When the smell of melted snow appeared in the air, and people in the streets began to smile more often, when my sister, for the first time this year, put on her favorite red jacket, and our red cat finally stopped sleeping all day and habitually settled on the windowsill, a miracle happened. In the garden under the apple tree, I saw a small white flower burst out from under the spring friable snow – the snowdrop.
He looked like a tulip or a narcissus, only much smaller and more tender. Thin leaves looked like sharp arrows. Probably, it was thanks to them that the flower managed to break through the obstacles and appear in the light. The milk-white bud held on a stem-wire and looked down, as if a little sad. When the sun was shining brightly, our snowdrop gullually opened its snow-white petals, showing a calyx-core with a greenish fringe. And in the evenings – closed, and this seemed even more sad and defenseless.
Why did you come here among the snow and ice,
a brave flower? How are you not afraid of the night frosts and the cold wind? Can you survive here alone?
But the snowdrop, of course, did not answer. Only a slight trembling in the wind his graceful drooping head. And the next day, after returning from school, I discovered that my flower is no longer alone. The snow under the apple-tree melted a little, and from under it there appeared some more tender green shoots, crowned with white buds. They made their way through the frozen ground and snow, in order to announce the fast arrival of the sunny days.
Spring has not yet fully entered into its rights, but only beckoned us from afar, promising open wide windows, bicycles and classics in the courtyard. And then again disappeared somewhere, leaving the house and the garden in the middle of snow and slush. But snowdrops, resistant, like tin soldiers, continued to “wake up” in the morning and grow. Sometimes, on the coldest days, they were covered with frost and ice, but again thawed and continued to please us with their modest beauty. These little courageous flowers seemed to say to us: “Be patient, there is very little left until spring.”
And indeed, the heat did not take long to wait. The snow melted, and the snowdrops wilted and disappeared among the fresh grass. They were replaced by bright sunshine mother-and-stepmother, and then dandelions. But for a long time I remembered that first spring flower, which opened for me the charm of my native nature, awakening after a long winter sleep.