So after I got done hiking the lake trail, (see post below first), I decided to climb the hill to see a chapel that was built on top in 1857.
(Dead center is the hill- from the other side of the lake. the chapel is on the tippy top.)
In typical Molly Bee Fashion, I took the steepest trail, which in retrospect may not have actually been a trail, since coming back down afterward, I was on some stellar ones that had steps, gravel and paving. My path was one that was more like a muddy rut just big enough to put one foot in front of the other and meandered through the pucker brush and brambles.
Those of you who know me know that it is physically impossible for me to accomplish ANY task or activity without taking a divot out of myself somewhere. Hence the picture below.
I wasn't 20 feet into the woods when I met a broken branch up close and personal-like. BANG! Right in the chin. This is routine and didn't hurt all that much so I just brushed off the bark shrapnel and kept going. Also, those of you who know me, know that I am built for comfort, not for speed...and not, apparently, for steep inclines. By the time I reached the top of the hill, I was sucking wind like I had just climbed Mt. Everest. The sweatshirt that has been such a good idea when I got to the park two hours earlier, was now a pressure cooker in the warming, humid air so I was sweating profusely. But I made it! I got to the wee chapel!
There was a family there already as I crested the hill and the Mom gasped...'Oh my G*D! Are you alright?!?!?!?' I looked behind me to see who she was talking to...hmmm, no one there. They were still all gaping so I say, 'Me? Yeah, well, it's just quite a hike is all.' In reality, I'm kind of a little bitter actually. It WAS quite a hike and how dare they stare at and comment on my disheveled appearance?!
Then the Mom says, 'You're covered in blood!' Seems my little chin scrape hadn't bothered to clot and couldn't hold up to the pressure of my racing heart as I climbed the hill. There was blood all down my chin, neck and sweatshirt and I hadn't even noticed!
Now see, this is one of those times that two different parties experience the same event in vastly different ways. So what I saw when I arrived was Mom, Dad, two small boys, and a dog, in front of the charming, tiny, chapel, Our Lady of the Oaks, in the beautiful woods on a gorgeous, spring day. What THEY witnessed when I arrived was a mad, wild-haired, blood-covered woman stumbling out of the bushes into the clearing, huffing, puffing, and looking like she had somehow barely managed to survive a chainsaw massacre or Zombie apocalypse.
I assured them I was OK, though Mom looked less than convinced. I think if she had had her way, I would have been Med-Flighted off the hill to the nearest Emergency Room. And I'm pretty sure she's already gotten her sons in for therapy first thing this morning to help them un-see what they saw. But they finally, FINALLY, left me there alone so I could go inside.