There is something so beautiful about being able to walk into a berry patch and pick food with your own hands.
I came for the strawberries, but I left with so much more.
I’ve been feeling especially grateful for the simple gifts that nourish us, not only the food we eat, but the moments that bring us back to ourselves.
Remembering my childhood days, berrypicking with my dad and siblings. There were so many of us.
Standing among the strawberry plants, reaching down to pick each little berry, I found myself appreciating just how much abundance surrounds us when we slow down enough to notice it. Sometimes nourishment comes in ways we don’t expect.
Yes, these strawberries will nourish my body. They are fresh, sweet, and full of goodness. But there was another kind of nourishment happening as I wandered through the patch—sunshine, the earth beneath my feet, the shared fellowship with my friend, and the simple picking something with my own hands.
Sometimes you have to look beneath the surface to discover what’s ready to nourish you.
We live in a world where most of our food comes neatly packaged and ready to eat.
There was something grounding about bending down, reaching into the green leaves and discovering a beautiful red strawberry waiting to be picked.
It reminded me that there is something deeply satisfying about returning to the simple things.
From blossom to berry, there is beauty in every stage of becoming.
Look closely and you’ll find abundance.
One little strawberry plant can offer so much. A patch filled with them becomes almost magical—a sea of green leaves dotted with little bursts of red.
It made me pause and think about how often abundance is right in front of us, yet we rush past it without noticing.
Sometimes, nourishment looks like simply being here.
I’m learning that nourishment isn’t only about what we put on our plate.
It’s also about what we allow into our lives. The places we spend time. The people we surround ourselves with. The moments we choose to slow down and savour.
So, as I stood in that strawberry patch with a basket filling one berry at a time, I felt grateful. Grateful for the earth.
Grateful for the hands that planted and cared for these berries. And grateful that I could simply be there, picking fruit that would nourish my body while the experience itself nourished something deeper within me.
From my little corner of the world.
Sue
P.S. “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.” — Henry David Thoreau
This past weekend, I dusted off my trusty Nikon camera and headed to the local Rawhide Rodeo in Wetaskiwin Alberta. It has been quite some time since I had photographed an event, and I was unsure if I would remember all the camera settings for the outside elements of the action at hand. As I stood behind the lens once again, a familiar excitement slowly returned, which produced an upward smile upon my face.
Capturing memories one click at a time.
A rodeo is packed full of fast paced action. Hundreds of horses thunder across the arena, competitors are fully focused on the task at hand before them, and the many spectators loudly cheer from the old wooden stands. Yet beyond all the hype and excitement, what truly touched me the most, were the emotions woven throughout the weekend.
Horses have always been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up on a farm, we always had a few pleasure riding horses for our family of 13 kids. Later, during my years of marriage, I married into a chuckwagon racing family, where thoroughbred horses became a big part of my life as I knew it.
Over the years many horses came and went, each one leaving their own imprint on my heart. Some more than others. There were always favorites, only because they hold such personalities, very much like a human being.
I came to appreciate their spirit, strength, and intelligence. Horses have an incredible ability to sense your energy and respond to it. They teach us presence, patience, and trust. Little did I know how much all of this, would contribute to moving forward in my life’s journey.
The bond through energy.
Some of my favorite moments to capture, are the children. Whether they are nervously waiting for their turn to compete, proudly anticipating in an event, or simply watching with wide-eyed wonder from behind the fence, their bold bright beaming joy is contagious.
Through my lens, I captured moments that may one day become treasured memories for them and their families.
The mini chuckwagons were another great highlight of the weekend. The excitement, teamwork, and determination packed into those drivers and colorful teams brought smiles and cheering to everyone watching. It was impossible not to get caught up in the energy and enthusiasm.
As I sorted through thousands of action packed photographs, I realized I wasn’t simply taking pictures. I was preserving memorable moments. Moments for others, and then more importantly, I realized that this is also a source of therapy for me.
It gives me great pride in capturing a split second of courage, true grit, a proud smile of accomplishment. A horse and rider working together as one. A family sharing an important experience. Team work. Memories that might otherwise be forgotten with time.
In capturing all the unique action this weekend, one determined barrel racer caught my attention. As she came around the third barrel, her magnificent horse suddenly acted up, and it caught her off guard with the flow of the run, and she was completely taken off balance.
For a moment, she was hanging off the side of her horse, holding on as tight as she could to the saddle horn above. Through some amazing power, she never let go. Determined and focused, she managed to pull herself back up into the saddle and continue on her run.
As I witnessed and photographed the entire sequence, I couldn’t help but see a reflection of life. Sometimes we find ourselves on a path we believe we are destined to travel, only to be thrown off course by unexpected challenges.
Life doesn’t always unfold the way we planned. At times, there may be setbacks, disappointments, and moments when we feel as though we are hanging by a thread. Yet somehow, we find the strength to pull ourselves back up, regain our footing, and continue forward.
I was incredibly proud of this young woman. Her determination reminded me that courage isn’t about never failing; it’s about refusing to stay down when life tries to unseat you.
I am grateful to live in Canada, where communities continue to gather and celebrate traditions like the rodeo. There is something special about people coming together to enjoy simple pleasures, support one another, and create lasting memories.
This weekend reminded me that sometimes we don’t realize how much we’ve missed something until we return to it. Looking through the viewfinder once again felt like reconnecting with a piece of myself.
And perhaps that is the true gift of photography–not simply capturing what we see, but helping us remember what we love.
From my little corner of the world.
Sue
P.S. “Sometimes life throws us from the saddle we thought we were meant to ride. The strength isn’t in never falling–it’s in finding the courage to climb back on and continue the journey.” Sue Fraser
Thank you for reading and do feel free to share. I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings, please tap on the red coffee cup link on the bottom right, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.
It’s been many months since I last sat down to write.
My previous blog, A Pause Between Chapters: The Gift Within Divorce, shared some of the most difficult and transformative years of my life. I wrote about loss, healing, horses, nature and the unexpected gifts that can emerge from heartbreak. At the time, I was learning how to survive. I was learnhing who I was apart from the roles I had held for decades. I was finding my footing again.
But then what happens after survival?
What happens when the crisis has passed, the tears are not as frequent, or almost non existent and life no longer feels like something you have to fight your way through?
Surrendering to just be.
Recently, I found myself sitting quietly in a field watching the sunset. There was nowhere I needed to be and nothing I needed to do. I was simply present with the beauty of the moment.
As I sat there, a bumble bee buzzed softly near me, and then there was nothing. Where did it go? I then felt a tickle on my bare foot.
At first, I felt a slight apprehensiveness. My first instinct was to move, to protect myself, and to make it leave. But then deep within me, I felt the need to just stay put, and allow. I took a breath, calming my whole being, and remained still and observed what my new little friend was up to.
For the next several minutes, that little bee wandered around my foot as if it had no where else to be. It wasn’t in a hurry. It wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. It was simply being.
Eventually, it lifted off, made a few circles around me, and flew away.
I sat and pondered on what just took place. As strange as it may sound to others, for me, it was truly a life lesson.
For so much of my life, I have been planning, working, fixing, helping, healing, striving, and moving toward the next thing. Yet in that moment, the bee reminded me that there is wisdom in simply being fully present. There is true beauty in surrendering to the moment rather than trying to control it.
Sometimes we don’t need to do more.
Sometimes we just simply need to be.
A day or two later, I came across an old house standing quietly on a golf course nearby. I figured it must be at least a hundred years old. Beautifully weathered by time, yet still standing strong in structure. Bright yellow flowers and deep green grass surrounds it, creating a scene that was unexpectedly beautiful on that warm spring day.
I found myself wondering about the stories that old wooden structure could tell if it could speak.
I imagined the joyful laughter it may have heard. The soft tears it may have witnessed. The day dreams that may have lived within its walls.
It truly reminded me that we are all like that old weathered unique looking house.
Each and every day of our lives becomes part of our story we create. Some chapters are filled with immense joy and laughter, while others hold loss, change, uncertainty and growth. Every experience leaves its solid imprint.
Yet no matter what has taken place before, we only ever truly have today.
Yesterday is our memories.
Tomorrow is a possiblity.
And today is where life is actually happening. This very moment.
I believe that this is what the season of my life is teaching me.
Not how to survive.
Not how to heal.
But how to be present. Fully present in all that I do.
To sit with a magnificent sunset.
To welcome natures bumble bees.
To appreciate a unique old weathered house and the stories it holds.
To trust that this moment, exactly as it is, is enough.
After years of learning how to survive, I am finally learning the gift of simply being.
Or perhaps, just bee-ing.
From my little corner of the world,
Sue
P.S. “Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.” — Eckhart Tolle
Thank you for reading and do feel free to share. I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings, please tap on the red coffee cup link on the bottom right, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.
We can plan our day to day life as much as we want, and often it never transpires in the ways that we think. It’s like driving an unknown road, where there are twists and turns, bridges, valleys and hills, and even a detour or two. And yet, we continue on.
It’s been awhile, since I sat to write my thoughts. I just put it all on the back burner for a short while. At least that is what it seems to be.
Four years ago this September, my life as I new it, changed forever. The man I had loved and married, decided to depart from our 37 year marriage. I was devastated to say the least. Throughout those 4 years, I experienced excruciating inner pain, anxiety, tears and so much more, from a heart that hurt so much from a loss.
However, what I now know today, is that through all that pain, I was given so much more, that I never knew was possible.
Healing can come in many forms. And I was so thankful, to have had my horse Devereux, to turn to when I was in such a low state. He offered himself through a connection of energy, while standing alongside him that reached far deeper than words.
The weight of his presence had a way of softening the sharp edges life sometimes leaves behind. Devereux would meet me in the moment. With no judgement.
Beyond the physical, he would awaken something spiritual within me. He took me into the space of the natural world, grounding me when I felt so overwhelmed. He made me feel a sense of belonging. In the presence of Devereux, my healing wasn’t forced– it simply unfolded.
The greatest gift he gave me, was that I didn’t need to have everything figured out. I just needed to show up, breathe and let the journey of trust and connection carry us forward. And for this experience, I am truly grateful.
Through the storm of my divorce, I discovered the quiet gift of floating out in calm waters. At first it was simply a place to escape, but over time it became a sanctuary where I could breathe, let the weight of my thoughts settle, and listen to the stillness around me.
The gentle ripples taught me patience, the vastness reminded me that life continues to flow forward, and in that space I found the strength to reflect, to release, and to continue to heal. It was in these moments, just me and the water, that I began to rediscover myself.
Divorce is never easy. It shook me to the core, stripped away what I thought my life would look like, and left me standing in a place that felt unfamiliar and raw.
For a long time, that’s where I found myself–lost between who I had been and who I was supposed to become. But what I see now, with a softer heart and clearer eyes, is that divorce is not just an ending. It can also be a beginning, a doorway into something unexpectedly beautiful.
The greatest discovery has been learning who I am apart from anyone else. For years, I measured myself through the eyes of another, but now I am learning to love myself just as I am–without conditions, without judgements, without the need for approval.
I am no longer tied to codependency. Instead, I stand on my own two feet, stronger, more grounded, and with a heart that is finally free.
Divorce has shown me that life is bigger and wider than I ever imagined. There are new adventures to take, new dreams to explore, and a whole world still waiting for me. It is proof that even in the hardest of endings, there is room for new beginnings. And in those beginnings, there is beauty.
From my little corner of the world,
Sue
P.S. “Keep going… Difficult roads can lead to beautiful destinations.” Zig Ziglar
Thank you for reading and do feel free to share. I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings, please tap on the coffee cup link, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.
Two words that can stretch out to so many more words if one sat down to really dig deep and allow your mind to wander.
Before I sat down in my comfy chair to write, I took a trip down memory lane, viewing all the thousands and thousands of colorful photos I have stored on my phone and also in the many large family photo albums that line the shelves tucked down beneath the darkened stairwell, hardly touched in a long long while.
“In the quiet corridors of reminiscence, we find the echoes of our journey–a mosaic of joy, tears, and the unspoken beauty of what once was.”
As I begin a course in writing, one of the first exercises is to write a list of phrases beginning with the words “I remember….” and see what the subconscious mind brings forth. I decided to pull a few photos out of the vault, that sparked those memories alive.
“Grandchildren fill the spaces in our hearts that we never knew were empty.”
“I remember…” those many fun filled moments with my first grandson, where he took me to a place of “Nothing Matters!’ so very often. He taught me that within each and everyone of us, there’s a kid that needs to come out and play, each and every day. From colorful masks, to batman and clown costumes, colorful Lego and tumbling building blocks, you name it, we explored it all. This, I remember well.
“The Power of Unity and Strength.”
“I remember…” the magnificent beauty of our thoroughbred horses when they were harnessed and hooked to the nostalgic chuckwagon, so eagerly heading off to the races. Four mighty hearts beating in unison, their finely trimmed hooves echoing the symphony of strength, each embodying a powerful force that moves not just a wagon, but the very spirit of teamwork and unity. This, I remember well.
“As the wheel of time spins, the bond between a son and his mom rides through life’s journey—unwavering, adventurous and always in the wind of love”
“I remember…” the immense apprehensive feeling I felt, the first time I learned from my son, of his purchase of a shiny new silver, Harley Davidson motorcycle. Although this momma raised her kids and released them to fly from the nest freely and live their ingrained vivid dreams, there always will lie within her, a concern for their utmost safety wherever their travels do take them.
“I remember…” the day my son, so excited to head on out, with an eager sense of freedom to drive the open highways with his longtime friend Tim. With his saddle bags tightly packed upon his lustrous iconic and powerful machine, the world was his oyster, awaiting to secure experiences they would forever carry to their graves, with no regret left behind.
“I remember…” the deep, throaty growl of his Harley’s engine when it came to life, as he gripped the wide handlebars, assumed a comfortable riding stance, clicked it into gear, and drove down the long paved driveway, ever so slowly. With a tear in his momma’s eyes, and a wave to say goodbye, the renowned distinctive sound gradually diminished slowly and faded until a deafening silence remained. This, I remember well.
“Guiding hand, heart full of love. Fatherhoods’ tender embrace.”
“I remember…” the warm sandy beach, the welcoming waves, and the much needed sunshine that keeps ones spirit alive. As I sat and enjoyed the breathtaking beach of Costa Rica, my eyes gazed upon the people as they walked by. I couldn’t help but notice the youthful father and his petite little daughter, with her tiny delicate little hand tucked up safely in his sizeable palm. The bond between a father and his daughter shone brightly that day. This, I remember well.
Savoring the rich notes of the last red wine, a toast to cherished moments and the timeless bond between father and daughter.“From our last shared moment to the final farewell—capturing the bittersweet beauty of love that transcends lifetimes.”
“I remember…” the final, last special day with my father. The horses had been fed and watered, our friends, fans and family had arrived to celebrate our last hurrah. Together, with my ailing father, we sat and sipped on a glass of sweet red wine, watched the rambunctious kids run on by giggling, laughing and playing, all the while just enjoying being in each others presence. This, I remember well.
“I remember…” the time had come to say our goodbyes, and deep within my heart, I knew that I knew, it would be my last. I just knew. With a hug and a kiss, and a wave goodby, he was gone. Only to come to know, that 5 short weeks later, the man that I had come to know as my father, had received his angelic wings and the soft whisper of the creator beckoned him home. This, I remember well.
“Those many enjoyous days in the barn at the Calgary Stampede barns.”“Capturing heartfel moments from the Chuckwagon Trail.”“Together we are two different people, with two different paths.”
“I remember…” and hold so many glorious memories of my time at the renowned Calgary Stampede over the past 30 something years with my family. Each recollection is a portal to a moment once lived, some so vivid and vibrant, others soft and bittersweet. This, I remember well.
“I remember…” July 2018 would be one I would never forget. With a plethora of mixed emotions from, wild excitement, to apprehension, sadness and joy, I allowed myself to feel them all. The Stampede would be our families last, as retirement had been our decision. On the second day in, the news of my father had arrived, that he departed this earthly plane. With interviews of expressing the lifespan of holding the title of a Chuckwagon wife, to voicing the escalated emotions of parting ways with our equine companions, and closing that big ol barn door one last time, of the life that molded me into who I was, this I remember well.
“The Perfect Christmas Card Photo.”
“I remember…” one of the last Christmas gatherings we had together as a family. I was that Christmas card creator that loved to hand write that special family letter, insert that most current photo, excited to mail to loved ones abroad, each and every year. We came together to attempt to capture that one special photo, with all eyes opened and everyone looking towards that Nikon camera lens. Well, that didn’t happen. What we captured, was the most PERFECT Christmas Card photo ever! To my regret, I failed to get that card written that particular year and the photo remains within my archives of plentiful family fond memories. This, I remember well.
“I remember…” the vibrant autumn leaves, with the crisp rustle beneath our feet, as my grandchildren and I, danced and played among the golden fiery hues of leaves swirling all around us. Only to lie down and gaze up into the big bright beautiful blue sky. This, I remember well.
“I remember…” the fragrant lilac blossoms with their delicate clusters of small, tubular flowers, displaying hues of pale lavender, when my sweet young grandboys picked the branches so carefully and presented them to me. The mounting excitement within each of them, of giving a gift so beautiful in nature, warmed my heart to its fullest. This, I remember well.
“Bathing in the enchanting glow of moonlight, a night filled with celestial whispers, silver dreams, and I remembers.”
“I remember…” this crisp winter night so well. With the easterly radiant moonlit night sky, casting a serene glow that turned the daylight into darkness, painting a canvas of silver brilliance. I stood so very still for quite some time, bathing in the enchanting glow of the moonlight, with the twinkling stars above embracing the tranquility of quietude. This night was filled with celestial whispers and silver dreams. Wondering and pondering, what my next chapter in life will be like. This, I remember well.
Won’t you take time to remember?
From Home on the Ranch
Sue
P.S. “Remember the whispers of yesterday, the laughter etched in time, and the silent promises of moments that still echo within the heart.”
Thank you for reading and do feel free to share I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings and photography, please click on the coffee cup link, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.
