Looking out of my window at the world of nature I think, as I often do, of rain, of water, and all the ways water had touched me. For me it was the most sacramental of elements: A priest poured water over my infant forehead before my eyes had fully opened to the world, and another priest will sprinkle water on my casket when my eyes are once again closed to the world. But I am in no hurry for that final sprinkling, and would rather enjoy the world between blessings for a while longer. Going into a church, I dip my finger into water and again do so leaving, blessing as I do what took place between holy water. So too in life, and, I like to think, so too in the cathedral of nature.

Louis Masson, The Play of Light