Some days, the course of life is set afresh. Our ancestor Genovefa was overcome by a burst of courage one summer's day in the Alps. The story of our nature hotel begins right here.
Genovefa
About summer, destiny and the courage that moves mountains.
Genovefa pulled her straw hat down over her face as the July sun beat down from a steel-blue sky. Two lemon butterflies fluttered lazily across the alpine meadow, the scent of wild thyme heavy in the air. Up here on the Rodenecker-Lüsner Alm, nature had always spoken a different language. Rougher, more honest. A few more steps and Genovefa had reached her destination: there it stood, the crooked Runa Alm. It had been named after the rotten tree stumps surrounding it. Not a flattering name, but fitting for the crooked shape of the old building. Strange how something so transient could survive for so many centuries, Genovefa mused. The Liner farmer came back to her mind. He was the reason for her strenuous climb. The old man had announced yesterday after mass that he wanted to sell his alpine hut. He had become too tired for the hard work up there. And Genovefa had suddenly felt this restlessness in her chest and sensed that this was an opportunity waiting to be seized!
When dreams take root
A light mountain breeze ruffled her hair. In the distance, cowbells rang out their ancient song and the rotten wood beneath Genovefa's hands seemed to come to life. ‘What will become of you?’ she murmured. The voice of reason spoke briefly and clearly, warning her of debt and deprivation. Was it a coincidence that she spoke in the same tone as Genovefa's father? She was not a headless dreamer. She knew the harshness of mountain life. But there were other voices in Genovefa's heart. Those with dreams and desires and an unshakeable trust in God that with hard work and confidence, anything could be achieved. Her mind was made up. She wanted to buy the Runa Alm and turn it into a destination for people seeking relaxation. She wished, no! She knew that the people from the city would love it up here.
As the bright rays of the midday sun cut sharp contours into the idyll and the crickets began their concert, Genovefa made her way back down to the valley. Tomorrow she would make her offer to the Liner farmer. Sometimes you have to seize fate by the scruff of the neck. Even if it is as misshapen and unruly as an old, rotten tree stump – a Runa, in fact.
