I grew up in a time when it would never have occurred to anyone to tell me there was anything I couldn't do.
I went to the springs while the sun was still up, and sitting on a rocky outcrop above the cave mouth I watched the light grow reddish across the misty pools, and listened to the troubled voice of the water. After a while I moved farther up the hill, where I could hear birds singing near and far in the silence of the trees. The presence of the trees was very strong. . . The big oaks stood so many, so massive in their other life, in their deep, rooted silence: the awe of them came on me, the religion.