In Gratitude: An EC Blog by Paige Cerulli

By Paige Cerulli:

I grew up horse crazy in a family that couldn’t afford horses. Or, for years, riding lessons. So, I clung to horses in the ways that I could, taking out armfuls of horse books from the library and studying State Line Tack catalogs – those thick, glossy volumes gave me a look into a world that wasn’t yet mine.

I’ll always remember the thrill of ordering my first dandy brush and curry comb from Jeffers, and the rite of passage of buying my first velvet-covered helmet from the local tack shop.

Things are different now. I bought my first barn nearly a decade ago, and I own four horses that I’m immensely proud of. This life is the result of a tremendous amount of hard work – it’s not easy to afford horses as a freelance writer – but I often find myself wishing for more acreage, a larger barn, the ability to buy a brand-new saddle.

The other evening, when I turned out the light after night check, the stalls glowed slightly, thanks to the full moon’s reflection off the snow covering the ground. I suddenly remembered being a teenager, when I’d close up the barn after feeding (I did so in exchange for riding time), and would listen to the horses eat while waiting for my parents to pick me up. That 14-year-old girl would be elated and stunned to learn that I not only have multiple horses, but a barn of my own.

It’s easy to get swept into the constant desire for more, for better. The fancier barn, the more competitive horses, the year-end title you’ve been chasing for a decade. And to some degree, that hunger pushes us. It’s the drive that keeps us moving forward, that keeps us motivated.

But sometimes that hunger makes us forget how far we’ve come and how fortunate we are to live this life. I’ve spent so much time working on improving my barn and adding onto my small herd that appreciating what I’m fortunate enough to have has slipped past me on more than one occasion. In 2026, in between the shows and clinics and time spent working with my horses at home, I’m going to make sure I take time to be grateful more often.

Time with horses is fleeting, and, as we’re all too painfully aware, it can come to an unexpected end in an instant. As winter creeps in and forces life to move at a slower pace, I’m going to take a pause from chasing dreams and take more time to reflect and appreciate what I do have. I’ll make a point of watching them play in the snow, will study the details of the slope of my mare’s shoulder and the mottled stripes on her hind hooves, will remind myself that a decade ago, none of this existed.

And after night check, I’ll turn out the lights and just stand in the doorway for a few minutes, listening to their rhythmic chewing, my Quarter Horse sloshing mouthfuls of hay in her water bucket, the occasional contented sigh. And in that moment, rather than thinking of what could be, I’ll remember to be grateful for what is.