Cigar: Still the King

I visited Cigar several times during Rolex. The Horse Park was abuzz from dawn to dusk every day with international competitors, and The King watched from his castle atop the hill. He is a benevolent ruler, and most of the time he dines on fine grasses. But if something is out of place or if some horse dares to come too close to his kingdom, he alerts. He marches to the intruder. His mane flutters. His ears fly forward. His chiseled head swivels. And his subjects ooh and ahh. Shutters click. Then The King goes back to his meal.

I left Cigar’s palace today and began my tour of Kentucky farms. Never in my life have I seen such beauty. The rolling hills, the warm breezes, the iron gates, the stately barns. If you see me driving, just pass my car, because I’m a rubbernecking fool when I see these farms.

I watched a mare foal today. She’s a stout filly, well-bred and full of promise. In light of the tragic loss of Kingpin and the reminder of how fragile these creatures are in spite of the best possible care, life springs forth in the Bluegrass.