As I am turning my hot sauce on the parapet of my sunlit terrace, I am looking at the splendid landscape in front of me. Vineyards, fields, woods, roads, hamlets… Out of the blue, I notice several trees in the vineyards closest to the Motovun hill. I look a bit more closely. The trees are at least five years old, I reckon. Or maybe older. They are casting sizeable shadows onto the vineyards, which are still in use. I cannot believe my own eyes. How come I have not noticed these trees ever before? And I pride myself when it comes to looking. I am no less than a pro when it comes to the landscape in front of me. Or so I have maintained for years. But the trees are contradicting me. And how. It crosses my mind to check the photographs I have taken of the Mirna valley from the terrace, of which they are many, but I resist this urge. The trees are contradicting me, all right. They cannot appear out of nowhere. They are only trees. “Time to become more vigilant,” I can almost hear myself. “Time to abandon all pride.”