However, I always thought of arches in their perfect architecural form, with carefully crafted springers (the first pieces that sit on the bases), voussoirs (the individual elements that rise toward the top), and keystone (which "cements," wither or without cement, the structure firmly into place). Then one day, while hiking in rural Greece, I came upon a field, which the farmer had surrounded with a short fence made of piled stones. At one point a small stream traversed the property, and in order not to impede the flow of precious water, the farmer had made an opening in the fence by arranging stones of roughly voussoir shape to form a genuine and highly practical arch. I remember finding this amazingly beautiful, despite its coarseness. Contrary to the intuitive concept of a post-and-lintel portal, which would easily have sufficed in this circumstance, the farmer had absorbed the lessons of the great works of his native land and had imitated them and incorporated them in a natural and wonderful way.