A dog barks and whines at the front door. Should I let her out? A lunchbox sits on the countertop. An apprentice jockey zips his half chaps and heads to the barn. The farm truck sputters to life outside my window. I’m on my second cup of coffee and thousandth text/email/Whatsapp. It’s dark. Pitch-black dark.
I can hear horses in the distance. The night turnouts coming in, the morning turnouts going out. A system. A daily system. I’ll watch a few timber horses work up a hill, catch a couple of hurdle horses cresting another hill in another town Then watch a pair of hurdle prospects navigate a public school back at Shawan Downs, where we were two days ago. Nine runners. Some good. Most fine. One that wakes me up in the dead of night. Life in the horse game. It’s spring in Maryland.
