The thistle's grown aboon the rose. Or so they tell me.

When we were boarding in Ferndale, I had the opportunity to turn Juno out into a large pasture. (That was before the pasture was turned into a motocross track. Let us not discuss it.) I always liked to stand and watch her after I'd turned her loose, because Juno isn't exactly what you'd call a high-energy animal. In fact, it would be fair to say that she feels running is only appropriate a couple times a year. But put her out in that field, with a trio of trouble-making geldings all the way at the other end and her more excitable friends getting all riled up with vicarious turnout joy, and that mare could move.

( In this post: Juno displays both athletic and culinary prowess! )