I haven’t owned a horse in more than 40 years. But I never stopped being a horse person.
I got my first horse, Judy, when I was 12 years old after years of dreaming about having one.
Before Judy, horses mostly lived in my imagination. I read every horse book I could find. When I spent summers with my Meemaw in Tennessee, I would walk down to the library and look for anything they had about horses. I drew them constantly. I loved the ponies at the fair and even those little mechanical ponies outside the grocery store that you put a quarter in.
I wanted a horse so badly that I would sit on the edge of my bed, rig up makeshift reins, and pretend I was riding.
Then Judy came into my life.
She was an older horse, and I absolutely loved her.
Having Judy opened up an entirely different world for me. I learned about barn life and became part of a community of people who had horses. Eventually I had other horses, learned to jump, went on trail rides, gave beginner riding lessons, and, when I was 18, went to work at a barn.
Some of my most loved memories come from those years.
Cool mornings releasing the horses into the pasture and watching them run after being fed. The hard, sweaty work of cleaning stalls while they were outside. The sour smell of wet bedding, urine, and manure, followed by the wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of fresh pine shavings.
Saddling horses for rental rides. Brushing them afterward. Grooming my own horse and scratching those places she couldn't quite reach.
Helping the farrier on shoeing day.
Long trail rides where my back side was sore and my knees buckled when they hit the ground. A good pain that went away as we walked to remove our tack. And I'd do it all over again. Because that is the thing about horses: once you have loved one, you just know.
Over the years I bought and sold horses as my riding changed. I move up to larger, younger horses. Learned to ride and train the more difficult ones. But there was always the relationship. The understanding. The trust.
When I was 23, my life went in another direction. I sold my horse, and eventually horses stopped being part of my everyday life.
But they never really left me.
More than 40 years later, I can still remember what those mornings felt like. I can remember the barn. The horses. The people. The work. And that wonderful feeling of having a saddled horse standing beside you and knowing the two of you were about to go somewhere together.
Today, horses have found their way back into my life through my artwork and Floored By Art Studio.
I create for horse people because, even after all these years, I still feel like horse people are my people.
Maybe you have a horse standing in your barn right now.
Maybe you're still dreaming about owning your first one.
Or maybe, like me, the horses you loved belong to another time in your life.
I think once you've truly been a horse person, some part of you always is.
I know that's true for me.
— Cheryl