Beautiful Winter landscapes
A gloomy autumn replaced by winter – an amazing and beautiful time of the year! The first snow fell and everything – covered with a snow cover, like a white fluffy blanket. Particularly beautiful on clear days, when the rays of the sun, reflected and shimmering in the snow, fill everything with bright light.
Snowflakes quietly fall to the ground, then in the form of stars, then in the form of grains. But the most beautiful thing is when the snow falls in flakes. It seems that it is not snow flying but flakes of cotton wool. Snow covers the roofs of houses, cars, trees and streets. Beautiful, like in a fairy tale!
The bare trees stand wrapped in snow blankets, and only one spruce spread their fluffy paws. The tits croak, picking up the red berries of mountain ash. Occasionally the rabbit will run. It has already changed its gray coat to a light outfit.
What a wonderful time – winter! Frosts trapped water. The birches froze in snow-white fringes, shaggy hats on the pines shine, sparkled snow covered cones on the branches of the fir trees. The silence is quiet all around. The frosty air bites. You come out of the spruce twilight – breathtaking beauty with such a radiance of snow, sky, and sun! It’s just a miracle!
And winter is especially beautiful in the city. The winter sun wanders, as if in the mountains, between the houses. Meanwhile, in the forest at this time, too, happen many interesting things. While the snow is still shallow, traces of animals seen everywhere in the forest. Birds also often land in search of food. The squirrel manages to find favorite fruits, even when the thickness of the snow cover is great. At the edge of the forest, the moose feed on the willow. Raising clouds of snow, make their way along the path of wild boar. A hazel grouse flew out of the bushes to the edge and sat down on the tree. And a bear sleeps in the den near by.
What is it about? About the beauty of nature. About all living things on Earth.
O winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath rear’d his sceptre o’er the world.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st
With storms, till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.
William Blake (from Poetical Sketches, 1783)