pink lemonade and a wine glass tops the meal off nicely. From the front closet, I pull out a small backpack with skinny straps to carry only the necessities for a stroll on the harbour front. My keys, my wallet for a drink and a treat when I want a little something, a book to read on a bench or seated at a cafe, and my journal for when my thoughts want to be remembered or inspiration strikes.

10:06 I've dressed in a couple of layers as the air will become inevitably warmer as the day opens up. Most of the village is awake by now as I make my way through the streets lined with trees sporting new leaves and some still with red buds about to burst. Their houses make their own statements with paint and all colours, red with white trim, Navy blue with an orange door, deep purple with a copper coloured metal roof, yellows of every shade and every colour in between and on either end.

10:54 After a few more blocks I start to hear the creaking of the ships and their mooring lines, securing them to the Wharf. Over the tops of some of the houses I can see the taller masts keeping time as they tick tock back and forth ever so gently. I try to slow my steps to their rhythm, but the timing is more suited to my breath than to the pace of my stride. Coming around the corner of an emerald green two-story home, I come into full view of the water crossing the street right away. The sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk soon change into the echoing tap of the sturdy boardwalk under foot. I take in the sounds of the Symphony as a whole at first, not favouring one over the other as they fade in and out in turn. In the hollow underneath the thick beams, I hear the water lapping against the wooden pilings that hold up the Wharf. I'm not sure I could get my arms around their huge circumference if I tried.

12:24 The breeze is almost nonexistent, so any movement of the boats is being caused by others coming in or out of their berths, alongside the many wharves of different sizes. The salty air carries into the rest of the village, but having the water insight turns up the dial, encouraging deep breaths to let it really sink in. A sound I've come to appreciate is the call of the seagulls. Sometimes it's quick, sometimes it's drawn out and is the crescendo to the harbour front.

13:08 Sounds then fades away for a while until they make themselves known again. They don't seem to be in more of a rush than anyone else does around here. They know they'll get what they came for, but thankfully these ones aren't pushy about it. I watch one of them land on the seat of an empty Dory, the white feathers standing out against the thick red paint. It's a funny sight, like seeing a dog sitting in the front seat of a car, ready to be chauffeured around. I think of the Dory races too that take place here every summer.

13:59 It's fun to watch and the village forms an entire festival around the event. The harbor front is like being in a painting. The view from all angles is something out of story books. The sun sparkles on the ripples of the water. The perk and gardens across the way offer a year round beautiful sight to see. It is still a working harbour so there's always some activity going on. Boat tours have started up for the season, including sailing adventures on which you can sit back and let the crew do the work, and others where you can pitch in and learn the ropes. I see some folks lined up to board a boat that will take them whale watching, something I've put on my list to do in the coming months as well.

15:04 Walking further on, there are bright posters pinned on a community bulletin board. Bold Titles announced the upcoming Busker Festival. I see the names I've never heard of, knowing there's a guarantee of good music and dancing in the streets, juggling and other acts and laughter echoing through the village in just a few weeks time. There's a cafe just ahead of me that puts a skip in my step. I must be on a lemonade kick as this will be my second of the day, The Tang of lemons surrounding my tongue as I find my way back out to the boardwalk.

15:54 I reached the end of the wharves and sit down, letting my legs dangle over the edge. The wood beneath me is warm from the sun and smooth from years of weather and use. Sitting below the conversations being had by those passing by, I can really TuneIn to the creaking of the ropes, the protective buoys and tires being squeezed by the bigger ships nudging up against them. The tiny waves tapping at the wooden halls is one of my favorite sounds and I let myself become a bit hypnotized by the boats gentle sway.

16:42 It's a rhythm I can relax into. At the far end of the harbour there's a bench I've come to favour. It sits where it offers the best view, uninterrupted water stretching out to the horizon past the scattered boats at anchor. I can sit and simply watch, or I might pull out my book and journal on my way towards it. I'll get a drink, a hot one this time. Eventually I'll rise and continue walking, but not yet.

17:23 For now, I'm exactly where I need to be. I wish you sweet dreams.