Showtime Stables

08/11/2025

What a privilege it is…

…to watch the first few white hairs appear around a horse’s eyes, the face you’ve known for years. Maybe since they were a gangly youngster, or perhaps only in more recent seasons. Either way, you’ve become their constant.

One day, as you run your hand up along their face and brush aside their forelock, you notice something different. A few grey hairs, soft yet stubborn, threaded through the colour you’ve always known. Just a smattering, almost as if they were dabbed on with a brush when your back was turned.
And they stop you in your tracks.
Because there it is.

The first, quiet whisper of time.

There’s a particular kind of privilege in caring for an older horse. Not just the honour of fulfilling their everyday needs. But the deeper, quieter privilege… being the one who will walk beside them as they soften with age. The one whose hands they will come to rely on completely. The one who will know them for the rest of their life.

They won’t be passed along. They won’t be asked to start over with someone new. They’ll only ever know your care, your routine, your way of doing things. Until the day they take their last breath. That’s something profound.

Not everyone gets to be the person who holds space for a horse’s entire arc. You see the wonder of youth, the steadiness of middle age, and the gentleness that so often comes with time. Not everyone chooses it. Not everyone can. But for those of us who do…

…what a privilege it is.

To know them, not just when they were strong and sound and “useful,” but when they slow down and ask for a little more patience. A little more help. A little more softness. To be their person, not just for the ride, but also for the parts of the journey where you walk side by side, even for the times you carry the most weight for them instead.

Because even as their bodies change, their hearts don’t. The bond grows stronger and deeper and even more familiar.

What a privilege it is.

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©️Lauren Johnson Graveney Equine: Horse Track System - dedicated to Jasper who has graced us with the first few grey hairs this year. With us forever 💚

08/08/2025

When I was little, all I wanted was a pony. Barbies? Nope! A Tamagotchi? Nah. Just a pony, please and thank you. My dad wasn’t thrilled. Mostly because he knew exactly what that meant: dirt, drama, and dollar signs.
But he caved. And let me tell you… when I turned 18 and moved out, he told everyone that pony was the best parental decision they ever made.
Why?
Because I was:
🐴 Too busy riding horses to chase boys
💸 Too broke from farrier bills to buy booze
🧽 Too exhausted from mucking stalls to rebel
Just the magic, the memories, and the sweet sound of “I can’t. I have to be at the barn.”
So dads, listen up:
Buy the pony. Lease the pony. Borrow the pony.
Whatever it takes…get the girl a horse. You won’t just raise a daughter. You’ll raise a broke, barn-smelling, sparkle-eyed legend who’d rather clean hooves than cause trouble.

You’re welcome.

08/07/2025

08/04/2025

08/03/2025

To the horse who’s lived through every version of me

“You stood by me before I knew who I was.
Before I had the timing, the feel, the understanding. Before I knew how to speak to you in a way that made sense to you, and long before I knew how to listen.

You felt every phase of me.
The eager beginner.
The perfectionist.
The one who tried too hard,
and the one who didn’t try hard enough.

You learned to interpret what I meant when I didn’t say it clearly. You held space for my missteps, and gave me the chance to rewrite the story each time I came back with more clarity, more kindness and more understanding.

You didn’t walk away when I was still learning how to show up.
You didn’t shut down or told me off
when I was still figuring out how to open up and find better ways. You offered grace when I hadn’t earned it.

You met me in the mess.
And you grew with me, anyway.

I softened and listened deeper, because of you. You taught me that softness isn’t a flaw. That a real reciprocal partnership doesn’t come from control, but from trust, built slowly, in the quiet moments when neither of us had anything to prove. And all the other lessons you tucked gently into the spaces between heartbeats, the ones I’m still uncovering, even now.

Some of these lessons didn’t finish teaching when the moment ended, they unfold over time, revealing more each time I return to them with new eyes.

You shaped the best parts of me and I will carry that gift for the rest of my life.

To the horse who walked beside me through every version of who I was, thank you. You didn’t just change my horsemanship skills,

You changed me”

-Julia Williamson, The Horse Center, 2025