I am sitting on the terrace of my house and gazing at the Mirna valley below. The day is perfect. There is not a cloud in the sky and it is quite warm. Bells from two churches are tolling in the distance. A rooster can be heard for time to time from a garden close by. On the first day of this very year, all this strikes me as fitting.

Addendum (January 21, 2003)

Three weeks hence and very far from that enchanted perch, I am watching on my computer screen the pictures of the valley taken with my digital camera on the first of the year. There are five shots showing the view from my terrace from left to right—that is, from south to north. The entire house faces west. To the south, I can see the road to Kaldir, Karojba, and Pazin. Southeast is Kaldir, which can be seen on its hill, but Karojba is behind another one, while Pazin is some distance away. Southwest, Brkač and Bataji are in the foreground, and Vižinada is on a ridge in the background. Straight ahead are Mirna and the Adriatic, but the silvery sliver of the sea can be seen only when the sun is directly above it, which was not the case when I took the shots. The blue river and the white road twist their way toward Poreč on the coast. Northwest is Grožnjan on its own hill, and north is Livade, as well as the road to Oprtalj, which is hidden by a ridge. Northeast is the road to Buzet, which is almost as far as Pazin and Poreč. Vineyards and fields dominate the view from the terrace. The vineyards are still green, as is a wide swath along the river and the road, but the fields and woods are different shades of pale brown. The woods are a bit darker than the fields, some of which are partially flooded. Like the river, the submerged patches reflect the blue sky. The next time I will be able to smell the valley will be in late March, when the green will be at its most luxuriant. By the time I move to my new home in late July, many of the fields will be pale ocher already. Some will have been harvested by then, too. In a few years I will be able to tell each season, and perhaps each and every month, by the shifting colors of the Mirna valley.