Composition trekking in the forest

The day off is an essay. A day in the coniferous forest presented gentle memories

A weekend weekend, an essay about which is presented to the attention of the reader, began with a walk of children in the surrounding neighborhoods. Passing a wheat field, swinging with waves of emerald bread stems, schoolchildren strolled along the fairy-tale pine forest, the buzzing organ of the ship’s pine trees above the everyday bustle of forest dwellers.

The day off in early May was very warm and sunny. My class climbed on May Day to rest from the busy school year end and recharge the spring mood for the upcoming, last call.

Early in the morning, barely touched by the gentle dawn of the tops, whitening in the suburbs, high-rise microdistricts, we took the first trolleybus to the final stop on the country road. Ahead of it was a green field of young wheat, followed by a picturesque fir-tree, which was replenished every year with new seedlings of young pine and fir-trees.


viscous porridge of the spring mudslide beneath our feet was gradually replaced by the velvet islands of emerald moss and the springy, tasty crunchy carpet of last year’s red needles. We went one after another in single file, deviating from the spreading paws of thorny pines.

Some, perennial fir trees were so high that it seemed as if the white lambs of clouds seemed to cling to their blue-green, hairy tops, frolicking in the dance of the heavenly dance. Naughty sunshine that dived into their whipped foam, then slyly peeped, winking in a scattering of sunny “bunnies.”

We easily found a meadow suitable for a picnic and a small fire made from dry twigs and cones. Speaking in a half-voice, so as not to disturb the invisible forest inhabitants. we rested comfortably around the sparks, splashing the sheaves, and enjoying the beauty and tranquility of the day off.

The distant cuckoo counted down for many long years, and the carefree woodpecker, looking between us with rolling tugs, looked curiously at us, bowing from side to side with his red beret. Spring motifs of bird’s trills fused in unison, hovering over the evergreen forest with the life-affirming chord of harmony.

On the way home, we very often looked back, mentally saying goodbye to the fairy tale of the nature of our native land and with firm confidence to return all together to this wonderful place during our summer holidays.

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Composition trekking in the forest