It’s been quite a summer here in northern Colorado. We’ve had enough rain to keep the pastures greener than I’ve ever seen. It’s the middle of August and there is still lush, emerald green grass.

The horses are happy campers.

Except for a few.


Mama and her son Brio were sent to a paddock for the summer because the rich grass caused Brio to founder. It’s been a problem for several of the pasture horses.


When we make our trek out to feed the Golden Girls, who by the way are doing just fine with the lush grass, we must drive past Mama and Brio.

Oftentimes they will stand in the corner watching us with mournful expressions. “We’re here,” they seem to say. “Remember us? We still like treats.”


For some reason—notably my wacky way of thinking—when we see these two characters, I hear strains of “In the Jailhouse Now,” as performed in the movie, Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

Sometimes I even sing a little of it, though Mama and Brio don’t find it the least bit entertaining.

I think my husband sides with them too.


And yes, in case you hadn’t already figured it out, we usually stop by the “Big House” to give our friends a hay cube or two.

It’s how we roll!