So I wondered when hearing yesterday morning of so many traffic accidents being reported on the local news, if it's just that people don't heed traffic rules adequately and above all, drive too fast altogether, weather conditions aside. Pause for thought.

I do so pride myself at age 79 at my excellent balance and ease of movement. What's that old adage? Pride goeth before a fall? Yup.

Last August I was racing down the stairs from the second floor to the first in our house when something happened unexpectedly and I flew down those steps utterly without control. Landing face first on the marble floor below. Needless to say I ached for quite awhile afterward. My face was a swollen, bruised mess. It took likely a month to get back to normal. Little Jackie had somehow got in the way and was hit on my way down, not a pleasant experience for him, but after a few days of skittishness and feeling a little unwell, he recovered nicely. Took me far longer

So yesterday we were out in the ravine, walking along a flat part of the trail we normally traipse along, not uphill or downhill or choosing to bushwhack anywhere. It was warm and dry out; perfect conditions. And we were chatting and enjoying seeing new greenery popping out everywhere; the green screen of new foliage has been amazingly swift in brightening up the ravine.

Suddenly my booted foot came awry on a tree root. There are tree roots everywhere and we're accustomed to bypassing them. This time, not. I precipitously found myself falling forward. I had in my left hand Jillie's leash, and I guess I thrust my right hand forward as I fell, so it took the brunt of my body hitting the ground very hard, all 115-or-so pounds of me. As I thumped forward the breath was whumped out of me, and I felt overwhelming pain in that right  hand. And then, split seconds later it was my face meeting the ground, particularly my nose. I was wearing sunglasses and they were shoved into my eyespace.

I lay there, utterly without strength, a jangled mess of nerves and hurt. My husband hovered over me, knew that I couldn't yet be lifted until some semblance of strength and stability returned. And when he did lift me he was horrified at the blood running out of my nose. I was, of course covered with forest detritus. As I'd lain there, the two puppies licked my face and leaped onto my back, while my husband tried to keep them off me; I was hardly aware.

He wanted to head directly back for home; we were about a quarter of the distance into our usual walk. I refused, felt well enough to continue, and so we did, after dusting me off. My nose felt sore and so did my hand. When we did get home I used cold water on a washcloth on my face, ran some cold water on my hand. Then I plopped on the sofa and read the newspapers. As the day progressed so did the swelling and the bruising in both hand and face/nose. I cannot use my right hand as I normally do, there's too much swelling and pain. So I wonder how long this inconvenience will last.

There will be, needless to say, intaked breaths at sight of me from people we know. Who might, just possibly, feel that there's more to the situation than appears on the surface. So in a way I feel badly for my husband, because he's going to be the inevitable butt of 'jokes' over wife-beating. Mind, he had quipped it was just as well my breast implants hadn't shattered on impact with the ground. Breast implants, right.