We are entranced to spy masses of bright crocuses in the quiet meadow.

Jože checks on the fresh chicken.

Daffodils, in riotous bloom, greet us.

Young students board the red local train to Sevnica.

We wander on.

We gather under the ash tree at dawn.

Maks checks on the hot chicken.

The snowdrops are growing thickly.

Pale, funny Jurij offers us a gift of tart pears.

A coppery sunset.

Everyone has come together for the evening meal. Curvy Celestina cracks chestnuts.

A darkening twilight.

'Don't you miss California?' people always ask. We don't miss the desperate thirst of the land, the fiery summers, the wildfire terror. Not here, with hills, green mountains, and the music of rushing water in our ears.

Birds twitter in the trees.

Jure stretches.

The children sing.

A scarlet sunset.

Tall, fashionable Anastazija offers us a gift of rich pears.

Mateja is baking golden cookies.

Old, persuasive Nikola offers us a gift of overripe pears.

Frogs jump on a lily pad.

There will be cake. Slim Mojca cracks walnuts.

We meander under the gnarled cedar trees.

The farm might be the land before time, after rambling cool dawns.

We are eager to come in from the dark.

The boom of distant thunder.

We arrive in the dawn. Everyone greets us with 'Dobro jutro'.

Quiet all through the house. Young Frančiška cracks walnuts.

'Don't you miss home?' people always ask. We don't miss the agonized drought of the land, the fiery summers, the world turning to ashes. Not here, with forests, dreaming creeks, and the music of rushing water in our ears.

We dine upon hazelnut cake.

The roses are beginning to bud.

Daisies greet us.

Short Natalija wipes her hands on her apron.

The crocuses are beginning to bud.

The valley could be the promised land, during sultry days.

Thin, vital Danilo cooks sizzling fried trout, while brave Roman pours us some tea.

Middle-aged, vivacious Barbara offers us a gift of tart fruits.

We gravitate into sunlight.

We are entranced to see many fresh roses by the kitchen door.

'Don't you miss California?' people always ask. We don't miss the withering thirst of the land, the fierce summers, the smoke hanging in the sky. Not here, with hills, blue forests, and lush growing things.

The children run.

A silent night. We dance.

'Don't you miss America?' people always ask. We don't miss the agonized desiccation of the land, the fiery summers, the avenging fires burning up the forests. Not here, with rivers, crystalline streams, and the music of rushing water in our ears.

Quiet all through the house. Pale Anastazija cracks chestnuts.

Snowdrops gladden our sight.

Blue-eyed Slavko does farm chores.

We gravitate under the fructiferous peach trees.

We linger slowly around rain.

We arrive in the day. Everyone greets us with 'Dober dan'.

We savor rich chocolates.