The first Kentucky Derby I remember watching was in 1969, the year Majestic Prince won. I went to my friend, Ann Miller’s house to watch the race on television. I was hooked. From then on, all we wanted was a Triple Crown winner. We were thwarted that year, and for three years afterwards. Ann and I longed to see a horse win the elusive Triple Crown, which, by 1973 had not been won for 25 years. Citation had achieved the feat in 1948. It had been a long wait. Twenty five years seemed an impossible stretch at 18 years of age.
In 1972, thanks to The Chronicle of The Horse, which, in those days ran a weekly horse racing column, a two year old named Secretariat came to my notice. I bet a friend $5 (a large sum, in those days – 10 hours of babysitting wages) that he would be the one to win the Triple Crown in 1973. As he began to race, my confidence grew.
And so, fifty years ago, Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby in a record time that remains still the fastest trip around the mile and a quarter at Churchill Downs on the first Saturday in May. Spoiler alert – he went on to win the Triple Crown. 1973 was the year I went off to nursing school in Bristol, a miserable time in my life. On the wall of my room in the nurses’ home I taped the cover of Time magazine featuring Secretariat, and the back cover of The Chronicle with pictures of the Triple Crown winners. I saved those relics, and yesterday, before the Derby, I pulled them out after 50 years, an impossibly short gap, at 68 years of age…
This year, Mage won, a horse none of us had expected to be in contention. The race was a good one, but the week was marred by 7 fatalities at Churchill Downs. Horse racing is falling into disfavor, which makes me very sad. I have lived long enough to see Secretariat win the Derby, and to witness the decline of The Sport of Kings, on the very weekend a new King (older than I am) was crowned across the pond.
Here, though, it was a pleasant day, with a visit from our dear friend, Carter, who happened to be out this way. We laughed a lot.
Today, suddenly, it is summer. Ninety degree temperatures, fans installed in the barn for the horses, and still, no rain.
The Spring Beauties are at the end of their season in the woods, while strawberries are beginning their delicious spell here.
Birds appreciate water more than food on a day like today. Carter’s visit yesterday also brought our first oriole view of the year. A good omen, we hope!
It was our first really hot day. We changed the bed to summer covers. Harry and Weedy were glad of air conditioning.
No air conditioning in the shed, but at dinner time the shed cats don’t care.
A new turtle crossed my path yesterday. It has a uniquely reddish head, and a distinctive notch at the front of its carapace. In honor of Derby Day, it was racing along.
Columbines are abundant this year, and strangely delicate for such hardy plants that survive with no assistance.
Be safe, be well, be surrounded by beauty. God save the King! Slava Ukraini! Peace.
The Voice of Springtime. What a charming romp through memories, tanager and oriole and other forms of life, including Harry and dog (of course), and a clean dove. Enjoyed your post, Anne.
Thanks, Gerry! Enjoyed your poetry 🤣
Horse racing the most romantic of all sports insures high hopes, ecstasy, and sometimes horrors. If I had looked at Mage more carefully, his excellent trainer no stranger to KY, Bodexpress was one of his, and his Hall of Famer jockey, well, hindsight. He’ll be known as the “Little horse with a big heart.” I hope he goes on to the Preakness. Still loving the tanager, and all, thanks Anne!
I am so jealous of your oriole, last year I had 3 pairs, and not a one this year. Stlii waiting and wishing! Thanks for sharing your words❤️
Just a couple of hours ago I was at a doctor’s appointment near Saratoga Springs. On the wall, a photograph of Secretariat. I remember that year and I remember the horse. One of our frequent passengers at BA was Felix Francis, son of Dick. I also met the senior Francis who was very charming. Felix always supplied me with the latest book.
90 degrees is too much. We are warmer too, but not there, yet. Your flowering trees are lovely.
Harry is a big Francis fan! Harry and I connected steeplechasing, which is another story…