Who is “Vukov konak”?

We are Jasmin (Mr.) and Nepu (Mrs.). We live here, on a mountain in Bosnia, with our two daughters, and many animals. We’re a family with three languages and two very different cultures, united with a lot of love and spiced with plenty of laughter and shared pursuits.

Jasmin is in charge of the kitchen, cooking all dishes from scratch. He also takes care of any building, renovation, and repairing that needs to be done. He chops the wood, mends the fences, does the heavy chores with animals, too. Jasmin is an outdoors kind of guy, with a special interest in the mountain wildlife.

Jasmin was born in Sarajevo, and spent most of his childhood in this village, Vučja Luka, where his grandparents had a weekend house. He moved to Ljubljana, Slovenia in 1995.

Nepu takes care of the rooms and sees to it that the numerous animals are doing well. She updates the website, the blog, and the Facebook page. Nepu loves the simple way of living. This lifestyle allows her to fulfill a dream of having children and working at the same time, all melting into one.
She writes a blog called Mt Rewild in English and contributes to a Finnish wellbeing website by blogging there, too.

Nepu was born in Helsinki, Finland, and moved to Ljubljana, Slovenia in 2010.

We are enthusiastic about slow mountain life, good food, and sustainable and natural living. We’re interested in different kinds of lifestyles, the stories people carry with them, and seeing the far corners of the world – hopefully through our Defender windows.

We moved to the mountain from Ljubljana, Slovenia, about 550 kilometers and two country borders away. We both used to work in film, event, and culture industry, having somewhat busy lives. In February 2013 Jasmin’s mother unexpectedly passed away and we made a quick decision to come here, to take care of the house and animals. The transition has been profound and at times challenging, full of surprises, to say the least. And we’re so happy to experience this adventure, it’s a wonderful way of life!

Our Animals

We share our land with a lively crew of animals, each with a strong personality and an important role in the rhythm of our days. There are goats who provide us with fresh milk for cheese and yogurt, their playful antics a constant source of entertainment for our daughters. A flock of chickens scratch in the orchard, giving us eggs with yolks so orange they look like miniature suns. Our two working dogs, Reko and Brina, keep an eye on everything that moves, alerting us when wild boar or deer wander too close to the fences. The cats, mostly expert mouse hunters, curl up by the wood stove in the evening.

Caring for so many creatures is a full-time dance of feeding, mucking out, and checking for signs of illness or injury. Jasmin handles the heavier side: repairing sheds, hauling hay bales, and trimming hooves. Nepu keeps the health records, plans the rotational grazing, and makes sure each animal gets a little daily affection. The girls are growing up with a deep understanding that meat and milk don’t come from a supermarket shelf. They collect eggs, cuddle baby goats, and help scatter grain in the morning. This connection to the source of our food is one of the quiet gifts of mountain life.

The Kitchen at the Heart of the Home

Everything revolves around the kitchen, a warm room filled with the scent of woodsmoke, fresh bread, and simmering stews. Jasmin’s approach is slow and instinctive: he cooks without timers, relying on his senses and the ingredients that the season offers. We grow much of our own vegetables — potatoes, onions, kale, Swiss chard, tomatoes — and preserve whatever we can’t eat right away. Jars of ajvar, pickled wild garlic, and tangy plum jam line the shelves, next to sacks of dried beans and buckwheat flour. The wood-fired oven is lit several times a week, and out of it come crusty sourdough loaves, flaky burek, and roasted root vegetables.

A typical meal at Vukov Konak doesn’t rely on a recipe card. It might start with a broth made from the bones of a goat we raised, enriched with foraged wild mushrooms and garden herbs. The main dish could be a slow-cooked bean stew with smoked ribs or a dish of stuffed peppers picked that morning. Guests often wonder how so much flavour lands on one plate, and the answer is always the same: patience, good firewood, and a little bit of mountain magic. We eat together at the long wooden table, the meal stretching out as stories and laughter fill the air. For us, food is far more than fuel — it’s the language of welcome, the centre of our family life.

Some of the favourites that appear most often on our family table are:

• Lamb roasted in the wood oven with rosemary and garlic from the garden
• Bosnian pita rolled so thin you can see through the dough, filled with potato, cheese, or spinach
• Thick yogurt made from goat’s milk, topped with wildflower honey from a neighbour’s hives
• Slow-simmered begova čorba, a creamy chicken and vegetable soup flavoured with okra and a whisper of lemon

A Guest’s Day at Vukov Konak

We open our home to a handful of visitors each year, mostly people who are looking for something quieter than an ordinary holiday. There are no fixed timetables or organised activities. Instead, we offer a simple, clean room with a view of the forested ridges, and an invitation to slip into our natural rhythm. Mornings often begin with the sound of roosters and the smell of coffee brewing on the stove. After a generous breakfast — perhaps eggs fried in butter, fresh cheese, and homemade bread — a guest might join Jasmin on a walk to check the snares or identify animal tracks in the mud. Others prefer to settle into a hammock with a book, the only disturbance being the distant ringing of goat bells.

If you stay with us, you’ll quickly learn that time behaves differently up here. Afternoons might be spent helping Nepu in the garden, learning to milk a goat, or hiking to a hidden waterfall that doesn’t appear on any map. In berry season, we all head out with baskets to gather wild blueberries and raspberries, returning with stained fingers and faces. Evenings are for long dinners by the fire, listening to Jasmin’s stories about the wolves and bears that still roam these mountains. We don’t offer Wi‑Fi or television; instead, we offer the chance to reconnect with the world that hums and rustles outside the window, and to feel part of a family that lives that connection every day.

The Rhythm of the Seasons

Living on the mountain means living in step with the seasons, and each month brings its own set of urgent, beautiful tasks. Spring is a rush of new life: we plant the vegetable beds, repair winter damage to the fences, and welcome new kids from the goats. The forest floor erupts with wild garlic and morels, and we spend long afternoons foraging and drying what we can’t use fresh. Summer is haymaking season, the hot days filled with the swish of scythes and the sweet smell of cut grass, followed by the race to pile it all into the barn before the next thunderstorm rolls in.

Autumn is our busiest time, a golden blur of harvesting, preserving, and preparing for the cold. We dig potatoes, pick apples, press juice, and fill the larder with jars of roasted peppers, pickled cucumbers, and thick fruit butters. The animals grow heavier winter coats, and we bring the hay closer to the barn, ready for the months when snowdrifts make the paths impassable. Winter, by contrast, is a season of stillness. The world shrinks to the circle of light around the wood stove. We read, play games, mend clothes, and plan for the next year. The snow covers everything in a deep hush, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional howl of a distant wolf. This quiet time is when Nepu writes most for Mt Rewild, reflecting on the lessons of the land and the rich simplicity of a life lived with attention and care.

This slow, seasonal heartbeat is what we love most about our home. It’s not always easy — wood needs to be chopped, water pipes sometimes freeze, and a sick animal can turn the whole day upside down. But the rewards are immense. Watching our daughters grow up knowing the name of every bird, tasting food that they planted themselves, seeing their small hands gentle with a newborn kid — these are the moments that make us certain we’ve chosen the right path.