In the high pastures of Livigno, life doesn’t move in bursts, but in continuity. The days are never the same, yet they all resemble one another: they begin with the sound of the milk pail, continue with the slow steps of the animals climbing toward the grazing fields, and end with the light slipping behind the peaks. Time isn’t measured by the clock, but by nature, by the weather, by the constant presence of a mountain that never stops asking for attention and respect. For Zeila Cusini, this rhythm isn’t an exception, it’s the normality of a life she has chosen, and continues to choose every year.
“We move up to the alpine pastures only during the summer months,” she says, describing with ease a world that for many feels almost imaginary. “Our days revolve around milking and cheese production. Alongside the work in the barn, there’s also the agriturismo and the contact with people. It’s an intense period, far from the village and from comfort, but it gives us great satisfaction and allows us to live the mountain in an authentic way.”
There is no nostalgia in her words, no heroism, only the awareness of a craft that cannot be improvised, that requires constancy, that is built day after day, season after season.
Summer, for the Silvestri family, is a whirlwind of activity. The days begin early, when the air is still fresh and the silence of the pasture is broken only by the sound of cowbells. “Summer is the most intense period,” Zeila explains. “We live immersed in nature, and the days follow the rhythm of the animals and the work in the agriturismo.”
It’s an intensity that doesn’t weigh on you, because it’s part of the natural cycle of things: in summer the mountain asks for presence, energy, dedication and in return it offers a beauty that cannot be explained, only lived.
Winter, instead, brings a different kind of time. “It allows us to slow down a little, to find a calmer rhythm,” she says. Slowing down doesn’t mean stopping, but finding a different balance, more intimate, more domestic. In winter, the mountain becomes a silent teacher: it teaches patience, care, the ability to wait.
Growing up in such an environment means learning early that nothing is immediate and everything has value. “Children learn respect for the mountain, for the animals, and for daily work,” Zeila says. “Growing up on the alpine pastures means understanding the value of commitment and how much patience lies behind simple things, like a well‑made piece of cheese.”
It’s an education that isn’t taught through words, but through gestures: watching adults, taking part, making mistakes, trying again. A way of growing that shapes character and leaves a deep imprint.
In the life of a mountain family, rituals play a fundamental role. They aren’t traditions preserved out of nostalgia, but gestures that hold everything together, that give continuity, that remind you where you come from. “We try to keep alive the traditions we learned from our grandparents,” Zeila says. “Like cutting wood to heat the house and keeping the forest clean.”
They may seem simple tasks, almost obvious, but they contain ancient knowledge: care for the land, responsibility toward what you inherit, the awareness that the mountain must be respected every single day.
And then there is a moment that, more than any other, represents the essence of their life: the afternoon snack. “One of the most beautiful moments is when we all gather in the afternoon for a snack,” she says, with a smile you can hear even without seeing it. “Simple moments of sharing that represent the meaning of the work done during the day.”
It’s in those minutes that the family comes together again, that fatigue finds meaning, that the mountain seems to pause for an instant.
Producing in a place like Livigno means accepting that every product is a story. “Producing here means enhancing what the mountain offers,” Zeila explains. “The milk, the pastures, the air of Livigno make the products special and tell the story of the territory, the climate, the effort and the passion behind them.”
Every wheel of cheese is a piece of landscape, a fragment of season, a gesture repeated with care.
Welcoming guests, for the Silvestri family, it’s a natural extension of their life. “For us, welcoming means sharing our daily routine and letting people experience life on the alpine pastures up close,” Zeila says. “We like to convey simplicity, authenticity, and the bond we have with this place.”
It’s a form of hospitality that isn’t designed at a desk, but born from the truth of their way of living.
And when it comes to the future, Zeila has no doubts: the next generation will carry forward what truly matters. “We hope they’ll keep alive the bond with the land and with tradition,” she says. “Surely with new ideas, but without losing what makes this place special.”
It’s a wish that goes beyond the family it speaks to the entire community of Livigno.
Because in the end, what makes Livigno a place worth staying in isn’t just nature, nor just tranquility, nor just shared work. It’s the sum of all these things: a fragile and precious balance built day after day. “Working together as a family has allowed us to pass on to our children a sense of unity and determination,” Zeila concludes. “Whatever path they choose.”
The mountain grows like this: slowly, patiently, through gestures that repeat and transform. And those who truly live it know: it isn’t the mountain that changes people. It’s people who, growing with it, learn to change in the right way.