I am standing on the terrace of my house in the nippy air just before dawn. The paling sky is crystal clear. To the west, straight ahead of me, the full moon hangs high above the Mirna valley, which is shrouded by thick, low clouds. The Adriatic shimmers in the distance. To the east, behind the house, the sun is about to peak over the hills. The first greens are emerging in the valley, and the first ruddy-browns and yellows glow on the hills. High above the horizon, the sky is turning purple and pink. I had to get out of bed, get dressed, and walk out of the cozy house to witness this wonder. Just as I am about to leave the terrace and return to bed, distant bells start tolling. It is six-thirty exactly.