Exploring the Alpine Meadows: A Call to Protect Nature

Hello, Zen Adventurers!

Thirty-five years. That’s how long it had been since my boots last touched the slopes of Beuil-Valberg, the Alpine haven where I learned to ski as a child. Back then, the world was a blur of snowflakes and laughter. This summer, I returned—not to carve tracks on snow, but to wander the sun-drenched meadows where the mountains whisper secrets only summer reveals.

A Sanctuary Unchanged by Time

Driving just 80 minutes from the glitter of Nice, the Alps of the South rise like a green fortress. Valberg greeted me with pine-scented air so pure, it felt like breathing for the first time. No pollution. No chemicals. Just wild grass swaying in the breeze, forests standing as silent sentinels, and flowers painting the slopes in strokes of violet, gold, and crimson.

But the real magic? Life. Everywhere.

The Pollinators’ Paradise

Down in the valleys, we hear grim tales of disappearing bees and butterflies—victims of pesticides and a world out of balance. But here, high in this untouched Eden, the pollinators thrive in riotous celebration. French ecologists call them butineurs—the “foragers.” I call them nature’s poets.

I sat in a meadow, and within minutes, the air hummed with wings. It was as if the flowers had summoned a living tapestry:

• A Bumblebee (the Transformer hero of my kids’ dreams!), fuzzy and determined.

And so many more: Spilostethus pandurus beetles, Volucella hoverflies, Cylindromyia flies—all weaving a dance of survival and symbiosis. Their numbers were staggering. Their energy, infectious. I spent hours crouched in the grass, camera in hand, capturing their ballet. Each click felt like a prayer: Thank you. Stay wild. Stay safe.

The Coffee Guest

Later, back at our rented cabin, I sipped coffee on the terrace. As if summoned by the aroma, a Common butterfly fluttered down and perched on the rim of my cup. For a heartbeat, we shared the silence—a tiny jewel of life trusting a giant from another world. It was a reminder: nature isn’t separate from us. It welcomes us, if we tread gently.

In these mountains, I relearned a truth we often forget: wild places remember how to heal. Without chemicals, without noise, life flourishes in chaotic, glorious harmony. Those butterflies ( and other insects)? They’re not just pretty faces. They’re pollinators—the architects of forests, the guardians of biodiversity. When they vanish, ecosystems crumble.

A Call to Your Wild Heart

So, dear Zen wanderers, I invite you to:

Beuil-Valberg taught me that mountains hold memories. They remember child-me on skis. They remember generations of wildflowers. And if we listen, they’ll teach us how to belong to this planet again.

Next time you feel disconnected, seek the high places. The pollinators are waiting.

“Why This Matters”

I’m guided on these trips by the idea of The Long Run—long-term stewardship of places we love—expressed in the 4Cs: Conservation, Community, Culture and Commerce. My mindful photography is rooted first in Conservation (protecting pollinators and habitats), and also honors Community (the people and memories that make Beuil–Valberg home), celebrates Culture (mountain traditions that shaped my childhood), and supports responsible Commerce (tourism that gives back). In short: I aim to observe gently, document honestly, and use images to inspire care for the long run. TheLongRun.Org

Note: Our Travel agency Lost Road is a proud Member of

P.S. My kids are now convinced bumblebees are undercover Autobots. I didn’t argue. 🌸🤖