As I watched the setting sun, which was crimson in the fine haze, I saw waves of thick mist rolling from the sea up the Mirna valley. The fluffy waves moved quite fast. By the time the sun disappeared behind the hills to the south, the swirling vapors reached the fields beneath Motovun. Soon afterwards, the entire Mirna valley was shrouded in soft, fading purple. The heavy mist will keep billowing up the surrounding hills until dawn, by which time it will stop just short of acacias that line my garden from below. When I wake up and open the shutters, I will look down at a vast sea of shifting clouds. That knowledge, that certainty, is not only soothing, but also uplifting.