01/10/2026
11026. So true! Karamel Nuggets who I raised from the hopper, only both mommy and daddy and now checkers mom’s horse I am inherited. And of course, all the horses three times and in the barn at Golden Fleece Farm xoxo
There are things about horses
that non-horse people just don’t understand.
Not because they don’t care—
but because some things can only be learned
by standing in a barn long enough
to let them change you.
They don’t understand
that horses aren’t just animals we own.
They’re relationships we build.
Slowly.
Intentionally.
With patience, trust, and time.
They don’t understand
that a horse reads your energy
before you ever say a word.
That they know when you’re anxious,
overwhelmed,
or carrying something heavy—
and they respond to that,
not the version of yourself
you try to present.
They don’t understand
why a bad day feels lighter
after time in the barn,
or why brushing a mane
can calm a mind that won’t slow down.
They don’t understand
that sometimes the barn
isn’t about riding at all—
it’s about survival,
healing,
and breathing again.
They don’t understand
why we spend so much time, money, and energy
on something that gives us nothing tangible in return.
But they don’t see the confidence built slowly,
the patience learned quietly,
the strength formed without applause.
They don’t understand
that a horse becomes part of your identity.
That once you’ve loved one,
your life is forever shaped by it.
That your definition of trust,
leadership,
and love
changes.
They don’t understand
why losing a horse hurts the way it does.
Why it feels like losing a piece of yourself.
Why grief lingers quietly
long after others think you should be “okay.”
They don’t understand
that a heart horse isn’t replaceable—
because they weren’t just a horse.
They were a season.
A safe place.
A teacher.
They don’t understand
why we choose early mornings,
muddy boots,
and tired bodies.
Why we rearrange our lives
around feed times and care.
Why we show up
even when it would be easier not to.
What they don’t understand
is that horses don’t ask us
to be perfect.
They ask us to be present.
And in a world that constantly demands more,
that presence becomes priceless.
You can explain it,
but it’s never quite enough.
Because the bond between a horse and a human
isn’t logical.
It’s felt.
And the truth is—
horse people don’t need to be understood
by everyone.
We just need our horses.
Are you a horse person who feels this?
