On Saturday evening, my father told me: “Get ready, Vovka, tomorrow we’ll go listen to the orchestra.” “Did you buy the tickets?” I asked. Dad smiled and said that this concert is free. The next day my father woke us with his mother and the light did not dawn and we went on the train.
And behind the city train station; stretched landing, empty fields. At one station we went out and immediately plunged into the silence that was unusual for the townspeople. Then there was a country road. And here we are in the forest. “Now let’s listen,” – say the pope. It was the middle of autumn. The forest struck multicolor. The whiteness of the birches stood out sharply on the yellow, crimson and brown background of foliage on the trees and on the ground.
And suddenly we clearly heard the sound of a drop. The fog settled on the leaves and fell down with large drops. From the carved red and light brown, as if polished oak leaves swiftly dripped droplets, making a thick noise. Suddenly a breeze ran over the aspen crowns and branches banged each other. Dad said that it’s like a rattle – such a folk musical percussion instrument. After a moment, we heard a tit squeak, the bride said to her. The sparrows took a cheerful note. From the thicket came the beetle of a woodpecker, zastrekotala magpie.
Again the wind swung the crown, which made the sounds of the drip even more sonorous. “And who is the conductor of this orchestra?” – joked mother. And then a thin sunbeam broke through the fog. “And here is the conductor’s baton,” said the pope. “So the conductor is the sun,” I said. We laughed together.
What a miracle this forest band!