Took an unexpected jaunt to Holy Hill (and it's fascinating history, some of it rather recent) in the midst of the Kettle Moraine. Climbed the 178 steps to the top of the tower after listening to a French nun sing in the chapel. Was blessed by a Carmelite Friar. Drank Holy Water from the Holy Spigot in the Holy Grotto. Was not struck dead.*
The area itself was carved out by ancient glaciers and is now hilly, heavily forested and lovely. Turning into the driveway of the grounds, we turned down out previously cranked Bob Marely and were enveloped in the spell of stillness and serenity the place seems steeped in.
People from around the world visited the stations and chapels adding to the sanctified aura as we hiked. This place has been considered holy since the native tribes that worshiped on its grounds and seems to grant peace to all that enter.
*In fact, left grinning and utterly renewed.