The roses always smell sweeter in Kentucky

Dear Kentucky Derby,

The arrival of May brings many things with it. Tractors are moving and continuing to kick up an endless trail of dust as fields are being prepared for that healthy goodness that is rice. Trees from almond to walnut to pecans have lost their bloom and a canopy of green engulfs the orchards along with the promise of a heavy set that will bring the assurance of a bright harvest. Long hours are put in this time of year for the men and women who call agriculture there profession.  As the 1^st Saturday in May draws near every year I find my mind wondering from the tasks at hand of my given profession as the smell of roses, sights of beautiful women garnered in big hats and the taste of cool mint juleps coming across my lips constantly dance in my head.  Yes it is you Kentucky Derby along with the sport of horse racing that continues to capture my heart like an inebriated Kate Upton with only bikinis in her closet and a cabinet full of good vodka who just happens to have an infatuation for a certain Northern California rice famer. As a card carrying member of the sport of kings and former thoroughbred owner who is currently looking to add to the portfolio I have found that one of life’s greatest pleasures is a Saturday at the track. From the smell of the barns to the walk to the paddocks and the anticipation of the sound of the starting gun going off few things can compete with the excitement of a race. Now as you once again are upon us for the 139^th time to see what 3 year old has the gusto, speed and power to dominate those 10 furlongs or as the standard measurement system likes to call it 1.25 miles in what is so eloquently understated the “ fastest and most exciting two minutes in sports”.  Churchill Downs you are my holy grail of spots to visit and I know someday soon when this writing thing will actually pay me enough to turn the farming gig into an a long line of expensive hobbies that I indulge in I will be front and center at the track in my finest three piece with a beautiful lady by my side sporting an unparalleled example of a southern milliner’s work with winning betting stubs and cocktails in our hands cheering on a pony that hopefully will capture a nations attention and heart. I tip my cap to the owners, trainers, jockeys and most of all the horses this weekend and here’s to cheering on the underdog because a win at 50-1 buys a lot of rounds for me and that ever growing list of friends…..Let that trumpet play.

PS. Happy Friday peeps, the wind has stopped and for you not lucky enough to be farming the weekend is here. Enjoy yourselves, I know I’m going to try and sneak some much needed fun in at the expense of that overrated thing called sleep and remember…..There is a reason why Marco Polo doesn’t own a pool anymore.