This is the windiest spring since my move to Motovun twelve years ago. Around my house, the wind is the strongest from about eleven in the morning till around six in the afternoon. Between three and five, it often whistles and howls. And it has been blowing at full tilt ever since I returned from Zagreb this spring, which was nearly a month ago. Although I have had my fill of the never-ending wind, I am not complaining. I am only noting my impressions of the ever-changing weather for future reference. When it comes to the weather, this is the only thing I can do, anyway. It is utterly useless, just like complaining, but it still gives me a feeling that I am on top of things. On top of the mindboggling weather, that is.