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

Welcome to The Slow Life - A village filled with cozy stories for everyone. This story is called Spring Bake Sale, and it’s about the smell of coffee, helping the animals, and extravagant treats on every table.

🇨🇦 These stories are written, edited and narrated by Jennifer Zwicker.

~~~~

Benefits of listening to cozy stories or adult bedtime stories with The Slow Life:

1. Relaxation and Stress Relief

• You want to unwind after a stressful day.

• The gentle pacing, soothing tone, and comforting narratives help calm your mind and body.

2. Help Falling Asleep

• Many people use bedtime stories as a sleep aid. We’ve been told ours help.

• A calming story distracts from anxious or racing thoughts, making it easier to drift off. Especially with a second reading as we have, because you already know what happens.

3. Comfort and Nostalgia

• You’re looking for the emotional safety and warmth that often comes with familiar or gently imaginative stories.

• Cozy stories can evoke fond childhood memories or a sense of being cared for.

4. Escape and Imagination

• A peaceful story can provide a gentle escape from reality without overstimulation.

• Listeners enjoy being transported to a calm village, a peaceful garden, or a quaint and cozy inn.

5. Mindfulness and Presence

• The slow, descriptive nature of cozy storytelling encourages a mindful focus on the present.

• It can be a form of meditative listening, grounding you, the listener, in sensory details and slow pacing.

6. Companionship and Connection

• Perhaps, for people who live alone or feel lonely, a narrator’s voice can feel like friendly company.

• It’s a quiet, non-demanding form of social presence.

🧡 Bedtime stories for grown ups

🧡 Bedtime stories for kids

🧡 Meditation story

At the Harbourfront is a story about taking a stroll along the waterfront in the village. There is beauty, there is comfort. It may help put you to sleep. Calming stories to help you sleep. Relieve anxiety.

⚠️ Take care listening while driving or doing any activity that requires your full attention.

• All stories - Copyright Jennifer Zwicker 2024, 2025

Episode Transcript

(00:02):
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

(00:23):
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 someof the garden beds and planting

(00:45):
seeds in the ones that were ready.
Back in the house to get cleanedup, 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

(01:09):
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 littlesomething, a book to read on a
bench or seated at a cafe, and my journal for when my thoughts

(01:31):
want to be remembered or inspiration strikes.
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

(01:56):
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

(02:18):
every shade and every colour in between and on either end.
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

(02:40):
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

(03:03):
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

(03:26):
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

(03:50):
around their huge circumference if I tried.
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.

(04:11):
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

(04:35):
it's drawn out and is the crescendo to the harbour front.
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

(04:59):
ones aren't pushy about it. I watch one of them land on the
seat of an empty Dory, the whitefeathers 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

(05:20):
chauffeured around. I think of the Dory races too
that take place here every summer.
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

(05:44):
something out of storybooks. The sun sparkles on the ripples
of the water. The perk and gardens across the
way offer a year round beautifulsight to see.
It is still a working harbor, sothere's always some activity

(06:04):
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

(06:25):
board a boat that will take themwhale watching, something I've
put on my list to do in the coming months as well.
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

(06:50):
of, knowing there's a guarantee of good music and dancing in the
streets, juggling and other actsand 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.

(07:11):
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.
I reached the end of the wharvesand sit down, letting my legs
dangle over the edge. The wood beneath me is warm from

(07:35):
the sun and smooth from years ofweather 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 beingsqueezed by the bigger ships

(07:57):
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.
It's a rhythm I can relax into. At the far end of the harbour

(08:21):
there's a bench I've come to favour.
It sits where it offers the bestview, 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.

(08:44):
I'll get a drink, a hot one thistime.
Eventually I'll rise and continue walking, but not yet.
For now, I'm exactly where I need to be, at the harbour
front. I've spent my morning in the

(09:09):
backyard still cleaning out someof the garden beds and planting
seeds in the ones that were ready.
Back in the house to get cleanedup, I have a shower and get
myself some lunch. A glass of pink lemonade and a
wine glass tops the meal off nicely.

(09:33):
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 littlesomething, a book to read on a

(09:54):
bench or seated at a cafe, and my journal for when my thoughts
want to be remembered or inspiration strikes.
I've dressed in a couple of layers as the air will become
inevitably warmer as the day opens up.

(10:15):
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,

(10:41):
deep purple with a copper coloured metal roof, yellows of
every shade and every colour in between and on either end.
After a few more blocks I start to hear the creaking of the
ships and their mooring lines, securing them to the Wharf.

(11:05):
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

(11:26):
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

(11:49):
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

(12:12):
pilings that hold up the Wharf. I'm not sure I could get my arms
around their huge circumference if I tried.
The breeze is almost nonexistent, so any movement of
the boats is being caused by others coming in or out of their

(12:34):
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

(12:58):
is the call of the seagulls. Sometimes it's quick, sometimes
it's drawn out and is the crescendo to the harbour front.
Sounds then fades away for a while until they make themselves
known again. They don't seem to be in more of

(13:19):
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 whitefeathers standing out against

(13:40):
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.
It's fun to watch and the village forms an entire festival

(14:04):
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 beautifulsight to see.

(14:28):
It is still a working harbour sothere'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

(14:54):
board a boat that will take themwhale watching, something I've
put on my list to do in the coming months as well.
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

(15:19):
of, knowing there's a guarantee of good music and dancing in the
streets, juggling and other actsand 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.

(15:40):
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.
I reached the end of the wharvesand sit down, letting my legs
dangle over the edge. The wood beneath me is warm from

(16:05):
the sun and smooth from years ofweather 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 beingsqueezed by the bigger ships

(16:26):
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.
It's a rhythm I can relax into. At the far end of the harbour

(16:50):
there's a bench I've come to favour.
It sits where it offers the bestview, 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.

(17:13):
I'll get a drink, a hot one thistime.
Eventually I'll rise and continue walking, but not yet.
For now, I'm exactly where I need to be.
I wish you sweet dreams.