spring [Theme] Page 2

Spring is not just a change of seasons. This is a revolution within, an opportunity to look at the world in a new way, to see something wonderful in the ordinary.

Of people.

And the songs are husks.

This morning I noticed for the first time that the birds were singing again. We've arrived, that is! There is a pleasant sipping in my soul, as if some long forgotten strings have been touched. I love this time when the world has not yet let go of February, but spring is already very close. You feel it along with the morning light, timidly peeking through the window just after seven, it is in the strawberry-pink evening clouds with whipped cream, in the hatching fragile crocuses. And I want to cry for some reason, but out of happiness. Happy to be alive.

You can already feel the approach of another season in everything, in the soft clouds floating like white feathers across the azure sky, in the smell of the awakening earth with notes of watermelon rinds. My soul is so quiet and a little aching. It is spring?

Smile,

Spring, she is like that - a windy, delicate nature, dreamy, the main thing is to keep up with her...

February. It's almost spring. On the threshold. Expectations. Hopes. Dreams... everything is resurrected... It’s still cold. Only snowdrops sway their white transparent bells with the tenderness of their buds. And at home there is a garden. Wild thirst for color, light. Colors. The first fresh wind... Until then. Still hot sea buckthorn tea. It has color...

... Before all the prickly snowflakes had time to fly away to the north, there was a subtle smell of tulips in the air. A barely perceptible smell, like spring itself. You feel it with some kind of subconscious, sixth sense, but you don’t yet understand why exactly it appeared to you. In watercolor clouds with a thin thread of pink sunset or in fragile grass breaking through the snow. So it is with love. He comes unnoticed, on tiptoe, barely touching your still sleeping eyes, kisses your eyelashes, touches your warm cheek with a stripe from your previous sleep, smoothes it out. Gently, like a butterfly, touches your lips, afraid to wake you up or seem pushy. Braids your most cherished dreams into your braids, puts fresh flowers of hope in your pockets. And you smile in your sleep, joyful and calm, trusting this new feeling. Everything that happened before, all your disappointments, fears, doubts will melt like this February snow and flow away with the first streams. Do you hear, baby, Spring-love is knocking on your door. Come on, girl, go ahead and open it. You, like no one else, deserve your happiness!

- Yes, I am sure!

The smell of approaching spring is unbearable, so sweet that you just want to scoop it up with a spoon, like viscous honey. And even though her delicate, marshmallow-airy silk skirts, her light shawl strewn entirely with tremulous primroses and joyful green foliage fluttering from the slightest breath of breeze, her golden, soft curls, rosy cheeks, kind blue eyes are not yet visible... but her heart You can’t lie, I know she’s very close, perhaps so close that very soon, when you open the window, you will be very surprised. She will be there. My spring...

Spring is not the beginning of March and not even the warmth of the sun always flowing from the heavens; spring is a state of mind, even if it is February outside the window.

We had a thaw and it smelled like spring, but now it’s bitterly cold again and it smells like God knows what.

Under this new sun and new foliage.