It’s been going on for nearly a year now and it’s getting a wee bit maddening.

Today was no different.

So….It’s a crisp, cold morning but the sun is shining and the cloudless sky, now that the sun has fully awakened to the day, is a beautiful blue. I’m out with The Poodle on our morning walk.  It’s far better than yesterday’s dramatic weather that had The Poodle and his sidekick (that would be moi) quaking in our boots, so to speak, as it seemed the roof of the house was about to be blown off.  When the hail and high winds hit…followed by a pounding rain, mid-day became pitch-black night and though The Poodle was shivering with fear I was grateful to have him in my lap as I watched the trees sway violently outside my study window.

What a difference a day makes.

As I walked down the long hill I had to stop every so often to dig tissues out of my pocket and blow my nose.  As if I needed more to contend with, I’m still having coughing fits, enough to make my sides ache.  It’s been like this for a good eight days now and I’m mighty tired of it.  I’m certain The Poodle is just as tired of hearing this hacking cough….

And–wait– here goes another one…..

sigh

Once it’s over I resume walking.  My soul desperately needs a nature fix on this beautiful March morning.  Determined to get in a good five-mile walk, I pick up the pace.  Let’s move.  I’ve got things to do….no lollygagging Mr. Poodle!

When I get all the way to the bottom of the hill I stop near a small pond to allow The Poodle a moment to “admire” the ducks.  I’m momentarily lost in thought as I watch a pair of ducks frolic in the water.

It’s then that a guy on a motorcycle honks and waves at me as he whizzes by.

He has done this nearly every day for about a year.

No. Unfortunately this is NOT my motorcycle guy.

No. Unfortunately this is NOT my motorcycle guy!

Nope (and aw shucks!).  Motorcycle-guy is not movie-star quality.  Near as I can tell, given that he is wearing a helmet, he’s middle-aged and it’s clear that he doesn’t have six-pack abs (no judgement folks).   He’s usually wearing the same thing; long khaki pants, long sleeves, and a neon-yellow vest.

What could be annoying about motorcycle-guy you’re asking?

I haven’t the foggiest clue who he is!  Not a one.  So, either this fellow knows me (and I feel bad that I haven’t a clue to who he is) or he’s a poodle-lover and his honk is solely to admire my boy.

I’ve no silly notions that this fellow is admiring me.  Still, I’d like for him to stop–just for a moment– one morning, and remove his helmet.

How lovely it would be to put a name to this friendly morning honk and wave.