Every year, as the snow begins to melt and the first crocuses push through the earth, I feel that familiar tingle. I know: summer is coming, and with it, my time up in the mountains. In just a few weeks, in June, I’ll once again head into the Alps with a herd of cattle – back to the wild, wide silence, where life still moves to the rhythm of nature.

Isn’t it exactly this that connects me so deeply with the world – with the present moment? Exactly this: that I go to the market. There, I buy honey from a beekeeper. Just a few weeks ago, the bees pollinated the first spring blossoms and captured everything in this honey – the taste of spring, which can only taste the way spring feels, the way it appears to us, the way it smells.

Dark clouds gather ominously on the horizon, thick and heavy with the promise of a storm. I pause in my work, my steps quickening as I hurry to return before it arrives. There’s a palpable tension in the air, a stillness that feels charged with the coming tempest.

In an instant, a powerful wind sweeps through, followed by torrents of rain,…

The life of a shepherd is an art of living, a gentle yet powerful harmony with nature. I tend to the land for a time, nurturing and caring for it as if it were a trusted friend, embracing me with its calm and beauty. I feed it, protect it, and let it bloom and thrive. With my hands, I shape the cheese from the milk, a work that carries the essence of this time and place. And the cattle entrusted to me flourish here on high, healthy and content.