There is nothing more beautiful than spring. No, not that early spring with its gray sky, pale sun and gloomy mood. There is nothing more beautiful than late spring, when the last champing cereals from mud and snow disappear, when the luminaries flare up and make roads dry, when the twittering of birds grows louder, when life begins anew.
All natural nature rises after a sound sleep. Here are the kidneys, carefully warmed by the sun, swollen and ready to hatch at any moment. Here is the land, breathing a sigh of relief from oppression. Here are the first flowers: lilies of the valley, crocuses, daffodils, violets. They spread their delicate multi-colored petals and stretch for the timid sunshine. Behind the flowers – insects, insects. Beetles, spiders, butterflies, dragonflies – they all crawl out of their homes and fill the space with their liveliness, restless chirping, buzzing. Birds return from distant unknown lands, equip their homes, sing their iridescent sonorous songs.
On such a fine spring day it’s nice to go out into the countryside. Feel the fresh beckoning air, hear the rustling of young grass underfoot, find a flower meadow strewn with, perhaps, bright yellow dandelions. To catch the babbling sounds of a stream running along a small slope. To see the traces of animals, also departed from prolonged hibernation. Or look out for a hare who has replaced his snow-white fur coat with a gray inconspicuous camisole.
Surrounded by this nascent life, you can relax and watch. Sit on the banks of a full-flowing river, in a fragrant meadow, under the crown of a tree that has not yet matured and observe. As the wind plays in young leaves, as a terry bumblebee or a bee falls to honey plants in search of nectar, as a May bug drives famously, as a ladybug crawls slowly along a blade of grass, as the first berries ripen on a bush of wild strawberries.
Toward the end of one of such fine days, you can see thickening clouds, feel warm drops of rain on your face, quickly turning into torrential streams, and then hear the rolling thunder of an approaching thunderstorm. The first thunderstorm. In the spring, such a thunderstorm is especially exciting. The roar of colliding clouds, awesome lightning in a black starless sky and the smell of ozone in the morning.
The nature of late spring is delightful and beautiful. Such a gentle, but already gained strength. Its beauty is youth and the beginning, liveliness and lightness, openness and sensuality. Life itself is in it.