This is just a brief post to showcase Keeneland a little bit. For me, when March rolls around and the first warm days start to flow in, it means only one thing.  The countdown to Keeneland’s spring meet is on.  It means even more now that I am lucky enough to work for Coady Photography.  This year, too, my graduation from college is finally almost at hand, and getting to work in a career, doing what I love, is within reach.  So with spring slowly starting to roll in, it signifies quite a few countdowns.

Keeneland, of course, has its own countdown to a milestone achievement this year: hosting their first Breeders’ Cup ever.  For a track that has seen some of the biggest names in horse racing, human and equine, grace its stage – and even hosted a queen – it is another feather in their cap.

In fact, what brought me to Keeneland on this lovely sunny day was to see the recently-arrived Breeders’ Cup statue on their grounds for the first time ever.  As I climbed the stairs to the path that flanks the paddock and walking ring on either side, the statue was positioned straight ahead, a silent mark of things to come.

 

 

It was exciting to see. I have spent so many wonderful days at Keeneland, and long before I began working for Coady, it felt like a second home to me, always welcoming and inviting.  I have seen so many thrilling moments here as well, and greatly look forward to their first Breeders’ Cup being yet another cascade of them.

 

It seemed fitting, too, as I looked ahead to another Keeneland meet and their first Breeders’ Cup that I noticed this sign for the first time ever, right behind the BC statue.  I’ve been going to Keeneland for over a decade now and never even saw this until now.  Gems still wait to be discovered there, just like at their last meet when I discovered parts of the grounds (or more accurately, buildings and rooftop views) I never knew existed, as part of the course of the photographer workday.

 

 

I just love the artistry and workmanship of the statue.

 

I left after my brief visit on a beautiful day.  See you in April, Keeneland, when it all begins again. Always one of the highlights of my year!

I made my way to Our Mims on the first truly warm day central Kentucky experienced in quite a while.  Two huge snowfalls within three weeks had made the tail end of winter range from unpleasant, to “car-stuck-in-the-snow” inconvenient.  One thing I’ve learned from my years of living in Kentucky is that you can never quite say winter is fully over just because March arrives.  I’ve seen blizzards hit at the Keeneland meet in April, but it almost seemed safe to say we’d seen the last of the huge snowfalls for this winter.

As I drove to Paris, one town over from Lexington for my appointment at Old Mims, I quickly left urban sprawl behind. There are some beautiful historic homes and areas in Lexington, but the whole reason I moved here was due to falling under the spell of the wide open spaces that horses inhabit here; that and the almost cathedral or canopy-like effect of the trees’ branches spread across many of the roads dotted with horse farms.

While working on my degree, I became a very infrequent visitor to area farms.  It was often necessary to have tunnel vision during a semester, to manage a heavy school workload and my job as well.  After the semester was ample time to once again do more fun activities.  So I had not fully realized how much I needed to take a little time to get back in touch with going out and doing those things I enjoy.  That sounds like an obvious statement, but when I started this degree nearly five years ago, I had a completely different mentality than I do now.  This was my third attempt to get a college degree and move up a career ladder, and I kept that laser-like focus through probably well over half of my time at the University of Kentucky.  When I hit burn-out over a year ago, I became less inclined to drop everything in life to work on school.  I still had to spend the majority of my time on it, of course, but I needed a little more life/work balance.

Fast-forward to now.  Though I’d tried to align life and work a little better, I still didn’t feel like I could afford the “luxury” of taking the time required for long drives through the countryside.  I knew I really didn’t have time on a peaceful Sunday at the end of the first week of March, but I took it anyway.  I had wanted to visit Our Mims for so long, and when Jeanne Mirabito, who owns and runs the farm, told me that it would have been Our Mims’ birthday the day of my visit and was another current resident’s birthday, that almost seemed too fortuitous not to go.  The day I finally cleared my calendar to go to her farm was the day the horse this was all in honor of had been foaled? I had to go.

That was an excellent decision. I was doing it for a photo assignment, or otherwise even then I may never have taken the time to go.  But just as with my visit to Old Friends recently, it did me a tremendous amount of good.  The drive alone was soothing: miles of driving past black fences, coralling pastures blanketed with pure white snow.  The contrast in colors and the wide open spaces had a calming effect.  And it was wonderful to get back to basics almost, to doing the things I loved doing when I first moved here.

It got slightly better day by day, but I still had moments of struggling with the sudden loss of my cat.  I was coming to the point where having known him and his sweet nature and cuddly ways was outweighing having lost him.  I had realized a few days ago the futility of wishing he was back to have more of that love.  I’ve spent so much of the past five years, the time I’ve taken for this degree, to push forward, to make progress.  There was no looking back.  To want to go back now, even to have more days with him, was as counterproductive as it was impossible.  That’s not to say I hardened my heart to having to lose him.  I can’t do that.

Realizing you’ve been the recipient of deep, unconditional love makes it harder to have the absence of that love in the here and now.  But oh, how lucky I was to have him give me that gift, and help me be the kind of person who could return that to him in full measure. Animals can teach us so much about love, life, and even death.  I still remember how bold and adventurous Choobie was right before we went to the vet on that final ride.  He was a cat on a mission, to live fully in spite of illness. I knew he still was not feeling very well, but he didn’t let that stop him from exploring his world.  And when he really wasn’t feeling well enough to do much at all, there was a stillness, a calm about him.  I know he was suffering at those times, most likely, and I couldn’t sit there and watch that go on.  But in those moments, he also showed me how to die with grace.  He didn’t, of course, understand he was dying.  But he knew he wasn’t himself, and he did what he had to do to handle that.  He rested for long periods, he ate when he could, and when he needed comfort or felt well enough to snuggle as he usually would, he sought out my company.

I would sit near him in those last days and just read, or sing along to music I put on to try to diminish the stress I was feeling at knowing our time together was growing short, and that he may be suffering more than he’d let on.  Some websites suggested just letting a dying cat know you were near was enough, especially if they didn’t feel like socialization or being touched.  And he did respond to me being near, in his usual endearing ways of rolling on to his back or stretching his legs out in contentment.  His last days were as peaceful and full of love as I could make them, and I have no doubt he knew until the end he was loved.

But I digress.  Going to Our Mims was one more opportunity to find solace in the company of horses. I was going that day primarily to gather photos more than for my own personal agenda, yet it turned out being there did me a world of good.

My visit began in the cemetery, as Jeanne narrated a little about the lives of the horses buried there.  However, just beyond the cemetery, the living residents inhabited one huge pasture and they were the focus at that time.  I hadn’t realized the visit would involve walking right among them, and getting so much one-on-one time.  That was wonderful.

We saw Elmhurst, a Breeders’ Cup Sprint winner, and he is stunning.  Jeanne hopes to take him to Breakfast with the Works at Keeneland’s fall meet, to honor his own Breeders’ Cup triumph at the same time Keeneland hosts the championship series for the first time.

We also saw birthday girl Trail Guide, and wandered around to see a few others.  All the horses were curious – a few followed behind us for a time, and all of them were so well-mannered; that day, at least.  Jeanne showed me little pens in the huge pasture and explained they were for people in case the horses got too fractious.  I loved her approach already.  The horses here got to be horses more than anything else, and it was the people who would get corralled if the horses needed space.

All the horses I saw looked at ease (except one who was dealing with cancer, but even she leaned in for head rubs, mostly from Jeanne, but I couldn’t resist the chance to love on her as well), and they all seemed quite content.  I’ve heard it said horses like to have jobs – and apparently some of the Our Mims residents are ridden or otherwise part of therapy.  But who knows? After the regimented life at racetracks, they may very well have enjoyed the time to just stand in a field and follow their own agenda.

Jeanne told me about one horse that had been part of a group of starved horses, and showed me the photo of her on her phone, pretty much just skin and bones.  Then she pointed her out now, her bay coat gleaming in the sun and her healthy weight a stark lovely contrast to the way she’d been before.

It was being reaffirmed to me that even while the animals people rescue have found a world of good, they quite often reflect that same good back to the people around them.

I hadn’t realized Our Mims also hosts therapy programs involving the horses, for disadvantaged teens and other people, as well.  But it made a tremendous amount of sense. I hadn’t even been on the property twenty minutes and I could feel a sense of well-being coming over me.  I couldn’t deny I had been in need of some type of therapy to cope with loss, and I continued to choose the animal sort.  How incredibly fitting then, that these horses are part of a formal therapy program as well.  The more time that the visit took, and the further we got into the property, the more I gained from being here.  There is just a sense I felt there of all the well-being and contentment the horses reflected.

I thought back to what Michael Blowen said about all he could tell from a horse based on who handled them before he arrived at the farm.  They pick up on what the people around them feel, no doubt.  And here, I could just feel the peace ripple across the farm, through the horses, and to me.  It was a quiet sensation but almost palpable.  We paused to greet a chestnut pony whose head almost reached past my torso.  He was still winter shaggy, and he felt so soft that I buried my hands in the thick hair along his neck and just happened to inhale that sweet horsy scent I’d not thought of in so long, but that I loved.  I could have stayed there just petting him all day, a tactile therapy.

From there, we moved on to the barn, and Jeanne explained how everyone who comes to the farm and participates in its programs leaves something painted on the barn.  It can be a quote, a painting, something that reflects what the time here meant to them… It seemed fitting this was the first quote I saw, on the outside of the barn.

I hadn’t ridden during my time here, but I still felt as if I’d found a respite like this quote indicated was found on horseback.

All the stalls are painted with something that represents the horse who resides there, and when a horse passes, their panels are moved higher up the barn walls.  The result was a colorful ode to all the residents, past and present, and one more way Our Mims is for the horse first and then the people. I loved the concept of making it so horse-centric, and in the process could see how much even the people who come here gain as well.

Jeanne also described with amusement how Elmhurst is a master at shredding blankets, losing halters, and breaking or opening stall door latches.  She said they may just start to keep a tally of how many times he does those things or how long it takes him.  One thing she said then that resonated with me a lot was that when the horses are here they are in retirement.  If they really want to get out they can.  They are just free to be themselves.

A cat was sunbathing in a patch of dirt underneath a stall panel of multicolored, painted squares, and it was then Jeanne began to tell me of a horse named Hana Bride.  She said she is used to getting calls about famous residents she has or had there.  Hana Bride, however, was not famous for any racing exploits, but she still got a call one day from a woman who said she can’t believe Our Mims has Hana Bride.  Jeanne noted that is a failing of the racing world, to not explore what value a horse may have beyond the racetrack.  It seems to me there are some organizations out there that try to do that, but as far as most horse owners, I suppose if they are heavily invested in racing, they may not be that interested in taking the time to find out where else a horse may excel.  I’m not saying they don’t provide for or try to rehome these horses, but a great incentive to find their value in other areas is probably not as important if racing is where their interest lies, and if that’s the sports endeavor they want to fund.

It turns out, Hana Bride had progeny that made her a legend in the dressage world.  If I remember correctly, Jeanne said she had been very close to being slaughtered, and yet she had offspring doing so well in the dressage ring that Hana Bride could have easily been worth $200,000.

As we left the barn, and went back towards the cemetery to conclude my visit, Jeanne began talking about how she found Our Mims and why the mare meant so much to her.  She said she’d seen her race on TV when she was growing up, and the horse just captivated her.  More than that, she said she was going to own her someday.  And wouldn’t you know, fate did end up bringing Jeanne and Our Mims together.  She heard about her being turned out to fend for herself, and was able to care for her in the last years of her life.  I could tell as she spoke how that time she had with Old Mims still lingered with her.  It is just like I thought when my cat died.  He is not with me physically, but the love never dies.  Deep bonds always stay with us.

As Jeanne told me about finding Old Mims, taking care of her, and then how she was buried at Calumet when her time came, to be among generations of her ancestors and on a land that had seen so many great horses born, raised, and live, had me reflecting on the continuity of Thoroughbred breeding.  All the generations and planning that go into each horse’s life is an interesting path through history, from three foundation stallions to the present day, from when horses may be out of mares that only had the names of their owners, yet it produced an alchemy that is the modern breed, that roared through the years and centuries to give us Secretariat… Seattle Slew…. Cigar… Barbaro…. And to give Jeanne Mirabito Our Mims, the horse she dreamed of as a girl.

A reverence came over me when I heard her talk about Our Mims.  It was more than what she said.  The story was straightforward, but between the lines was all that she had meant to Jeanne and how blessed she felt to get to bring the mare into into her life. She told me Our Mims had died in late 2003, and I thought that I wish I could have met her.  I had been living in Lexington for most of that year, and it would have been possible but she wasn’t on my radar at the time, even as I had gone to every horse farm in the area that allowed visitors.  In a sense, it was enough to hear her story, to know what she had meant.  She was even why we were standing here, on what would have been the champion mare’s forty-first birthday, on this farm that bore her name.

That is why I know, besides telling me about finding her and caring for her, that Our Mims lingers with Jeanne to this day.  I felt she would have understood my grief for Choobie, too, had I told her. Animals give so much unconditionally.  Losing that unconditional love cuts deep, but having had it at all can move us forward to help other animals know that same love.  It was moving that she had launched Our Mims in the beloved mare’s name to help other horses in similar situations.  I had a similar thought to wanting to send that same positive energy out into the world in Choobie’s memory too, and that came to me as Jeanne said she had vowed she wouldn’t let Our Mims’ name be forgotten.  I don’t expect Choobie (or Alix, to give him his more “dignified” given name, though it’s not the one he responded to or was called often), to have his name known widely, but I still want to make a difference to keep the effect of the difference he made in my life rippling through this world, too.

And because Our Mims’ horses helped me start to feel more whole again, and because Old Friends’ horses also helped me find solace, they will be two of the first recipients of donations in Choobie’s name.  I like too that they are organizations that rescue animals, since Choobie also came from a rescue situation when I got him as a kitten at the animal shelter.  We think we are rescuing these animals, and we are, but then they go on to do so much for us, on the most fundamental level.

As we came back to the cemetery again, and the story of Our Mims came to a conclusion, Jeanne started speaking of what happens to the horses here when their time comes.  They are here for the rest of their days when they arrive, and when they go, they are buried whole with their heads facing east, towards new beginnings.  And in the end, that’s all death is… just transition from one form to another.  We do get sad about it, but it is a new beginning.  Sometimes it is a needed new beginning, if the animal is suffering, and the final, most loving thing we can do for them.

Jeanne also said that each horse is buried with a bucket of favorite treats under their chins.  It was such a loving, reverent burial.  I still get a little emotional now and then, and it did bring tears to my eyes.  Doing what we can for the animals in our care, with love, compassion, and ultimately a dignified death and a respectful and meaningful burial is what they all are worthy of, for all the ways they enrich our lives.  The rituals are for us almost more than them, but there is still a lot to be said for a lovingly planned final ceremony to honor their lives.

So I left Our Mims feeling much better for having gone through its gates and having met Jeanne and some of the horses in her care.  I imagine they feel the same way when they arrive and realize what a good place they have to live now.

A few more scenes from Our Mims and the painted areas of the barn

March was still a brand-new month as I drove to the fenced-in parking lot of Old Friends.  The forecast called for rain but also warmer temperatures, a welcome change from a record-setting snow fall and bone-chilling cold of the past two weeks.  The rain was right on cue, but the warmer temperatures were lagging behind.  No matter.  I was at one of my favorite horse farms, and ready to begin my visit.  I was the only visitor understandably, but what I did not expect was for Michael Blowen himself to conduct the tour around the farm and the visits to its residents.  I felt awed, really, just realizing that he would guide this tour.  I just have such an immense respect for the vision he had to launch Old Friends, and for all he does for its retirees and for continuing to reach out to bring more horses to the farm, to live out their days in a cornucopia of carrots, visits, and volunteer attention, and most of all the care and compassion of Michael Blowen.

We began with a visit to Sarava, followed by Silver Charm and Game on Dude.  I had specifically wanted to see Silver Charm the most.  It would be my first visit with him where I could actually have the chance to be hands-on with him for the first time. I’d seen him at Three Chimneys prior to exportation to Japan, and been at Old Friends the day in December he was publicly welcomed to his new home, but I wanted to touch him and feed him carrots and really get to know him in the way you can only by being able to get up close and personal.

Besides how amazing their roster of horses is, and all their accomplishments, it is this chance to really get acquainted with them that I love the most.  A lot of breeding farms in the area tend to let you get up close to a retired race horse you followed and appreciated, even if just for a brief photo with the horse, but very few let you linger over fence lines, and have time to develop an acquaintance.  It is wonderful to get to love on the horses at Old Friends, if they are the type who appreciate that, and to feed them carrots.  They seem to love those carrots more than words can say.

After a brief stop to feed Sarava carrots, we went up to Game On Dude’s paddock.  Blowen said he’s one of the sweetest horses they’ve had at Old Friends.  I hadn’t really gotten to know Game on Dude that well yet, either.  As with Silver Charm, I had only seen him twice prior to this day’s visit.

 – Game On Dude; it was a bit challenging to get a clear photo of him in the rain but I think this captured his kind eye.

He really is a gentle soul, and seemed so well-mannered.  Just like that, a horse can endear themselves to you. I had been aware of Game On Dude’s race career and accomplishments, as I would have been with any headline-grabbing runner, but he’d not really been one I followed while he ran.

Just proves my point about what the difference getting the chance to know them, or at least get acquainted, makes. I mostly hung back and let Michael feed them carrots on this visit, but just seeing Game On Dude’s gentle nature boosted my soul.

I had been a bit captivated by Game On Dude, so much that I didn’t realize Silver Charm was in the paddock adjoining his.  Silver Charm was in a bit of a different mold from Game On Dude. Blowen had told me before we went up to him that he didn’t really like having his head touched.  I remembered that from one of my classes about horses, how to stallions (or I suppose, even colts), that is a sign of dominance and one they are not likely to tolerate or allow.  It was definitely that way with Silver Charm.  I wanted to pat him, to bridge the gap of all the years he’d been in Japan and the time that I’d not been able to get to touch him, but he just didn’t go for it, moving his head away. So I respected that and just watched him.  He has so much presence, and there was a bit of awe at being face-to-face with this horse I did follow throughout all of his racing days, from the Derby to the Preakness to the Dubai World Cup.

In fact, Blowen told me a story about Silver Charm in the Dubai World Cup I’d never heard before.  He said shortly before the race, Silver Charm was just laying down in his stall, and Baffert told his staff that they should be ready to get out of there quickly after the race, because Silver Charm just gave every impression he didn’t have a good race in him that day.  Of course, that turned out to be far from the truth.  Baffert and all of Silver Charm’s connections had every reason to linger after the race, in the glow of Dubai World Cup glory.  Silver Charm was tough, that’s for sure. I was so impressed that he not only won the Derby and Preakness at 3 (and nearly got the Belmont too), but that he also traveled all the way to Dubai and took their biggest race against competitors from around the world at the age of 4.

Blowen also said how smart Silver Charm is, and that he doesn’t miss anything, from being at his gate waiting when it’s time to be taken in to when the mares at a farm across the street are turned out.  To see him back in Kentucky and looking so well is wonderful, and I look forward to more visits especially as the weather gets better.  Perhaps he will even come to accept pats on the neck with time. Either way, I was just glad of the chance to visit.

We stopped to see a few other residents, and while I enjoyed the time to see them all, the next horse we saw that was especially notable to me was Yankee Fortune.  He was noteworthy for the same reason Game On Dude was, for being another kind soul.

I don’t remember much of what was said about his story, just that he was a recent arrival to the farm.  What captivated me was that he did let me pet him and welcomed it, and in his eyes I saw almost a benevolence.  It did me a lot of good to have that one-on-one moment of communion with this light grey horse.  I needed that; I really did.  In fact, given his parallels to Game On Dude, when he gets out of quarantine in a few days, Blowen will try pairing him up with Game On Dude as a pasture buddy.

My visit to Old Friends came just a few days after Blowen and all the farm volunteers had bid goodbye to Creator, the fiery majestic stallion who had ruled over his pasture for so long in retirement there.  Blowen said Creator and Ogygian were similar in that  you could never tell them to do anything, but had to ask and they’d be perfectly willing to comply.  I had always loved seeing Creator on my visits. I knew I couldn’t get too close to him, but he had so much presence that every time I came to Old Friends I wanted to see him.  I can only imagine, after all the years he resided at the farm and seeing how his personality was so captivating, what a void that had to leave.

We went near his pasture, empty and with the gate open, with a wreath of flowers affixed to it in tribute.  There is something poignant about the space where a horse used to reside, or I suppose any animal that we loved, suddenly being empty of their presence. I know full well Blowen and the staff have a fond spot for all the horses that come through the gates at Old Friends, and also realize losses will come frequently, since most of their residents are in their senior years.

But I imagine the loss of a horse with such a strong and charismatic presence as Creator, one that almost loomed larger than life, would be even harder to suddenly find missing.

I could fully empathize, because one reason I had come to Old Friends that day was as a boost for my own aching heart. Horses just have this way of doing my soul a lot of good. If I’m already having a good day, they lift me up that much more. If I’m a little burned out on something, and have a chance to be around them, I find myself recharged with just a little time in their presence.

I knew how they must feel with Creator being gone, even if my acquaintances with him had been more fleeting than theirs.  I knew because it had only been a week since I had to say goodbye to the cat I’d had since he was a kitten, to the nearly ten years we shared together.  And my cat had a larger-than-life personality too.  He was bold, clever, ruled the house (and me, a little), and he and I had a deep bond that words can’t fully describe, and he was the sweetest cat I’ve ever known.  He was diagnosed with advanced liver cancer, a disease he hid that he was suffering from (in the way cats will) until he just couldn’t hide the suffering anymore.  The diagnosis and its terminal status left me reeling.  The fact that it was already terminal and that he was suffering and not completely himself meant less than a week later, I spent one good last day with him full of love and things he loved to do, before he was eased of his suffering in my arms.  This is my racing blog, and I attempt to maintain a professional tone, so I haven’t yet spoken of my cats on here or anything as personal as this.  But this is also snapshots in time of my life, and losing him and not having a lot of time left from the time of his diagnosis was a blow.  It stressed me more to know he was suffering than to say goodbye did, especially knowing I couldn’t really help him, beyond buying him a temporary reprieve from the inevitable with medication.

I mention all this because it fully reaches me how it must have felt to lose Creator. From what I saw myself and from written tributes, he had that same larger-than-life personality as my cat had.  And they do have other horses, of course, but none of them fill that void because none of them are quite who Creator was.  If they feel like me, when such a life force leaves, there’s a big hole that can only be filled gradually and by time. It does really make you even more aware how much vitality that life brought to the world and your life.

I know Creator had a name that was well-known in the racing world, and that he became known to even more people through Old Friends.  My cat was known to only a smattering of people, but in both these cases, their lives were so meaningful because of the way they touched others’ lives while they they were here.  And that is why my heart goes out even more to Blowen and everyone who loved Creator, and why I appreciate even more the work they do.  Creator needed a home, and so many of these horses would fall through the cracks if not for Old Friends.  But then, instead of that happening, they fall into almost a sort of equine nirvana, with full retirement and surrounded by love, respect and compassion, and with frequent visitors and carrot treats.

My cat too came from a rescue situation, from homelessness in the animal shelter to being sheltered and surrounded by love every day of his life after that, until the time it ended.  Because then, too, sometimes the most loving thing we can do for the animals that we’re entrusted to care for, is give them a peaceful dignified relief from their suffering.  It was what Creator needed that day, as much as it must have hurt to let him go, and it was what my cat needed nearly a week before Creator’s passing.  It hurts that he’s no longer here with me, but it also brings peace that he is not suffering.  I do miss his presence, but I know that will lessen with time.  Like with all the horses Old Friends has seen come and go, what matters is that they were given loving homes and good lives, and fully knew they were loved and cared for.  That is why Old Friends means so much to me personally, as much of an animal lover as I am, and it is why I support them financially whenever I can.  Their mission is just so close to my heart, and every visit there and hearing the stories of the horses that needed rescued, and seeing with my own eyes what a great place they’re in always lifts me up.

And too, I can see why having all these horses practically in his back yard, and being able to see them every day, keeps Blowen going.  It is his dream manifested in every kind eye, every horse that has a guaranteed retirement, every eager mouth reaching for carrots, and every visitor that leaves inspired by time in these horses’ presences.

He told me he plans to expand his farm to the stop sign in one direction, which was nearly as far as the eye can see, and why not? The breadth of Blowen’s dream is deep and selfless.  Let it spread to eternity,  to the lives of all these horses and those yet to retire and to the people who visit too.  Let them walk away as inspired by his dreams, the horses he introduced and the flow of energy they emit.

We walked into a barn where they were building a hospital stall, to continue to provide top-notch care on site for the equine residents, and during the course of my visit it became evident how much Blowen’s compassion and kindness for these horses extends to people too.  He gave me a glass that had been especially made to honor Silver Charm, and even gave me an Old Friends magazine before I left.  I was so grateful for those gifts, on top of getting the personal tour and hearing all his stories about the retirees we visited.  Like he said, there are many good stories in racing too, but they don’t get told or heard as often as the more negative ones, because a lot of people in racing are too humble to tell them.  That too is why this farm is a wonderful asset to the racing world, even as these horses’ racing days are over.  Blowen does tell those good stories to anyone who visits.  It was great to hear of all the people, whether they are the horses’ former connections or just people who loved the horses for one reason or another, that continuously donate to their care or have set up funds for some of the horses, and the former connections that will come and visit the horses they either trained, owned, or rode.

It’s been said from time to time, when explaining why a farm like this is necessary, that racehorses don’t have retirement plans, but for those fortunate few, that is no longer true once they find their way to Old Friends.  At that point, the deep roots of Blowen’s dream, the “to-the-stop-sign/as far as the eye can see” expansion, ripples through their lives, with all the loving care and carrots they could want.

I walked away from my visit, once more renewed in spirit.  Old Friends is a treasure, not just for its horses, but for the people who walk through the gates too.  If you’ve ever had the love of horses take root until it’s like another vital part of you,  you know exactly why.