October 20 had arrived. Cold Dew had passed, and Frost's Descent was approaching.
Where did summer racing end, and autumn racing begin? In recent years, I often found myself wondering.
Global warming had brought abnormal heat and long summers.
According to older horse owners, anyone who casually headed out in short sleeves on the opening weekend of autumn racing might once have felt chilly before the gates even opened.
Yet on the day the final question of the fillies' classics would be answered, Honshu felt almost as hot as it had on my last visit.
"Because the Summer Sprint Series and Summer Mile Series hold their final races on the opening weekend of autumn Racehorse racing, Nakayama's autumn opening weekend is still summer Racehorse racing."
A few days earlier, I had heard old Mr. Nishiyama, who had retired from horse ownership, make much the same argument.
On the other hand, if temperature alone defined summer and autumn racing, even the Shuka Sho and Kikuka Sho might soon count as summer races. Just as I thought that, a cool breeze that felt like autumn flowed through the open door of the rental car.
With it came a piano introduction full of nostalgia, fond memories—or perhaps loneliness.
"Outside the window of that familiar shop I used to visit, rows of horse chestnut trees stood
One cup of coffee lasted the day as we blindly chased an unseen tomorrow. Everyone had once placed their hopes against the searing winds of those turbulent times"
Rather than familiar, Aunt Tokiko's singing felt comforting. Her voice was calm and expansive yet full of force, growing deeper and richer as the song went on.
We talked of old times now and then. What counted as "old times" differed from person to person.
Ten years ago, twenty, or