Winter- a magical and fabulous time of the year, the whole natural world froze in deep sleep. The cold forest sleeps, covered with a white fur coat, you can’t hear the animals, they hide in their minks, they wait out the long winter, only a few go out to hunt. Only wind and snowstorm, eternal companions of winter.

Listening to fairy tales and stories about nature in winter, children learn about the life of the world around them in difficult times. winter time years, how trees survive the winter, animals, how birds hibernate, learn about natural phenomena in winter.

Winter

K.V. Lukashevich

She appeared muffled, white, cold.
- Who are you? the children asked.
- I - the season - winter. I brought snow with me and will soon throw it on the ground. He will cover everything with a white fluffy blanket. Then my brother will come - Santa Claus and freeze the fields, meadows and rivers. And if the guys start acting naughty, they will freeze their hands, feet, cheeks and noses.
- Oh oh oh! What a bad winter! What a terrible Santa Claus! the children said.
- Wait, children ... But then I will give you skiing from the mountains, skates and sledges. And then your favorite Christmas will come with a cheerful Christmas tree and Santa Claus with gifts. Don't you love winters?

kind girl

K.V. Lukashevich

It was a harsh winter. Everything was covered with snow. Sparrows had a hard time from this. The poor things could not find food anywhere. Sparrows flew around the house and chirped plaintively.
The kind girl Masha took pity on the sparrows. She began to collect bread crumbs, and every day poured them at her porch. The sparrows flew in to feed and soon ceased to be afraid of Masha. So the kind girl fed the poor birds until spring.

Winter

Frost bound the earth. Rivers and lakes are frozen. Everywhere lies white fluffy snow. Children are happy with winter. It's nice to ski on fresh snow. Seryozha and Zhenya are playing snowballs. Lisa and Zoya are making a snowman.
Only animals have a hard time in the winter cold. Birds fly closer to housing.
Guys, help our little friends in winter. Make bird feeders.

There was Volodya on the Christmas tree

Daniil Kharms, 1930

There was Volodya on the Christmas tree. All the children danced, and Volodya was so small that he could not even walk.
They put Volodya in an armchair.
Here Volodya saw a gun: "Give it! Give it!" - screams. And he can’t say what “give”, because he is so small that he still doesn’t know how to speak. But Volodya wants everything: he wants an airplane, he wants a car, he wants a green crocodile. Want everything!
"Give! Give!" - shouts Volodya.
They gave Volodya a rattle. Volodya took the rattle and calmed down. All the children are dancing around the Christmas tree, and Volodya is sitting in an armchair and ringing with a rattle. Volodya liked the rattle very much!

Last year I was at the Christmas tree with my friends and girlfriends

Vanya Mokhov

Last year I was at the Christmas tree with my friends and girlfriends. It was a lot of fun. On the Christmas tree at Yashka - he played tag, on the Christmas tree at Shurka - he played blind man's buff, on the Christmas tree at Ninka - he looked at pictures, on the Christmas tree at Volodya - he danced in a round dance, on the Christmas tree at Lizaveta - he ate chocolate candies, on the Christmas tree at Pavlusha - he ate apples and pears.
And this year I will go to the Christmas tree to school - it will be even more fun there.

Snowman

There lived a snowman. He lived on the edge of the forest. It was covered by children who came running here to play and sled. They made three lumps of snow, put them on top of each other. Instead of eyes, two coals were inserted into the snowman, and a carrot was inserted instead of a nose. A bucket was put on the snowman's head, and his hands were made from old brooms. One boy liked the snowman so much that he gave him a scarf.

The children were called home, and the snowman was left alone, standing in the cold winter wind. Suddenly he saw that two birds flew to the tree under which he was standing. One big one with a long nose began to peck a tree, and the other began to look at the snowman. The snowman was scared: "What do you want to do with me?" And the bullfinch, and it was him, replies: “I don’t want to do anything to you, I’ll just eat a carrot now.” “Oh, oh, don’t eat carrots, that’s my nose. Look, there is a feeder hanging on that tree, the children left a lot of food there.” The bullfinch thanked the snowman. Since then, they have become friends.

Hello winter!

So, she came, the long-awaited winter! It's good to run through the frost on the first winter morning! The streets, yesterday still dull in autumn, are completely covered with white snow, and the sun shimmers in it with a blinding brilliance. A bizarre pattern of frost lay on shop windows and tightly closed windows of houses, hoarfrost covered the branches of poplars. If you look along the street, which stretches out like an even ribbon, if you look close around you, everything is the same everywhere: snow, snow, snow. Occasionally a rising breeze tingles the face and ears, but how beautiful everything is around! What gentle, soft snowflakes smoothly swirl in the air. No matter how prickly frost, it is also pleasant. Isn't it because we all love winter, that, just like spring, it fills the chest with an exciting feeling. Everything is alive, everything is bright in the transformed nature, everything is full of invigorating freshness. It is so easy to breathe and so good in the soul that you involuntarily smile and want to say in a friendly way to this wonderful winter morning: “Hello, winter!”

“Hello, long-awaited, vigorous winter!”

The day was soft and misty. The reddish sun hung low over long, snowfield-like stratus clouds. Frost-covered pink trees stood in the garden. The vague shadows on the snow were drenched in the same warm light.

snowdrifts

(From the story "Nikita's Childhood")

The wide yard was all covered with shining, white soft snow. Blue in it are deep human and frequent dog tracks. The air, frosty and thin, pinched in my nose, pricked my cheeks with needles. The carriage house, sheds and barnyards stood squat, covered with white hats, as if rooted in snow. Like glass, traces of runners ran from the house across the entire yard.
Nikita ran down the crunchy steps from the porch. Below was a brand new pine bench with a bast twisted rope. Nikita examined it - it was made firmly, tried it - it glided well, put the bench on his shoulder, grabbed a shovel, thinking that he would need it, and ran along the road along the garden to the dam. There stood huge, almost to the sky, wide willows, covered with hoarfrost - each branch was exactly made of snow.
Nikita turned to the right, towards the river, and tried to follow the road, following in the footsteps of others...
On the steep banks of the Chagra River these days large fluffy snowdrifts have piled up. In other places they hung like capes over the river. Just stand on such a cape - and he will hoot, sit down, and a mountain of snow will roll down in a cloud of snow dust.
To the right the river wound like a bluish shadow between the white and fluffy fields. To the left, above the very steep, blackened huts, sticking out the cranes of the village of Sosnovki. High blue haze rose from the rooftops and melted away. On a snowy cliff, where stains and stripes turned yellow from the ashes that had been raked out of the stoves today, small figures were moving. These were Nikita's friends - boys from "our end" of the village. And further, where the river was bent, you could hardly see other boys, "Kon-chan", very dangerous.
Nikita threw down the shovel, lowered the bench into the snow, sat astride it, firmly grasped the rope, kicked off with his feet twice, and the bench itself went down the mountain. The wind whistled in my ears, snow dust rose from both sides. Down, all down like an arrow. And suddenly, where the snow broke off over the steep, the bench swept through the air and slid onto the ice. She went quieter, quieter and became.
Nikita laughed, climbed down from the bench and dragged it up the hill, bogging down to the knee. When he climbed ashore, not far away, on a snowy field, he saw a black, taller than human figure, as it seemed, the figure of Arkady Ivanovich. Nikita grabbed a shovel, threw himself on a bench, flew down and ran across the ice to the place where the snowdrifts hung like a cape over the river.
Climbing under the very cape, Nikita began to dig a cave. The work was easy - the snow was cut with a shovel. Having dug out the little cave, Nikita climbed into it, dragged the bench in and began to fill up with clods from the inside. When the wall was laid, a blue half-light spilled into the cave - it was cozy and pleasant. Nikita sat and thought that none of the boys had such a wonderful bench ...
- Nikita! Where did you fail? he heard the voice of Arkady Ivanovich.
Nikita... looked into the gap between the clods. Below, on the ice, Arkady Ivanovich stood with his head thrown back.
- Where are you, robber?
Arkady Ivanovich adjusted his spectacles and climbed to the cave, but immediately got stuck up to the waist;
Get out, I'll get you out of there anyway. Nikita was silent. Arkady Ivanovich tried to climb
higher, but bogged down again, put his hands in his pockets and said:
- You don't want to, you don't have to. Stay. The fact is that my mother received a letter from Samara ... However, goodbye, I'm leaving ...
- Which letter? asked Nikita.
- Yeah! So you are still here.
- Tell me, from whom is the letter?
- A letter about the arrival of some people for the holidays.
Snow clods immediately flew from above. Nikita's head popped out of the cave. Arkady Ivanovich laughed merrily.

Story about trees in winter.

Trees, having gathered strength over the summer, stop feeding, grow, and fall into a deep sleep by winter.
Trees throw them off themselves, refuse them in order to keep the warmth necessary for life. And the leaves dropped from the branches, rotting on the ground, give warmth and protect the roots of the trees from freezing.
Moreover, each tree has a shell that protects plants from frost.
This is the bark. The bark does not let water or air through. The older the tree, the thicker its bark. This is why old trees are more cold tolerant than young ones.
But the most best defense from frost - a snow cover. In snowy winters, snow, like a duvet, covers the forest, and even then the forest is not afraid of any cold.

Buran

A snowy white cloud, huge as the sky, covered the entire horizon, and the last light of the red, burnt evening dawn was quickly covered with a thick veil. Suddenly night fell... the storm came with all its fury, with all its horrors. The desert wind blew up in the open air, blew up the snowy steppes like swan fluff, threw them up to the sky ... Everything was dressed in white darkness, impenetrable, like the darkness of the darkest autumn night!

Everything merged, everything mixed up: the earth, the air, the sky turned into an abyss of boiling snowy dust, which blinded the eyes, took the breath, roared, whistled, howled, moaned, beat, ruffled, spun from all sides, twisted around like a kite from above and below, and strangled everything he came across.

The heart drops in the most intimidating person, the blood freezes, stops from fear, and not from cold, because the cold during snowstorms is significantly reduced. So terrible is the sight of the indignation of the winter northern nature...

The storm raged from hour to hour. It raged all night and all the next day, so there was no ride. Deep ravines became high mounds...

Finally, the excitement of the snowy ocean began to subside little by little, which continues even then, when the sky is already shining with a cloudless blue.

Another night passed. The violent wind died down, the snows subsided. The steppes presented the appearance of a stormy sea, suddenly frozen over ... The sun rolled out into a clear sky; its rays played on the wavy snows...

Winter

The real winter has come. The ground was covered with a snow-white carpet. Not a single dark spot remained. Even bare birches, alders and mountain ash were covered with hoarfrost, like silvery fluff. They stood, covered with snow, as if they had put on an expensive warm coat ...

It was the first snow

It was about eleven o'clock in the evening, the first snow had recently fallen, and everything in nature was under the rule of this young snow. The air smelled of snow, and the snow crunched softly underfoot. The earth, the roofs, the trees, the benches on the boulevards - everything was soft, white, young, and this house looked different from yesterday. The lanterns burned brighter, the air was clearer...

Farewell to summer

(abbreviated)

One night I woke up with a strange sensation. I thought I went deaf in my sleep. I lay with open eyes, listened for a long time and, finally, realized that I had not gone deaf, but simply an unusual silence had come outside the walls of the house. This silence is called "dead". The rain died, the wind died, the noisy, restless garden died. All you could hear was the cat snoring in his sleep.
I opened my eyes. White and even light filled the room. I got up and went to the window - behind the panes everything was snowy and silent. In the foggy sky, a lone moon stood at a dizzying height, and a yellowish circle shimmered around it.
When did the first snow fall? I approached the walkers. It was so bright that the arrows were clearly black. They showed two hours. I fell asleep at midnight. This means that in two hours the earth has changed so unusually, in two short hours the fields, forests and gardens have been fascinated by the cold.
Through the window, I saw a large gray bird perch on a maple branch in the garden. The branch swayed, snow fell from it. The bird slowly got up and flew away, and the snow continued to fall like glass rain falling from a Christmas tree. Then everything was quiet again.
Reuben woke up. He looked out the window for a long time, sighed and said:
- The first snow is very befitting the earth.
The earth was ornate, like a shy bride.
And in the morning everything crunched around: frozen roads, leaves on the porch, black nettle stalks sticking out from under the snow.
Grandfather Mitriy came to tea and congratulated me on the first trip.
- So the earth was washed, - he said, - with snow water from a silver trough.
- Where did you get, Mitrich, such words? Reuben asked.
- Is there something wrong? grandfather chuckled. - My mother, the deceased, said that in ancient times, beauties washed themselves with the first snow from a silver jug ​​and therefore their beauty never sluggish.
It was hard to stay at home on the first winter day. We went to the forest lakes. Grandfather walked us to the edge. He also wanted to visit the lakes, but "did not let the ache in his bones."
It was solemn, light and quiet in the forests.
The day seemed to be dozing. Lonely snowflakes occasionally fell from the cloudy high sky. We carefully breathed on them, and they turned into pure drops of water, then became cloudy, froze and rolled to the ground like beads.
We wandered through the forests until dusk, walked around familiar places. Flocks of bullfinches were sitting, ruffled, on rowan trees covered with snow ... In some places in the clearings, birds flew and squeaked plaintively. The sky overhead was very bright, white, and towards the horizon it thickened, and its color resembled lead. From there were slow snow clouds.
It grew darker and quieter in the forests, and finally a thick snow began to fall. He melted in the black water of the lake, tickled his face, powdered the forest with gray smoke. Winter has taken over the land...

Winter night

Night has come in the forest.

Frost taps on the trunks and branches of thick trees, light silver hoarfrost falls in flakes. In the dark high sky, bright winter stars visibly scattered...

But even in the frosty winter night, the hidden life in the forest continues. Here the frozen branch crunched and broke. It ran under the trees, bouncing softly, a white hare. Then something hooted and suddenly terribly laughed: somewhere an owl screamed, caresses howled and fell silent, ferrets hunt mice, owls silently fly over the snowdrifts. Like a fabulous sentry, a big-headed gray owlet sat on a bare bough. In the darkness of the night, he alone hears and sees life hidden from people walking in the winter forest.

Aspen

Beautiful aspen forest in winter. Against the background of dark firs, a thin lace of bare aspen branches intertwines.

Night and diurnal birds nest in the hollows of old thick aspens, naughty squirrels lay down their stocks for the winter. From thick logs, people hollowed out light shuttle boats, made troughs. White hares feed on the bark of young aspens in winter. The bitter bark of aspens is gnawed by moose.

You used to walk through the forest, and suddenly, unexpectedly, unexpectedly, with a noise, a heavy black grouse will fly off and fly. A white hare will jump out from under your feet and run.

Silver flashes

Short, gloomy December day. Snowy twilight flush with the windows, muddy dawn at ten o'clock in the morning. During the day, he chirps, drowning in snowdrifts, a flock of kids returning from school, creaks a cart with firewood or hay - and evening! In the frosty sky outside the village, silver flashes begin to dance and shimmer - the northern lights.

On sparrow's gallop

A little - just a day after the New Year was added to the sparrow lope. And the sun had not yet warmed - like a bear, on all fours, crawling along the spruce tops beyond the river.

snow words

We love winter, we love snow. It changes, it is different, and to tell about it, different words are needed.

And the snow falls from the sky in different ways. Throw up your head - and it seems that from the clouds, as from the branches Christmas tree, shreds of cotton wool are torn off. They are called flakes - these are snowflakes stuck together on the fly. And there is snow that you can’t expose your face to: hard white balls hurt your forehead. They have another name - krupka.

Pure snow that has just covered the ground is called powder. There is no better hunting than by powder! All tracks are fresh in fresh snow!

And snow lies on the ground in different ways. If he lay down, this does not mean that he calmed down until spring. The wind blew and the snow came to life.

You walk down the street, and at your feet there are white flashes: the snow, swept out by the janitor-wind, streams, flows along the ground. This is a blowing blizzard - a blowing snow.

If the wind is spinning, snow is blowing in the air - this is a blizzard. Well, and in the steppe, where there is no holding back the wind, a snow storm can break out - a snowstorm. If you shout, you won't hear a voice, you can't see anything within three steps.

February is the month of snowstorms, the month of running and flying snows. In March, the snow becomes lazy. It no longer scatters from the hand, like swan fluff, it has become motionless and solid: you step on it and your foot will not fall through.

It was over him that the sun and frost conjured. During the day everything melted in the sun, at night it froze, and the snow turned into an ice crust, hardened. For such stale snow, we have our own hard word - present.

Thousands of human eyes watch the snow in winter. Let your inquisitive eyes be among them.

(I. Nadezhdina)

First frost

The night passed under a large clear moon, and by morning the first frost had fallen. Everything was gray, but the puddles did not freeze. When the sun came up and warmed up, the trees and grasses were covered with such strong dew, the fir branches looked out of the dark forest with such luminous patterns that the diamonds of all our land would not be enough for this decoration.

The pine queen, sparkling from top to bottom, was especially beautiful.

(M. Prishvin)

quiet snow

They say about silence: "Quieter than water, lower than grass." But what could be quieter than falling snow! It snowed all day yesterday, and as if it brought silence from heaven. And every sound only intensified it: the rooster bellowed, the crow called, the woodpecker drummed, the jay sang with all its voices, but the silence grew from all this...

(M. Prishvin)

Winter has come

The hot summer flew by, the golden autumn passed, snow fell - winter came.

Cold winds blew. Trees stood naked in the forest - waiting for winter clothes. Spruces and pines have become even greener.

Many times snow began to fall in large flakes, and, waking up, people rejoiced at the winter: such a pure winter light shone through the window.

At the first powder, the hunters went hunting. And all day long the barking of dogs could be heard through the forest.

Stretched across the road and disappeared into the spruce forest accelerating hare trail. A fox trail, paw by paw, winds along the road. The squirrel ran across the road and, waving its fluffy tail, jumped onto the Christmas tree.

There are dark purple cones on the tops of the trees. Crossbills jump on cones.

Below, on the mountain ash, busty red-throated bullfinches scattered.

The couch potato bear is the best in the forest. Since autumn, the thrifty Mishka has prepared a lair. He broke soft spruce twigs-paws, kicked the odorous resinous bark.

Warm and cozy in a bear forest apartment. Bear lies, from side to side

flips over. He does not hear how a cautious hunter approached the lair.

(I. Sokolov-Mikitov)

Winter is blizzard

Frost walks on the streets at night.

Frost walks around the yard, taps, rumbles. The night is starry, the windows are blue, Frost painted ice flowers on the windows - no one can draw such flowers.

- Oh yes Frost!

Frost walks: either he will knock on the wall, then he will click on the gate, then he will shake off the frost from the birch and scare the dormant jackdaws. Frost is bored. Out of boredom, he will go to the river, hit the ice, begin to count the stars, and the stars are radiant, golden.

In the morning the stoves would be fired up, and Frost was right there—the blue smoke against the gilded sky became frozen pillars above the village.

- Oh yes Frost! ..

(I. Sokolov-Mikitov)

Snow

The earth is covered with a clean white tablecloth and is resting. Deep drifts rise. The forest covered itself with heavy white caps and fell silent.

On the snow tablecloth hunters see beautiful patterns of animal and bird tracks.

Here at the gnawed aspens, a hare hare set up at night; raising the black tip of its tail, hunting for birds and mice, an ermine ran. A beautiful chain winds along the forest edge the trace of an old fox. On the very edge of the field, trail after trail, the robber wolves passed. And across the wide planted road, blasting the snow with their hooves, the moose crossed...

Many large and small animals and birds live and feed in the snow-covered, hushed winter forest.

(K. Ushinsky)

At the edge

Quiet early morning in the winter forest. The dawn is calm.

Along the edge of the forest, at the edge of a snowy glade, an old red fox makes his way from a night hunt.

Softly crunches, snow crumbles under the fox's feet. Paw after paw traces follow the fox. He listens and looks at the foxes, whether a mouse squeaks under a tussock in a winter nest, whether a long-eared careless hare jumps out of a bush.

Here she stirred in the knots and, seeing the fox, then-oh-only - a peak! peak! squeaked the little titmouse. Here, whistling and fluttering, a flock of spruce crossbills flew over the edge, hastily scattered over the top of a spruce decorated with cones.

He hears and sees foxes, how a squirrel climbed a tree, and a snow cap fell from a thick swaying branch, crumbling into diamond dust.

He sees everything, hears everything, knows everything in the forest, the old, cunning fox.

(K. Ushinsky)

in the lair

In early winter, as soon as the snow falls, bears lie in the den.

Diligently and skillfully in the wilderness they prepare these winter lairs. Soft fragrant needles, bark of young fir trees, dry forest moss line their homes.

Warm and cozy in bear dens.

As soon as frost hits in the forest, bears fall asleep in their dens. And the more severe the frosts, the stronger the wind shakes the trees - the stronger, the more sound they sleep.

In late winter, tiny blind cubs will be born to she-bears.

Warmth for cubs in a snow-covered lair. They smack, suck milk, climb on the back of their mother, a huge, strong she-bear who has made a warm lair for them.

Only in a big thaw, when it starts to drip from the trees and the snow overhang falls from the branches with white caps, the bear wakes up. He wants to know well: has not spring come, has spring begun in the forest?

A bear will stick out of the den, look at winter forest- and again until spring on the side.

(K. Ushinsky)

What is a natural phenomenon?

Definition. Any change in nature is called a phenomenon of nature: the wind changed direction, the sun rose, hatched, from an egg, a chicken.

Nature is both living and non-living.

Weather phenomena of inanimate nature in winter.

Examples of weather changes: temperature drop, frost, snowfall, blizzard, blizzard, black ice, thaw.

Seasonal phenomena of nature.

All changes in nature associated with the change of seasons - seasons (spring, summer, autumn, winter) are called seasonal natural phenomena.

Examples of winter phenomena in inanimate nature.

Example: ice formed on the water, snow covered the ground, the sun does not heat, icicles and ice appeared.

Turning water into ice is seasonal phenomenon in inanimate nature.

Observed natural phenomena in inanimate nature, occurring around us:

Frost covers rivers and lakes with ice. Draws funny patterns on the windows. Bites nose and cheeks.

Snowflakes are falling from the sky. Snow covers the ground with a white blanket.

Snowstorms and blizzards cover the roads.

The sun is low above the earth and weakly warms.

It's cold outside, the days are short and the nights are long.

Comes New Year. The city is dressed in elegant garlands.

In the thaw, the snow melts and freezes, forming ice on the roads.

Large icicles grow on the roofs.

What phenomena of wildlife can be observed in winter

For example: bears hibernate, trees shed their leaves, people dressed in winter clothes, children went outside with sleds.

In winter, trees stand without leaves - this phenomenon is called seasonal.

Examples of changes that occur in winter in wildlife that we observe:

Flora, wildlife, resting in winter.

The bear sleeps in its lair and sucks its paw.

Trees and grasses sleep in the meadows, covered with a warm blanket - snow.

Animals are cold in winter, they wear beautiful and fluffy fur coats.

Hares change clothes - they change their gray coat to white.

People wear warm clothes: hats, fur coats, felt boots and mittens.

Children go sledding, skating, making a snowman and playing snowballs.

On New Year's Eve, children decorate the Christmas tree with toys and have fun.

On the holiday come to us, the Snow Maiden and Santa Claus.

In winter, birds - tits and bullfinches - fly to our feeders from the forest.

Birds and animals, in winter, starve. People feed them.

More winter stories:

Poetic miniatures about winter. Prishvin Mikhail Mikhailovich

Winter came. Great time of the year. Houses and trees are covered with snow, everywhere there are large snowdrifts, fluffy and soft, like cotton candy, and the eyes hurt from the crystal whiteness of the city.

From the very morning, some new smell, long forgotten, stings my nose. This is the smell of childhood, when we were dressed in ten blouses like cabbages, but we still managed to get wet to the skin. This is how winter comes for me.

It's almost evening, the most beautiful time of the day, when you have already finished all your vain business, and it's not time to sleep yet. You walk in the park and hide your frost-red nose in a warm scarf. The main thing is not to rush, because all the magic is revealed to the patient, who live in the moment and know the taste of real happiness. At the frantic pace of the city, we strive for a distant, unrealizable dream, but at the end of life, we have only the pursuit behind us. We want to earn a lot of money, get a promotion at work, or just work hard all day to survive. No one takes risks, does not try to change something and lives his life according to a pattern, without filling it with meaning.

That's why I live in the moment. That short walk through the winter forest, which is not poisoned by exhaust gases and not touched by the disastrous pace of the city. After school, it's nice to take a walk in the fresh air, cheer up and enjoy your favorite music. Green pines stand on the sides of the alley and wave their branches - giants in the light breeze.

You turn off the main road, walk along a narrow path, and freshly fallen snow crunches pleasantly under your feet. Cheeks sting from frost, and snowflakes slowly float in the air and sit on a hat, hair and eyelashes. The last rays of the warm gentle sun illuminate the sunset sky, clear and transparent, like a veil thrown over the face of a young girl. Trees stand in white fur coats, and only occasionally a sloppy squirrel touches a light cover of branches. And suddenly ... The forest is painted with all the colors of the rainbow, as if little gnomes scattered sapphires, rubies and diamonds throughout the forest. It seems that the walk has dragged on, and lanterns and garlands have already lit up all over the city.

You come home and run as fast as you can to the kitchen to put the kettle on to warm up faster. After all, the Russian winter, although beautiful, is frosty and terribly capricious. Sometimes you don’t see snow for three months, and sometimes it’s so cold that it gets to the very bones, you can hardly touch it with your feet, the wind covers your whole face with a cold flame, and your hair and scarf are covered with white frost.

But still, it is impossible not to love this time of year. Winter is beautiful with its inaccessible beauty, which is not easy to see. She is beautiful with her sharp temper, causticity and some slightly sad look. Winter, like a white-faced beauty, looks away, hides her face behind a veil of snowstorms and blizzards, and freezes her with her arrogance. But it is worth taking a closer look, waiting, saying the right word, and all the hidden beauty opens before you, and you see a snow-white pattern on a light cotton dress, sky-blue eyes, a slight blush on your cheeks and a gentle smile of a sweet young lady.

Here it is, the Russian winter. But everything was left on the street, and now you are already at home, in warm socks and with a plate of cookies. You pour hot fragrant tea and make yourself comfortable in a chair. Such a sweet smell emanates from this drink that it is impossible to resist, and it will captivate you, slowly spreading through the body, relaxing and giving strength for new achievements. At this time, you remember your day, everything good and bad that happened to you, put your thoughts and feelings in order. Enjoying every sip of tea for a long time, I don’t notice that it’s time to sit down for lessons ...

It's already eight o'clock. Snowflakes are quietly falling outside the window, and a blizzard is playing some old melody. It's time to watch a movie or read a few chapters of a new book. Nice to dive into lost World Doyle's Canon or Travel Through distant galaxy. You cry, laugh with the heroes, go through all the trials with them, worry about their falls, rejoice in their ups and new victories. With the last lines of the book, with the last minutes of the film, a slight wave of sadness covers you, because you are too in love with this story to part with it. And you sit in a slight daze and think about the words that have sunk into your soul, helped to change your thoughts.

And so you put the book on the shelf, turn off the movie and turn on the music. I will never stop talking about my eternal love for melodies, the words that I scroll through my head. And the evening is the time to completely dissolve in songs about love, life and happiness. Headphones in your ears, and you are there, on the sea, so blue that you can drown in these glare ... in the snowy Alps, overlooking the taiga, where there is a hunting lodge near a crystal lake ... Perhaps you are in a small film with the kidnapping of a princess and a handsome prince … It all depends on what you listen to. You can become a dancer, a singer or even an actor; and you have nothing to be ashamed of, because in this world only you and the music that lives in you, flows through your veins and gives impulses in your head, fills your body with movement. Everyone has different tastes, but there is not a single person who could live without music. Outside the window lies snow and the wind howls, but you are warm from the music that covers you like a blanket. A dark room where you dance, sing and feel happy.

It's time to plunge into the world of dreams so that tomorrow you can enjoy another pleasant evening, a winter evening that will bring new adventures in the history of your life, new feelings and emotions and unique moments of happiness and sadness that you will remember with tears in your eyes.

G. Skrebitsky “Four Artists. Winter"

Fields and hillocks turned white. thin ice the river was covered, subsided, fell asleep, as in a fairy tale.

Winter walks in the mountains, in the valleys, walks in large, soft felt boots, steps quietly, inaudibly. And she herself glances around - here and there she will correct her magical picture.

Here is a hillock in the middle of the field. The prankster wind took it and blew it away white hat. Need to wear it again. And over there, between the bushes, a gray hare is sneaking. It’s bad for him, the gray one: on the white snow, a predatory beast or bird will immediately notice him, you can’t hide from them anywhere.

“I’ll dress the oblique one in a white fur coat,” Zima decided, “then you won’t notice him in the snow soon.”

And Lisa Patrikeevna has no need to dress in white. She lives in a deep hole, hiding from enemies underground. She just needs to be prettier and warmer to dress up.

A wonderful fur coat was in store for her by Winter, just a miracle: all bright red, like a fire burns! The fox will lead to the side with a fluffy tail, as if sparks will scatter on the snow.

Winter looked into the forest: “I’ll decorate it: the sun will look and admire it.”

She dressed the pines and ate in heavy snow coats: she pulled snow caps down to the very eyebrows; I put on downy mittens on the branches. The forest heroes stand next to each other, stand decorously, calmly.

And below them, like children, various bushes and young trees took refuge. Winter also dressed them in white fur coats.

And on the mountain ash that grows at the very edge, she threw a white veil. It worked out so well. Clusters of berries hang at the ends of the branches, as if red earrings are visible from under a white coverlet.

Under the trees, Winter painted all the snow with a pattern of different footprints and footprints. Here and hare footprint: in front there are two large paw prints side by side, and behind - one after the other - two small ones; and fox - as if bred by a thread: paw to paw, so it stretches like a chain ...

The winter forest lives. Snow-covered fields and valleys live. The whole picture of the sorceress of Winter lives on. You can show it to the Sun.

The sun parted a gray cloud. He looks at the winter forest, at the valleys. And under her gaze, everything around becomes even more beautiful.

The snow flared up. Blue, red, green lights lit up on the ground, in the bushes, in the trees. And a breeze blew, shook off the frost from the branches, and in the air, too, sparkled, multi-colored lights danced.

The picture turned out great! Perhaps you can't draw better.

K. Paustovsky "Warm bread"

(excerpt)

On one of these warm gray days, the wounded horse knocked with his muzzle on the gate to Filka's grandmother. Grandmother was not at home, and Filka was sitting at the table and chewing a piece of bread, heavily sprinkled with salt.

Filka reluctantly got up and went out the gate. The horse shifted from foot to foot and reached for the bread. "Yah you! Devil!" Filka shouted and hit the horse on the lips with a backhand. The horse staggered back, shook his head, and Filka threw the bread far into the loose snow and shouted:

“You won’t get enough of you, Christ-lovers!” There is your bread! Go dig it with your face from under the snow! Go dig!

And after this malicious shout, those amazing things happened in Berezhki, about which people still talk, shaking their heads, because they themselves do not know whether it was or nothing like that happened.

A tear rolled down from the horse's eyes. The horse neighed plaintively, drawlingly, waved his tail, and immediately howled in the bare trees, in the hedges and chimneys, a piercing wind whistled, snow blew up, powdered Filka's throat. Filka rushed back into the house, but could not find the porch in any way - it was already shoaling all around and whipping into his eyes. Frozen straw flew from the roofs in the wind, birdhouses broke, torn shutters slammed. And columns of snow dust rose higher and higher from the surrounding fields, rushing to the village, rustling, spinning, overtaking each other.

Filka finally jumped into the hut, locked the door, said: “Come on!” - and listened. The blizzard roared wildly, but through its roar Filka heard a thin and short whistle - this is how a horse's tail whistles when an angry horse hits its sides with it.

The blizzard began to subside in the evening, and only then was Grandmother Filkin able to get to her hut from her neighbor. And by nightfall, the sky turned green as ice, the stars froze to the vault of heaven, and a prickly frost passed through the village. No one saw him, but everyone heard the creak of his boots on the hard snow, heard how the frost, mischievous, squeezed thick logs in the walls and they cracked and burst.

The grandmother, crying, told Filka that the wells had probably already frozen over and now imminent death awaited them. There is no water, everyone has run out of flour, and now the mill will not be able to work, because the river has frozen to the very bottom.

Filka also wept with fear when the mice began to run out of the underground and bury themselves under the stove in the straw, where there was still a little warmth. "Yah you! Damned!" he shouted at the mice, but the mice kept climbing out of the underground. Filka climbed onto the stove, covered himself with a sheepskin coat, shook all over and listened to the grandmother's lamentations.

“A hundred years ago such a bitter frost fell on our district,” said the grandmother. “He froze wells, killed birds, dried forests and gardens to the roots. Ten years after that, neither trees nor grasses bloomed. The seeds in the ground withered and disappeared. Our land was naked. Every animal ran around her - he was afraid of the desert.

- Why did that frost come? Filka asked.

“From human malice,” answered the grandmother. - An old soldier was walking through our village, asked for bread in the hut, and the owner, an evil peasant, sleepy, noisy, take it and give me only a stale crust. And he didn’t give it to his hands, but threw it on the floor and said: “Here you are! Chew!" “It’s impossible for me to lift bread from the floor,” the soldier says. “I have a piece of wood instead of a leg.” “Where did you put your leg?” the man asks. “I lost my leg in the Balkan mountains in the Turkish battle,” the soldier replies. "Nothing. If you're really hungry, you'll get up,' the peasant laughed. “There are no valets for you here.” The soldier groaned, contrived, lifted the crust and saw - this is not bread, but one green mold. One poison! Then the soldier went out into the yard, whistled - and at once a blizzard broke out, a blizzard, the storm swirled the village, the roofs were torn off, and then a severe frost struck. And the man died.

- Why did he die? Filka asked hoarsely.

“From the cooling of the heart,” the grandmother answered, paused and added: “To know, and now a bad person, an offender, has wound up in Berezhki, and has done an evil deed. That's why it's cold.

"What are you going to do now, grandma?" Filka asked from under his sheepskin coat. - Is it really to die?

Why die? Need to hope.

- For what?

- That the bad man will correct his villainy.

- How to fix it? asked Filka, sobbing.

“But Pankrat knows about it, miller. He is a smart old man, a scientist. You need to ask him. Can you really run to the mill in such a cold? The bleeding will stop immediately.

- Come on, Pankrat! Filka said and fell silent.

At night he climbed down from the stove. Grandma was sleeping on the bench. Outside the windows, the air was blue, thick, terrible.

IN clear skies the moon stood above the osokors, adorned like a bride with pink crowns.

Filka wrapped his sheepskin coat around him, jumped out into the street and ran to the mill. The snow sang underfoot, as if an artel of merry sawyers sawed at the root birch grove over the river. It seemed that the air was frozen and between the earth and the moon there was only one void - burning and so clear that if it lifted a speck of dust a kilometer from the earth, then it would be visible and it would glow and twinkle like a small star.

The black willows near the mill dam turned gray from the cold. Their branches gleamed like glass. The air pricked Filka's chest. He could no longer run, but walked heavily, raking the snow with his felt boots.

Filka knocked on the window of Pankrat's hut. Immediately in the barn behind the hut, a wounded horse neighed and beat with a hoof. Filka groaned, squatted down in fear, hid. Pankrat opened the door, grabbed Filka by the collar and dragged him into the hut.

Sit down by the stove, he said. Tell me before you freeze.

Filka, crying, told Pankrat how he offended the wounded horse and how frost fell on the Village because of this.

- Yes, - Pankrat sighed, - your business is bad! It turns out that everyone is lost because of you. Why hurt the horse? For what? You stupid citizen!

Filka sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

- Stop crying! Pankrat said sternly. - You are all masters of roaring. A little naughty - now in a roar. But I just don't see the point in that. My mill stands as if sealed with frost forever, but there is no flour, and no water, and we don’t know what to come up with.

- What should I do now, grandfather Pankrat? Filka asked.

— Invent salvation from the cold. Then the people will not be your fault. And in front of a wounded horse, too. You will be a pure person, cheerful. Everyone will pat you on the back and forgive you. It's clear?

V. Bianchi "Snow Book"

They wandered, inherited the animals in the snow. You won't immediately understand what happened.

To the left, under a bush, a hare trail begins -

From the hind legs, the track is elongated, long; from the front - round, small. A hare trail across the field. On one side of it is another track, a larger one; in the snow from the claws of the hole - a fox trace. And on the other side of the hare's footprint there is another footprint: also fox, only leading back.

The hare gave a circle around the field; fox too. Hare aside - fox behind him. Both tracks end in the middle of the field.

But aside - again a hare trail. It disappears, it goes on...

It goes, goes, goes - and suddenly it broke off - as if it had gone underground! And where it disappeared, the snow was crushed there and on the sides, as if someone had smeared their fingers.

Where did the fox go?

Where did the rabbit go?

Let's take a look at warehouses.

Worth a bush. The bark has been stripped from it. Trampled under a bush, traced. Hare tracks. Here the hare was fattening: it gnawed the bark from the bush. It will stand on its hind legs, tear off a piece with its teeth, chew it, step over with its paws, and tear off another piece next to it. I ate and wanted to sleep. I went looking for a place to hide.

And here is a fox footprint, next to a hare footprint. It was like this: the hare went to sleep. An hour passes, another. The fox is walking through the field. Look, a hare footprint in the snow! Fox n ° s to the ground. I sniffed - the trail is fresh!

She ran after the trail.

The fox is cunning, and the hare is not simple: he knew how to confuse his trail. He galloped, galloped across the field, turned around, circled a large loop, crossed his own trail - and to the side.

The trail is still even, unhurried: the hare walked calmly, he did not smell trouble behind him.

The fox ran, ran - he sees: there is a fresh track across the track. I didn’t realize that the hare made a loop.

Turned sideways - on a fresh trail; runs, runs - and became: the trail broke off! Where to now?

And the matter is simple: this is a new hare trick - a deuce.

The hare made a loop, crossed its trail, walked a little forward, and then turned around - and back along its trail.

He walked carefully, paw to paw.

The fox stood, stood - and back.

She came to the crossroads again.

Followed the whole loop.

She walks, walks, sees - the hare deceived her, the trail does not lead anywhere!

She snorted and went into the woods to do her business.

And it was like this: the hare made a deuce - went back along its trail.

He did not reach the loop - and waved through the snowdrift - to the side.

He jumped over a bush and lay down under a pile of brushwood.

Here he lay while the fox searched for him on the trail.

And when the fox is gone, how he will burst out from under the brushwood - and into the thicket!

Wide jumps - paws to paws: a ton trail.

Rushing without looking back. Stump on the road. Hare past. And on the stump ... And on the stump sat a big owl.

I saw a hare, took off, and so it lays behind it. Caught and tsap in the back with all the claws!

The hare poked into the snow, and the owl settled down, beats its wings in the snow, tears it off the ground.

Where the hare fell, there the snow was crushed. Where the eagle owl flapped its wings, there are signs in the snow from feathers, as if from fingers.

N. Sladkov "Bureau of Forest Services"

Cold February has come to the forest. He piled snowdrifts on the bushes, covered the trees with frost. And the sun, although it shines, does not warm.

Ferret says:

- Save yourself as much as you can!

And Magpie chirps:

"Every man for himself again?" Alone again? No to us together against a common misfortune! And so everyone says about us that we only peck and squabble in the forest. It's even embarrassing...

Here the Hare got involved:

- That's right Magpie chirps. There is safety in numbers. I propose to create a Bureau of Forest Services. I, for example, can help partridges. Every day I break the snow on winter trees to the ground, let them peck seeds and greens after me - I don’t feel sorry. Write me, Soroka, to the Bureau at number one!

- There is a smart head in our forest! Magpie rejoiced. - Who is next?

- We're next! cried the crossbills. - We peel the cones on the trees, drop half the cones whole down. Use it, voles and mice, it's not a pity!

“A hare is a digger, crossbills are throwers,” Magpie wrote.

- Who is next?

“Write us down,” grumbled the beavers from their hut. - We piled so many aspens in the fall - enough for everyone. Come to us, moose, roe deer, hares, juicy aspen bark and branches to gnaw!

And it's gone, and it's gone!

Woodpeckers offer their hollows for the night, crows invite to carrion, crows promise to show the landfill. Magpie barely manages to write down.

The wolf also choked on the noise. He twirled his ears, looked up with his eyes and said:

Sign me up for the Bureau!

Magpie almost fell from the tree:

- You, Volka, in the Bureau of Services? What do you want to do in it?

“I will serve as a watchman,” Wolf replies.

Who can you guard?

I can take care of everyone! Hares, moose and roe deer near aspens, partridges on greenery, beavers in huts. I am an experienced caretaker. Sheep guarded in the sheepfold, chickens in the chicken coop ...

- You are a robber from the forest road, not a watchman! Magpie screamed. - Pass, rogue, by! We know you. It’s me, Magpie, I’ll guard everyone in the forest from you: as soon as I see it, I’ll raise a cry! I’ll write down not you, but myself as a watchman in the Bureau: “Magpie is a watchman.” What am I, worse than others, or what?

So the bird-animals live in the forest. It happens, of course, that they live in such a way that only fluff and feathers fly. But sometimes they help each other out.

Anything can happen in the forest.

N. Sladkov "Everything has its time"

Tired of winter. That would be summer now!

“Hey, Waxwing, would you be happy about summer?”

“You ask more,” the waxwing replies. - I'm surviving from mountain ash to viburnum, sore on my tongue!

And Soroka is already asking Kosacha. Kosach also complains:

- I sleep in the snow, for lunch there is only birch porridge! Eyebrows are red - froze!

Magpie knocks on the Bear: how, they say, do you winter the winter?

- So-so! Misha grumbles. - From side to side. I lie on my right side - raspberries seem to me, on my left - linden honey.

- It's clear! - Magpie chirps. Everyone is sick of winter! So that you, winter, failed!

And the winter is over...

We didn’t have time to gasp - summer is around! Warmth, flowers, leaves. Have fun, forest people!

And the people of the forest spun ...

- I'm confused about something, Magpie! - The whistler says. What position have you put me in? I rushed to you from the north along the mountain ash, and you have only leaves. On the other hand, I should be in the north in the summer, and I'm stuck here! Head spin. And there is nothing...

- She did Forty things! Kosach hisses angrily. — What nonsense? Where did the spring go? In the spring I sing songs and dance. The most fun time! And in the summer only shedding, losing feathers. What nonsense?

- So you yourself dreamed of summer ?! cried Magpie.

— You never know! The bear is talking. - We dreamed of summer with lime honey and raspberries. And where are they if you jumped over the spring? Neither raspberries nor lindens had time to bloom - therefore, there will be no raspberries or linden honey! Turn your tail, I'll pluck it for you now!

Oh, how angry Magpie! She swerved, jumped, flew up to the Christmas tree and shouted:

— Fail you together with the summer! - And the unexpected summer failed. And winter is in the forest again. Again the waxwing pecks the mountain ash. Kosach sleeps in the snow. And the Bear is in the den. They all growl a little. But they endure. Waiting for the real spring.

E. Nosov "Thirty grains"

At night, snow fell on the wet trees, bent the branches with its loose damp weight, and then it was seized by frost, and the snow now held on to the branches tightly, like candied cotton.

A titmouse flew in, tried to pick open the frost. But the snow was hard, and she looked around anxiously, as if asking: “What should I do now?”

I opened the window, put a ruler on both crossbars of the double frames, fastened it with buttons and placed hemp seeds through every centimeter. The first seed was in the garden, seed number thirty was in my room.

Titmouse saw everything, but for a long time did not dare to fly to the window. Finally, she grabbed the first linnet and carried it to the branch. She pecked at the hard shell and plucked out the core.

Everything went well. Then the titmouse seized the moment and picked up seed number two...

I sat at the table, worked and from time to time looked at the titmouse. And she, still shy and anxiously looking into the depths of the window, centimeter by centimeter approached along the ruler, on which her fate was measured.

— May I peck one more grain? One and only?

And the titmouse, frightened by the noise of its own wings, flew away with the linnet to the tree.

- Well, please, one more. OK?

Finally, the last grain remained. It was at the very tip of the line. The seed seemed so far away, and it was so scary to follow it!

Titmouse, crouching and alerting her wings, crept to the very end of the line and ended up in my room. With fearful curiosity she peered into the unknown world. She was especially struck by the living green flowers and quite summer warmth, which fanned the chilled paws.

- Do you live here?

Why isn't there snow here?

Instead of answering, I turned the switch. A light bulb blazed brightly from the ceiling.

Where did you get a piece of the sun? And what's that?

- This? Books.

- What are books?

“They taught me how to light this sun, how to plant these flowers and those trees you jump on, and much more. And they also taught you how to pour hemp seeds for you.

- This is very good. And you're not scary at all. Who are you?

- I am human.

— What is a Man?

It was very difficult to explain this to the stupid little titmouse.

- See the thread? She is tied to the window ...

The titmouse looked around frightened.

- Don't be afraid. I won't do it. This is what we call Man.

“Can I eat this last grain?”

- Yes, sure! I want you to fly to me every day. You will visit me and I will work. It helps the Human to work well. Agree?

- Agree. What is work?

You see, this is such a duty of every person. You can't do without it. All people must do something. This is how they help each other.

- How do you help people?

— I want to write a book. Such a book that everyone who reads it would put thirty hemp seeds on his window ...

But the titmouse doesn't seem to listen to me at all. Grasping the seed with her paws, she slowly pecks it at the tip of the ruler.

Y. Koval "Snow Rain"

I looked out the window to find out what the weather was like, and I didn’t understand what was there on the street - snow or rain?

The air was cloudy, gray, and something incomprehensible flew from the sky to the ground.

Raindrops and sluggish snowflakes were also visible.

- Snowfall. Again snow.

How long, how painfully the winter got up this year. Snow will fall - and immediately it will be fun. You get a sled - and go up the hill, ride. In the meantime, you are sledding down the mountain, the snow has already melted, you plow the ground with your nose.

— What are the times? What are the winters? Orekhyevna sighed. There will never be a real winter now.

"I'm tired of the snow," I said. - We need snow.

Somehow at the end of December, at night, I went out into the street. All the winter stars and constellations were in front of me. And the heavenly hunter Orion, and the Dogs - Big and Small - and the Charioteer, and Gemini.

- What is being done? I turned to Orion. - Snowfall.

And then Orion shook his shoulder, and from his shoulder a star flew to the ground, followed by another, a third. The real December meteor shower has begun.

The stars soon died down, died out, and from somewhere in the black depths of the night snowflakes appeared. Starfall turned into snowfall.

The snow came down like a shaft, and the whole village - houses and sheds - suddenly turned into a fabulous city.

And it immediately became clear to me that this snow had finally and permanently fallen and would lie as long as Orion was visible in the sky. That means until spring.

Y. Koval "Bullfinches and cats"

Late autumn, with the first powder came to us from northern forests bullfinches.

Plump and ruddy, they sat on the apple trees, as if instead of fallen apples.

And our cats are already here. They also climbed the apple trees and settled on the lower branches. Say, sit down with us, bullfinches, we are also like apples.

Bullfinches have not seen cats for a whole year, but they are thinking. After all, cats have a tail, and apples have a tail.

How good bullfinches are, and especially snow maidens. Their breasts are not as fiery as those of the bullfinch owner, but tender - pale yellow.

Bullfinches fly away, snowmaidens fly away.

And the cats stay on the apple tree.

They lie on the branches and wag their apple-like tails.

S. Kozlov "We will come and breathe"

There has been no sun for several days now. The forest was empty and quiet. Even the crows did not fly, that was the empty forest.

- Well, that's it, get ready for winter, - said the Bear cub.

- Where are the birds? - asked the Hedgehog.

- Getting ready. Warm up nests.

- Where is Bella?

- He lays out the hollow with dry moss.

- And the Hare?

— Sitting in a hole, breathing. Wants to breathe for the whole winter.

“That’s stupid,” smiled the Hedgehog.

- I told him: you won’t breathe before winter.

“I’ll breathe,” he says. I will breathe and breathe.

- Go to him, maybe we can help.

And they went to the Hare.

The hare hole was on the third side of the mountain. On the one hand - the house of the Hedgehog, on the other - the house of the Bear cub, and on the third - the hole of the Hare.

“Here,” said Little Bear. - Here. Hey Bunny! he shouted.

“Ah,” came a dull voice from the hole.

- What are you doing there? - asked the Hedgehog.

- Did you breathe a lot?

- Not yet. Half.

- Do you want us to breathe from above? asked Little Bear.

“It won’t work,” came from the hole. - I have a door.

“And you make a crack,” said the Hedgehog.

- Open a little, and we will breathe, - said the Bear.

- Boo-boo-boo, - came from the hole.

“Now,” said the Hare. - Well, breathe! The Hedgehog and the Bear cub lay down head to head and began to breathe.

- Ha! .. Ha! .. - the Hedgehog breathed.

“Ha-ah! .. Ha-ah! ..” the Little Bear breathed.

- Well, how? shouted the Hedgehog.

"It's getting warmer," said the Hare. - Breathe.

- And now? - after a minute asked the Bear cub.

“There is nothing to breathe,” said the Hare.

- Come join us! shouted the Hedgehog.

- Close the door and get out!

The hare slammed the door and climbed out.

- Well, how?

“Like in a bathhouse,” said the Hare.

“You see, the three of us are better,” said Little Bear.

“Now we will come to you all winter and breathe,” said the Hedgehog.

- And if you freeze, come to me, - said the Bear cub.

“Or to me,” said the Hedgehog.

“Thank you,” said the Hare. - I'll definitely come. Just don't come to me, okay?

- But why?..

“Traces,” said the Hare. - Stomp, and then someone will definitely eat me.

Everything is possible...
Vika was going home from the institute, it was a difficult day, the couples were boring, the time dragged on for a long time, and the exams were coming soon. In short, the day was not successful, “but nevertheless it ended,” Vika thought and smiled
grandmothers sitting near the entrance “like a night watch” flashed through her head, the girl smiled again and entered the entrance.
“it’s cool today,” Andrey thought as he left the institute, the couples took a drag today, so he was obviously late for dinner, “I’ll have to go to the store, it seems there was one nearby for 24 hours ...” “hmm ... it started to snow.”
None of them knew that this first snow would be their beginning...
Having warmed up after a warm bath, Vika settled down in an easy chair and took a laptop “I haven’t visited my page for a long time, I wonder if anyone wrote to me?” while she was thinking, the computer turned on, the girl entered only two letters VK into the search line, the search results immediately appeared. Vika went to her page “hmm .... messages 2, groups 0, applications 93, friends 24, I wonder who it is?” mostly classmates from the institute and friends from the club were added as friends. Scrolling through the entire list and adding everyone who is needed and who is not needed, she noticed another application “who is this?” she went to Andrey’s page, that was the name of this young man “hmm .... it turns out that we are from one institute, only he turns out from the third year, but a year older, so let's see the information: hometown Krasnodar, date of birth January 27, 1992, well, yes a year older, dachshund and now let's see the photo, but the boy is so cute," the girl said with a smile and clicked on my page while she climbed on his page, the number of messages increased "let's get started." Vika opened all the dialogues, the first message was from Andrey “hello))) I already thought that you wouldn’t want to come here at all, the notes came in)” she was clearly surprised but gathered herself and answered “hello) yes, it just takes a lot of time to study and to social. There is almost no network, that's why I rarely go ... ".
“What difference does it make to him if I come in or not?! And in general, how does he know me? ... "but then the girl's thoughts were interrupted by soft, sneaking steps, at first Vika was frightened, as she was sitting in a dark room completely alone, but after listening more carefully, she realized who her night guest was" Marquis, kitty-kitty-kitty " she called her kitten, the steps accelerated, “well, you scared me,” a dark fluffy lump approached the chair and jumped into the hands of the hostess. Returning from the kitchen with hot tea and treats for the Marquis, Vika again sat down at the laptop with one new message “how is your day?)” Without hesitation, she answered “to be honest, not very much, but how are you?”
SMS with the answer came literally in half a minute “how can you write so quickly from the phone?” flashed through my head “why not really? I’m fine, only the last lecture dragged on, but I’m just going home here, the snow is falling so beautifully, and I don’t feel like going home at all) ”“ Snow? Not really, because the day dragged on too long.” “Yes, snow, for the first time this year, but with such large flakes)))” “You know, my mood has risen sharply)))”
"Why?"
“I love it when it snows, it becomes so beautiful) I am now sitting on the windowsill and looking, honestly, even my heart beats faster)))”
“So you are our Snow Maiden) and where do you live?”)
"near the park, why?"
“well, I’m just in the park now, can you get out? You don’t want to go home anyway, and you love this kind of weather.”
“a tempting offer) but I can see the snow tomorrow)”
"What if he doesn't wake up tomorrow?"
"Maybe I'm scared"
" what?"
“Firstly: I don’t know you, what if you are some kind of villain, who knows you? Second: it's already night"
“hmm… reasonable, but I really invite you to just take a walk, will you come?”
"You're talking to the park"
" yes"
"Well, well persuaded) where shall we meet?")
"I'll be waiting for you at the tree"
"Okay, I'll be there soon"
" I am waiting)"
Vika turned off the computer and began to get ready to put on a jinzi sweater and jacket, “why am I doing this?” she herself did not understand why she was going there, meeting with a completely unfamiliar guy. But in the end, she found an excuse for her act “I just haven’t seen snow for a long time, but I’m definitely going there to take a walk under the snow,” but still she had a good feeling about this walk.
After 20 minutes, the girl came to the meeting point, went around the Christmas tree several times and frowned, “well, where is he?”
"Are you looking for me?" came a voice from behind.
Vika jumped in fright, but turning around she calmed down when she saw Andrei holding two glasses of hot coffee in his hands.
"yes to you" - the girl smiled
“I just thought that it’s cold here and it wouldn’t be bad to warm up, here on,” with these words, he handed her a glass of hot drink
“Thank you,” the girl said in surprise.
“Well, do I still seem like a maniac to you?” Andrey asked with a smile.
“Actually, I went to look at the snow,” Vika answered, blushing.
"well, let's look at the snow"
they silently stood and looked at the flakes of snow falling on the tree decorated before the holidays. About half an hour passed, that's how much time they stood and smiled at the snow, but then the girl turned and looked at her companion and immediately burst out laughing
“What are you doing?” the young man asked, surprised by such an unexpected laugh.
“You have such a funny cap on your head,” the girl said through laughter.
Andrei touched his head and realized that because of the falling snow, a pile of snow had formed on his head, similar to a gnome's hat.
“There’s nothing funny, it’s quite natural that we stood for half an hour without moving,” Andrey said, suddenly blushing, but instead of stopping laughing, Vika took a camera out of her pocket and photographed it until he understood something.
"Did you take a picture of me?"
"yes" the girl replied, still smiling
"well, you asked for it"
" for what?" but then she saw how Andrei takes the snow in his hands and makes a snowball out of it
“So only without stupidity,” Vika said, trying to save her skin, but it was too late, since the first snowball was already flying in her direction
" Ah well?!"
"Yes," the guy replied with a smile.
"Well, now I'm serious"
"So what?"
“But that’s what,” with these words, the girl threw a snowball at the guy and didn’t miss, which is why after that she had to run away from him for a long time.
They walked for about an hour, after which Andrey saw Vika home and went to his own home.
The next day, when they saw each other at the institute, they could not help laughing
“Well, shall we repeat our walk somehow?” Andrey asked smiling
“Only under one condition,” Vika answered smiling
"Which one?" asked the boy in surprise.
"if it snows"...
Friends, I am writing for the first time, so I will be glad to all comments and criticism;)

Aksakov S.T.

In 1813, from the very Nikolin day (Nikolin day - religious holiday, who coped on December 6, according to Art. style) crackling December frosts were established, especially from the winter turns, when, according to popular expression, the sun went to summer, and winter to frost. The cold grew every day, and on December 29, the mercury froze and sank into a glass ball.

The bird froze on the fly and fell to the ground already stiff. The water thrown up from the glass returned in icy splashes and icicles, but there was very little snow, only an inch, and the bare ground froze three-quarters of an arshin.

Burying poles for the construction of the Riga barn, the peasants said that they would not remember when the ground would freeze so deeply, and hoped for a rich harvest of winter crops next year.

The air was dry, thin, burning, piercing, and many people fell ill from severe colds and inflammations; the sun rose and lay down with fiery ears, and the moon walked across the sky, accompanied by cruciform rays; the wind had fallen completely, and whole heaps of bread remained unwinned, so that there was nowhere to go with them.

With difficulty they pierced ice-holes in the pond with picks and axes; the ice was more than a arshin thick, and when they reached the water, it, compressed by a heavy, icy crust, beat like from a fountain, and then it only calmed down when it flooded the hole wide, so that to clean it it was necessary to pave the footbridges ...

... the view was magnificent winter nature. Frost squeezed moisture out of tree branches and trunks, and bushes and trees, even reeds and tall grasses, were covered with brilliant hoarfrost, along which the sun's rays harmlessly glided, showering them only with the cold brilliance of diamond fires.

Red, clear and quiet were the short winter days, like two drops of water one to the other, and somehow sadly, restlessly became in the soul, and the people became depressed.

Diseases, windlessness, lack of snow, and ahead of fodder for livestock. How not to get discouraged here? Everyone prayed for snow, as in summer for rain, and then, finally, pigtails went across the sky, the frost began to surrender, the clarity of the blue sky faded, pulled West wind, and a plump cloud, imperceptibly advancing, clouded the horizon from all sides.

As if having done its job, the wind died down again, and the blessed snow began to fall directly, slowly, in large patches to the ground.

The peasants joyfully looked at the fluffy snowflakes fluttering in the air, which, at first fluttering and spinning, fell to the ground.

The snow began to fall from the village early dinner, it fell incessantly, thicker and stronger from hour to hour.

I have always loved to watch the silent fall or fall of snow. In order to fully enjoy this picture, I went out into the field, and a wonderful sight presented itself to my eyes: all the boundless space around me presented the appearance of a snowy stream, as if the heavens had opened up, scattered with snow down and filled the whole air with movement and amazing silence.

The long winter twilight was setting in; falling snow began to cover all objects and clothed the earth with white darkness ...

I returned home, but not to a stuffy room, but to the garden, and with pleasure walked along the paths, showered with snow flakes. Lights lit up in peasant huts, and pale rays lay across the street; objects mingled, drowned in the darkened air.

I entered the house, but even there I stood for a long time at the window, stood until it was no longer possible to distinguish the falling snowflakes ...

“What powder will be tomorrow! I thought. - If the snow stops falling by morning, where is the malik (Malik is a hare footprint in the snow) - there is the hare ... ”And hunting worries and dreams took possession of my imagination. I especially liked to follow the Rusaks, of whom there were many in the mountains and ravines, near the grain peasant humens.

In the evening I prepared all the hunting supplies and shells; several times he ran out to see if it was snowing, and, making sure that it was still falling, just as hard and quietly, just as evenly spreading the ground, went to bed with pleasant hopes.

The winter night is long, and especially in the village, where they go to bed early: you will lie on your sides, waiting for the white day. I always woke up two hours before dawn and loved to meet the winter dawn without a candle. That day I woke up even earlier and now went to find out what was going on in the yard.

There was complete silence outside. The air was soft, and despite the twelve-degree frost, I felt warm. Snow clouds rolled in, and only occasionally some belated snowflakes fell on my face.

In the village, life has long woken up; in all the huts lights shone and stoves were heated, and on the threshing floors, by the light of flaming straw, bread was threshed. The rumble of speeches and the sound of flails from nearby barns reached my ears.

I stared, listened, and did not soon return to my warm room. I sat down opposite the window to the east and waited for the light; for a long time it was impossible to notice any change. Finally, a peculiar whiteness appeared in the windows, the tiled stove turned white, and a bookcase with books, which until then could not be distinguished, appeared against the wall.

In another room, the door to which was open, the stove was already heating. Buzzing and crackling and slapping the shutter, it illuminated the door and half of the upper room with some kind of cheerful, joyful and hospitable light.

But the white day came into its own, and the lighting from the heating stove gradually disappeared. How good, how sweet it was to the soul! Calm, quiet and light! Some kind of vague, full of bliss, warm dreams filled the soul ...

An excerpt from the essay "Buran" 1856

Aksakov S.T.

A snowy white cloud, huge as the sky, covered the entire horizon, and the last light of the red, burnt evening dawn was quickly covered with a thick veil. Suddenly the night came ... the storm came with all its fury, with all its horrors. The desert wind blew up in the open, blew up the snowy steppes like swan fluff, threw them up to the sky ... Everything was dressed in white darkness, impenetrable, like the darkness of the darkest autumn night! Everything merged, everything mixed up: the earth, the air, the sky turned into an abyss of boiling snowy dust, which blinded the eyes, occupied the breath, roared, whistled, howled, moaned, beat, ruffled, twirled from all sides, from above and below, twisted around like a kite and strangled everything he came across.

The heart drops in the most intimidating person, the blood freezes, stops from fear, and not from cold, because the cold during snowstorms is significantly reduced. So terrible is the sight of the disturbance of the winter northern nature. A person loses his memory, presence of mind, goes crazy ... and this is the reason for the death of many unfortunate victims.

For a long time our convoy dragged with its twenty-pound wagons. The road was drifting, the horses stumbled incessantly. Most of the people walked, stuck knee-deep in the snow; finally, everyone was exhausted; many horses have arrived. The old man saw this, and although his sternness, which was the most difficult of all, for he was the first to pave the trail, still cheerfully pulled out his legs, the old man stopped the convoy. “Friends,” he said, calling all the peasants to him, “there is nothing to do. We must surrender to the will of God; have to spend the night here. Let's make wagons and unharnessed horses together, in a circle. We will tie the shafts and raise them up, wrap them in felt mats, sit under them, as if under a hut, and we will begin to wait for the light of God and good people. Maybe we won’t all freeze!”

The advice was strange and terrible; but it contained the only means of salvation. Unfortunately, there were young, inexperienced people in the convoy. One of them, whose horse stuck less than the others, did not want to obey the old man. “Come on, grandpa! - he said. - Serko something you have become, so are we to die with you? you've already lived in the world, it's all the same to you; but we still want to live. Seven versts to the umet, there will be no more. Let's go guys! Let grandfather stay with those whose horses have completely become. Tomorrow, God willing, we'll be alive, we'll come back here and dig them up." In vain did the old man speak, in vain did he prove that he was weary less than the others; In vain did Petrovich and two more of the peasants support him: the six others on twelve carts set off further.

The storm raged from hour to hour. It raged all night and all the next day, so there was no ride. Deep ravines turned into high mounds... Finally, the excitement of the snowy ocean began to subside little by little, which continues even then, when the sky is already shining with a cloudless blue. Another night passed. The violent wind died down, the snows subsided. The steppes presented the appearance of a stormy sea, suddenly frozen over ... The sun rolled out into a clear sky; its rays played on the wavy snows. The wagon trains that had waited out the storm and all sorts of passers-by set off.