Spring is the first season of the year in our country. Spring lasts from March to May. The weather is very comfortable, but it changes greatly.
Sometimes many things become active in spring. Trees turn green. People like to go out and have fun.
In addition, farmers are very busy in spring because it is time for them to grow crops. Everyone is preparing for the year.
One of the greatest things about nature is the change of seasons. Each season has its own beauty, and each season has a ring of life, death and Rebirth: I like spring, when a cold winter will be born again, it begins to cycle. March has come.
After February, the sun becomes warm, the wind becomes soft, the frozen soil begins to melt, and the bulbs burning underground In the soft soil, the tender buds come out, and soon the flowers are in full bloom, and the leaves grow on the trees again. The birds came back from their winter homes in the South and told us that spring was coming, but the grass of spring came out of the soil and found the bees flying around. The children in search of spring ran to the garden, trying to incite spring to play together.
Oh, they are all people looking for spring - in fact, spring is on the children's smiling faces, in their happy laughter, or it can be said that spring is here, in our streets, in our yards, in the fields, in factories, it is brought by the hard work of farmers and workers and the power of nature, and spring is the insect like sun Light, soft wind, happy birds, green grass, leaves, safflower, listen, spring is around us.
In some years, spring is not always the same. April leaps by, and Virginia's hills are filled with all the stages, the chorus of tulips, the vines of forsythia, the splendor of plum blossoms. In other years, the trees grow leaves overnight.
The toes of spring stop and are conquered by shyness, just like my grandson peeping at the door, avoiding sight, in the corridor Giggle, I know you're there. I cry in. April quietly inserts the tender green buds of Cornus officinalis into our arms.
The perfect cup is inlaid with yellow brown stripes. Dozens of clustered seeds examine the flower buds in awe: where were those seeds a month ago? The apple shows the ivory rags to the bonnet, all the rosy sleeping things wake up - primrose, little Iris, blue oleander - the warmth of the earth - you can smell it, feel it, in your hand, the crumbling April, if you like, look at the anemone, or the pea fields, or the stubborn weeds, with its shoulders on the streets of the city OK, this is what it used to be. Now it is and will be.
The world has no end. In the tranquility of spring reappearance, who can fear the distant autumn.