Description of the autumn forest in bright colors. Time for silence and inspiration
Interesting :
***
Noisy leaves, flying around,
The forest started the autumn howl ...
Some gray birds flock
Spinning in the wind with foliage.
And I was small - a careless joke
Their confusion seemed to me:
Under the rumble and rustle of a terrible dance
I had doubly fun.
I wanted along with a noisy whirlwind
Spinning through the forest, screaming -
And meet each copper sheet
Delight joyfully-crazy!
Beautiful and sad forest in the early autumn days. Slowly spinning in the air, light, weightless yellow leaves fall and fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of light cobwebs stretched from tree to tree. The late fall flowers are still blooming. Clear and clean air. Clear water in forest ditches and streams. Every pebble at the bottom is visible. Quiet, only the fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Sometimes a hazel grouse will whistle thinly. And that makes the silence even louder.
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
***
The forest drops its crimson dress,
The withered field is silvered by frost,
The day will pass as if involuntarily
And hide behind the edge of the surrounding mountains.
Blaze, fireplace, in my deserted cell;
And you, wine, friend of the autumn cold,
Pour a pleasant hangover into my chest,
Minute oblivion of bitter torments.
wind in the forest
What happened to the maples?
They nodded their crowns.
And the tall oaks
It's like they're up on their hind legs.
And the hazel is not his own -
Rustles with dense foliage.
And barely audible
Ash whispers:
- I don't agree...
Disagree...
***
Autumn leaves are circling in the wind
Autumn leaves cry out in alarm:
"Everything perishes, everything perishes! You are black and naked,
O dear forest, your end has come!"
The royal forest does not hear the alarm.
Under the dark azure of harsh skies
He was swaddled by mighty dreams,
And the strength for a new spring ripens in it.
Poems about the forest in autumn
***
Autumn. Thickets of the forest.
Moss of dry swamps.
The lake is white.
Pale sky.
The water lilies have bloomed
And the saffron blossomed.
paved paths,
The forest is empty and naked.
Only you are beautiful
Though dry for a long time
In the bumps by the bay
Old alder.
You look feminine
In the water half asleep -
And you will become silver
First of all, spring.
***
Wrapped in a thing of drowsiness,
The half-naked forest is sad...
Is it the hundredth of summer leaves,
Shining with autumn gilding,
Still rustling on branches.
I look with compassion,
When, breaking through the clouds,
Suddenly through the trees dotted
With their decrepit leaves exhausted,
A lightning beam will splatter!
How fading cute!
What a beauty in it for us,
When that so blossomed and lived,
Now, so feeble and feeble,
Smile for the last time!
Scenery
I love the forest path
Not knowing where, wander;
double deep gauge
You go - and there is no end of the road ...
Green forest is all around;
Autumn maples are already blushing,
And the spruce forest is green and shady; -
Aspen yellow sounds the alarm;
A leaf fell off a birch
And, like a carpet, covered the road ...
You walk as if on water,
The leg makes noise ... but the ear listens
The slightest rustle in the thicket, there,
Where the lush fern slumbers,
And a row of red fly agarics,
That the dwarfs are fabulous, they are sleeping ...
***
Forest, like a painted tower,
Purple, gold, crimson,
Cheerful, colorful wall
It stands over a bright meadow.
Birches with yellow carving
Shine in blue azure,
Like towers, Christmas trees darken,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there in the foliage through
Clearances in the sky, that windows.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
During the summer it dried up from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his motley tower.
Today in an empty meadow
In the middle of a wide courtyard
Air web fabric
Shine like a net of silver.
Playing all day today
The last moth in the yard
And like a white petal
Freezes on the web
warmed by the warmth of the sun;
Today it's so bright all around
Such dead silence
In the forest and in the blue sky
What is possible in this silence
Hear the rustle of leaves.
Forest, like a painted tower,
Purple, gold, crimson,
Standing above the sunny meadow,
Enchanted by silence;
The thrush quacks, flying
Among the podsed, where thick
Foliage an amber reflection pours;
Playing in the sky will flash
Scattered flock of starlings -
And everything will freeze again.
Last moments of happiness!
Autumn already knows what it is
Deep and mute peace -
A harbinger of a long storm.
Deep, strange forest was silent
And at dawn, when from sunset
Purple glitter of fire and gold
The tower illuminated with fire.
Then it darkened gloomily.
The moon is rising, and in the forest
Shadows fall on the dew...
It's cold and white
Among the glades, among the through
Dead autumn thicket,
And terribly one Autumn
In the desert silence of the night.
Now the silence is different:
Listen - it grows
And with her, frightening with pallor,
And the moon slowly rises.
He made all the shadows shorter
Transparent smoke brought to the forest
And now he looks straight into the eyes
From the misty heights of the sky.
O dead dream of the autumn night!
Oh terrible hour of night miracles!
In the silvery and damp fog
Light and empty in the clearing;
Forest filled with white light
With its frozen beauty
As if death is prophesying for itself;
Owl, and she is silent: she sits,
Yes, it looks stupidly from the branches,
Autumn
Covers a golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest...
I boldly trample with my foot
Spring forest beauty.
Cheeks burn with cold;
I like to run in the forest,
Hear the branches crack
Rake the leaves with your feet!
I have no former pleasures here!
The forest has taken a secret from itself:
The last nut is plucked
Tied the last flower;
Moss is not raised, not blown up
A pile of curly mushrooms;
Doesn't hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry brushes;
Long on the leaves, lies
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Looks cold somehow
Clear skies...
Leaves rustle under foot;
Death spreads its harvest...
Only I have a cheerful soul
And like crazy, I sing!
***
He showered the forest on his peaks,
The garden bared its brow
September died, and dahlias
The breath of the night burned.
***
Like a sad look, I love autumn.
On a foggy, quiet day I walk
I often go to the forest and sit there -
I look at the white sky
Yes, to the tops of dark pines.
I love, biting a sour leaf,
With a lazy smile,
Dream to do whimsical
Yes, listen to woodpeckers thin whistle.
The grass withered all ... cold,
A calm brilliance is poured over her ...
And sadness is quiet and free
I surrender with all my heart...
What can't I remember? Which
My dreams won't visit me?
And the pines bend as if alive,
And so thoughtfully noisy ...
And like a flock of huge birds,
Suddenly the wind will blow
And in the boughs tangled and dark
He hums impatiently.
author: I. Turgenev 
***
A green forest is going by a cliff,
Autumn maples are already blushing,
And the spruce forest is green and shady;
Aspen yellow sounds the alarm;
A leaf fell off a birch
And as a carpet strewn the road -
You walk - as if on the waters -
The leg makes noise ... And the ear listens
Softened speech in the thicket, there,
Where the lush fern slumbers
And a row of red fly agaric
Like fabulous dwarfs, they sleep;
And here is the gap: through the leaves they shine,
Sparkling gold, jets ...
You hear the saying: the waters are splashing,
Rocking sleepy boats;
And the mill wheezes and groans
To the sound of frenzied wheels.
Won-won hides a heavy cart:
They bring grain. Klyachonka drives
Peasant, carrying a child,
And the granddaughter amuses the grandfather with fear,
And, lowering the fluffy tail,
A bug bustles around barking,
And loudly in the dusk of the forest
Cheerful barking flies around.
***
Autumn. Fairy tale,
All open for review.
clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes
Like in an art exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.
Autumn in the forest
Taking off the rifle from the nail, I leave the house,
I walk between the winter, blackening road;
I look at a bunch of stacks, at a broken fence,
To the pond and the mill, to the wild slope,
On the bank of the brook swampy-sloping,
And I enter the nearby forest. There is a reddened maple,
More green oak and yellow birches
Sadly, my tears are shaking off;
But far away I go, immersed in dreams,
And half-naked branches hang over me,
And thoughts meanwhile are composed in consonance,
Free words are crowded into a dimensional system,
And the soul is light, and sweet, and strange,
And everything is quiet all around, and under my foot
So softly wet leaf rustles fragrant.
***
October is coming.
But the forest day is bright.
And autumn smiles
blue skies,
Silent lakes,
That lay their blue,
And pink dawns
In the birch region!
Here is moss gray lace
On an old boulder
And the yellow leaf is spinning
The other is already on the stump!..
And side by side, under the vines,
Under their dense canopy,
The boletus climbed -
And a sideways hat.
But everything in the forest is sadder:
Couldn't find a flower
How the pendulum swings
Aspen leaf.
Tree shadows are long...
And colder rays.
And cranes in the sky
Bubbling streams!
Forest in autumn
Between thinning tops
Blue appeared.
Noisy at the edges
Bright yellow foliage.
Birds are not heard. Crack small
broken knot,
And, with a flickering tail, a squirrel
Light makes a jump.
The spruce in the forest became more noticeable -
Protects deep shade.
Boletus last
He pushed his hat to one side.
***
Autumn peeked into the dark dense forest.
How many fresh cones green pines have.
How many scarlet berries the forest mountain ash has!
Waves grew right on the path.
And among lingonberries, on a green hummock,
A mushroom-mushroom in a red scarf came out.
The wind blew in the forest clearing,
He twirled an aspen in a red sundress.
And a leaf of birch with a golden bee
Curls and flies over a thorny Christmas tree.
And under the Christmas tree milk mushrooms paved the bridge ...
Goodbye, tree! Come visit us!
***
Autumn forest every year
Pays gold to enter.
Look at the aspen -
All dressed in gold
And she babbles:
"Stenu ..." -
And shivering from the cold.
And the birch is happy
Yellow outfit:
"Well, the dress!
What a charm!"
Leaves quickly scattered
The frost came suddenly.
And the birch whispers:
"I'm chilling!..."
Lost weight at the oak
Gilded coat.
The oak caught on, but it's too late
And he roars:
"I'm freezing! I'm freezing!"
Deceived gold -
Didn't save me from the cold.
***
We can not live in the world without miracles,
They meet us everywhere.
Magic, autumn and fairy forest
He invites us to visit.
The wind will spin to the song of the rain,
Throw leaves at our feet.
Such a beautiful time
Miracle Autumn came to us again.
***
One day a wizard was walking through the forest.
I just walked around like that, wandered ...
He revived the shriveled deadwood,
I dressed lindens in sundresses,
I put scarlet beads on mountain ash,
Glittered in the sun
And pure old gold
Painted acorns on oak trees.
Blue ripples disturbed the river,
Whispered secretly with the reeds,
Willow branches twisted into rings
And the rain went to the village.
This autumn son-prankster,
Average, quiet affectionate friend.
It is a pity that not a single happy holiday,
October does not give his flag.
September in the forest
The yellow leaf turns and curls,
Rain drips and pours
The rowan berries have blushed,
Hanging threads of the web.
The wind flies, whirls
And the birds sing softly
The sun's ray in the clouds melts,
The day is running out faster.
The forest is filled with mushrooms
Leaf, needles underfoot.
Dewdrops melt on the grass
Mushroom pickers are invited to the forest.
The squirrel is looking for a nut,
Her fur fluffed up.
Hedgehog walks, not in a hurry,
And on the back of the mushroom lies.
The bunny jumps, winds,
He picks cabbage.
The mole prepares the bins,
He is not afraid of winter.
***
Gives autumn miracles
And what!
The forests are dressed up
In golden hats.
On a stump they sit in a crowd
red mushrooms,
And the spider is a dodger! -
Pulls the network somewhere.
Rain and withered grass
Sleepy more often at night
Incomprehensible words
They mumble until the morning.
autumn
In the crane sky
The wind carries clouds.
The willow whispers to the willow:
"Autumn. Autumn again!"
Leaves yellow downpour,
The sun is below the pines.
Willow whispers:
"Autumn. Autumn is coming soon!"
Frost on the shrub
White cry sketched.
The oak whispers to the mountain ash:
"Autumn. Autumn is coming soon!"
Fir trees whisper
In the middle of the forest:
"Soon will be swept
And he'll wind up soon!"
***
Gathered and flew
Ducks on a long journey.
Under the roots of an old spruce
The bear is making a lair.
The hare dressed in white fur,
The bunny got warm.
Wears a squirrel for a whole month
For reserve mushrooms in the hollow.
The wolves roam the dark night
For prey in the forests.
Between the bushes to the sleepy grouse
The fox is escaping.
Hides the nutcracker for the winter
In the old moss nuts cleverly.
Capercaillie pinch needles.
They came to us for the winter
Northerners-bullfinches.
Sunday walk in the forest in autumn (composition)
Autumn is a beautiful and very amazing time of the year! Around are trees with yellowed and half-fallen leaves, and underfoot lies a huge carpet, full of a frenzied variety of all bright and saturated colors. And even better, if such wonderful landscapes are accompanied by the autumn sun, which no longer bakes like summer, but only slightly caresses and warms.
In such weather it will be unforgivable to stay at home, it is best to take a walk. And most best day for a walk will be Sunday. A day off when you don’t need to hurry and rush anywhere, but you can take a measured and sedate walk through the autumn forest.
Such a walk evokes romantic images and is suitable for both a child and an old man. It would be best to take a walk alone to think about life, reflect on your worldview and admire the beauty of nature falling asleep for the winter. It is still warm, there is no cold and frost, but a slight chill has already forced people to put on jackets and scarves. The walk is very exciting and will be remembered for a long time. The sky may not be overcast, but delight with its blueness and small clouds. Migratory birds are already flying south in their shoals.
What deep thoughts about life evoke autumn nature, painted in different colors. What only divine shades are not here! Here and yellow, and orange, and red, and even the remains of green. And all this abundance of flowers, a riot of colors surrounds us from all sides. It is these cozy walks in silence and loneliness that will help relieve stress, focus on something important for yourself, take a break from the hustle and bustle big city and be alone with yourself.
Sunday walks in the forest, of course, can be carried out at any other time of the year, but autumn gives them a special charm and splendor, because autumn is the sunset of nature, following before its long winter sleep.
Composition Forest in autumn.
The forest is especially beautiful in autumn. For some reason, many people think that the most colorful time of the year is summer. They are completely wrong. Autumn is the most beautiful time of the year. It is in the forest that you can observe many colors that you will never see in the summer. Even the smell of the autumn forest is completely different.
When you walk along the paths, you will never get lost. Going deep into the forest, you can accidentally wander into a clearing and discover a sweet surprise for yourself. Many berries grow in the forest, and they are a thousand times tastier than other berries. When you approach the clearing, you can already feel their sweet aroma. In the forest you feel very special, even the air that you breathe in the air seems so heavy at first, all this is due to the fact that people are used to breathing dirty air.
Autumn forest it will also help creative people find their inspiration, one has only to go into it, lie down on the ground and look up. Various colors will flash before the eyes: red, orange, yellow, green. Such colors can warm the soul of even the saddest person on earth, give strength and free your head from unnecessary thoughts. When everything in the head gets rid of unnecessary thoughts, a person will be able to calmly reflect on his ideas, it is at such moments that they come and turn out to be correct.
There is still something bewitching in the autumn forest, something that can make you come to it again and again. It seems to me that people go there just to be themselves, because the forest will accept you for who you are and you don’t need to put on masks in front of the trees with which you can talk like with friends.
Composition reasoning Forest in autumn
On one of the rainy autumn days when I was bored social media And computer games I decided to take a walk in the forest. Fortunately, there were plenty of forests in the Moscow region, and one of them was located a few kilometers from my house.
After my grandmother equipped me with a lot of unnecessary, in my opinion, things, I still left the house. I hadn't even made it halfway before it began to rain. The last rays of the sun hid behind the clouds and it became quite dreary.
When I got to the right place, the world seemed to have changed. The forest played with different colors. Green changed to colors ranging from gold to ruby. The trees have become like the work of a jeweler, each unique and irresistible. Walking further along the path, I saw mushrooms hiding under the fallen leaves. I carefully cut off a few of them with a folding knife and put them in a bag. Suddenly, something ran down my legs.
Lowering my head, I saw a small hedgehog. Maybe? hunger forced him to approach the man. I took out the cutlet and put it on the floor. The hedgehog grabbed a cutlet with his teeth and disappeared behind the trees. After wandering along the path a little more, I headed towards the house.
Returning home, I made tea, sat down at the table and hurried to write down everything that happened on one of the rainy spring days ...
6th grade, 5th and 4th grade, 3rd grade. Forest in autumn description, 10-12 sentences
Composition on the theme of autumn forest
The forest is beautiful in all seasons! But trees in autumn can boast of a special charm.
Bright multi-colored leaves make the most seemingly familiar trees and shrubs unrecognizable and unusual. In the white beauty of the birch, the leaves turn yellow. The maple giant transforms his robe into a red cloak. Try, do not pay attention to such a handsome man! The oak is covered with brown foliage and becomes like an ancient old man. Elm combines the beauty of all trees. Its leaves shimmer with all colors: yellow, red and brown. Well, isn't that a miracle!
Coming to the edge of the forest, the eyes themselves find a delightful sight - mountain ash! The leaves of these thin trees are red in autumn, and the berries are even brighter. Like a fire they burn, but do not burn. And only Christmas trees and pines do not change either in winter or in summer. Proud impatiens stand in their green robes and scare away uninvited guests with prickly needles.
The autumn forest is very generous to those who like to walk slowly through it and carefully look around and under their feet. Each tree is ready to give you a special gift. Look under the birch, you will find a boletus, under the aspen - a boletus. Do not be lazy to walk through a young pine plantation, and the butterflies themselves will ask to be in your wallet.
But the autumn forest will share not only mushrooms with you. You can find a lot of treasures in it! If you look into a hazel tree, you will stock up on tasty and healthy nuts for the winter. Berries of mountain ash and viburnum will not be superfluous in your home first aid kit. A lot of herbs will become delicious and fragrant tea for you.
And what a great way to go on a family hike in the woods! Fresh air and silence will fill you up and cleanse you of problems and worries. The forest will seem a little empty compared to summer time. The endless chirping of birds is not heard in the forest, there is no huge abundance of insects that snooped under your feet in summer, the aroma of flowering herbs is not felt. The forest is preparing for winter, and therefore he put on his best outfit to be remembered for a long time.
It is not in vain that poets sing of the beauty of the autumn forest, artists paint pictures and composers compose music. Only the most indifferent person will be able to pass by such beauty, given to us by mother - nature. Composing an essay The work of the soul Grade 7
The work of the soul is an unusual concept in itself. How can the soul work? Although the poet said that the soul must work both day and night. (I don’t remember who exactly said, since we didn’t go through this program yet.)
Little Red Riding Hood has been known to us since childhood and everyone knows it almost by heart. It can be compared with fables: after all, it is in fables that animals can talk, and each carries its own morality, its own specific meaning.
Human people, in fact, are at every step, but they do good deeds disinterestedly, without expecting a reward or praise for this, so not everyone pays attention to them.
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
The chirping swallows flew south a long time ago, and even earlier, as if on cue, swift swifts disappeared.
In the autumn days, the children heard how, saying goodbye to their dear homeland, flying cranes were cooing in the sky. With some special feeling, they looked after them for a long time, as if the cranes were taking the summer away with them.
Quietly talking, geese flew to the warm south ...
Getting ready for cold winter People. Rye and wheat have long been cut down. Prepared feed for livestock. They pick the last apples in the orchards. They dug up potatoes, beets, carrots and harvest them for the winter.
The animals are getting ready for winter. The nimble squirrel accumulated nuts in a hollow, dried selected mushrooms. Little mice-voles dragged grains into their burrows, prepared fragrant soft hay.
In late autumn, a hardworking hedgehog builds its winter lair. He dragged a whole heap of dry leaves under the old stump. All winter will sleep peacefully under a warm blanket.
Less and less, the autumn sun warms more and more sparingly.
Soon, soon the first frosts will begin.
Mother Earth will freeze until spring. Everyone took everything from her that she could give.
Autumn
It's been a fun summer. Here comes autumn. It's time to harvest. Vanya and Fedya are digging potatoes. Vasya picks beets and carrots, and Fenya picks beans. There are many plums in the garden. Vera and Felix pick fruit and send it to the school cafeteria. There everyone is treated with ripe and tasty fruits.
In the forest
Grisha and Kolya went into the forest. They picked mushrooms and berries. They put mushrooms in a basket, and berries in a basket. Suddenly thunder boomed. The sun has disappeared. Clouds appeared all around. The wind bent the trees to the ground. There was a big rain. The boys went to the forester's house. Soon the forest became quiet. Rain stopped. The sun came out. Grisha and Kolya went home with mushrooms and berries.
Mushrooms
The guys went to the forest for mushrooms. Roma found a beautiful boletus under a birch. Valya saw a small butter dish under a pine tree. Serezha saw a huge boletus in the grass. In the grove they collected full baskets of various mushrooms. The children returned home happy and happy.
Forest in autumn
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
The Russian forest is beautiful and sad in the early autumn days. Against the golden background of yellowed foliage, bright spots of red-yellow maples and aspens stand out. Slowly spinning in the air, light, weightless yellow leaves fall and fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of light cobwebs stretched from tree to tree. The late fall flowers are still blooming.
Clear and clean air. Clear water in forest ditches and streams. Every pebble at the bottom is visible.
Quiet in the autumn forest. Fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Sometimes a hazel grouse will whistle thinly. And that makes the silence even louder.
It is easy to breathe in the autumn forest. And I don't want to leave it for a long time. It's good in the autumn flowery forest... But something sad, farewell is heard and seen in it.
nature in autumn
The mysterious princess Autumn will take the tired nature into her hands, dress her in golden outfits and soak her with long rains. Autumn will calm the breathless earth, blow away the last leaves with the wind and lay in the cradle of a long winter sleep.
Autumn day in a birch grove
I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, about half of September. From the very morning a fine rain fell, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was erratic. The sky was now all clouded over with loose white clouds, then it suddenly cleared in places for a moment, and then behind the parted clouds a azure appeared, clear and gentle ...
I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled a little over my head; one could tell from their noise what season it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing thrill of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long talk of summer, not the timid and cold babble of late autumn, but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A light wind blew a little over the tops. The inside of the grove, damp from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun shone or was covered with clouds; at one time it lit up all over, as if all of a sudden everything was smiling in it ... then suddenly everything around it again turned slightly blue: the bright colors instantly went out ... and stealthily, slyly, the tiniest rain began to sow and whisper through the forest.
The foliage on the birch trees was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; only here and there stood one young woman, all red or all gold...
Not a single bird was heard: everyone took shelter and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of the tit tinkle like a steel bell.
An autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when a birch, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in a pale blue sky, when the low sun is no longer warm, but shines brighter than summer, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it it is fun and easy to stand naked, the frost is still whitening at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind quietly stirs and drives the fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, quietly raising scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered with willows, and, motley in the bright air, doves quickly circle over it ...
By the beginning of September, the weather suddenly changed dramatically and quite unexpectedly. Quiet and cloudless days immediately set in, so clear, sunny and warm that there were none even in July. On the dry, compressed fields, on their prickly yellow bristles, autumn cobwebs shone with a mica sheen. The calmed trees silently and obediently dropped their yellow leaves.
Late fall
Korolenko Vladimir Galaktionovich
Coming late fall. The fruit is heavy; he breaks down and falls to the ground. He dies, but the seed lives in him, and in this seed the whole future plant lives in "possibility", with its future luxurious foliage and with its new fruit. The seed will fall to the ground; and the cold sun is already rising low above the earth, a cold wind is running, cold clouds are rushing ... Not only passion, but life itself freezes quietly, imperceptibly ... The earth more and more emerges from under the green with its blackness, cold tones dominate in the sky ... And then the day comes when millions of snowflakes fall on this resigned and hushed, as if widowed earth, and it all becomes even, monochromatic and white ... White color- this is the color of cold snow, the color of the highest clouds that float in the inaccessible cold of the heavenly heights, - the color of majestic and barren mountain peaks ...
Antonov apples
Bunin Ivan Alekseevich
I remember the early fine autumn. August was with warm rains at the very time, in the middle of the month. I remember an early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember a large, all golden, dried up and thinned garden, I remember maple alleys, the delicate aroma of fallen leaves and the smell of Antonov apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it's like it doesn't exist at all. Everywhere smells strongly of apples.
By night it becomes very cold and dewy. Breathing on the threshing floor rye aroma new straw and chaff, you briskly walk home to supper past the garden rampart. The voices in the village or the creaking of the gates resound through the icy dawn with unusual clarity. It's getting dark. And here's another smell: in the garden - a fire and strongly pulls the fragrant smoke of cherry branches. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: just in a corner of hell, a crimson flame is burning near the hut, surrounded by darkness ...
"A vigorous Antonovka - for a merry year." Village affairs are good if Antonovka is born: it means that bread is born too ... I remember a harvest year.
At early dawn, when the roosters are still crowing, you used to open a window into a cool garden filled with a lilac fog, through which the morning sun shines brightly in some places ... You run to wash yourself on the pond. The small foliage has almost completely flown from the coastal vines, and the branches are visible in the turquoise sky. The water under the vines became clear, icy and as if heavy. She instantly drives away the night's laziness.
You will enter the house and first of all you will hear the smell of apples, and then others.
Since the end of September, our gardens and threshing floor have been empty, the weather, as usual, has changed dramatically. The wind tore and ruffled the trees for whole days, the rains watered them from morning to night.
Cold and bright shone in the north over heavy lead clouds liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds, the ridges of snowy mountains-clouds slowly floated up, the window closed into the blue sky, and the garden became deserted and boring, and the rain began to sow again ... at first quietly, carefully, then it got thicker and finally turned into a downpour with storm and darkness. It's been a long, unsettling night...
From such a beating, the garden came out completely naked, covered with wet leaves and somehow hushed, resigned. But on the other hand, how beautiful it was when the clear weather came again, the transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will now hang on the trees until the first frost. The black garden will shine through in the cold turquoise sky and dutifully wait for winter, warming itself in the sunshine. And the fields are already sharply turning black with arable land and bright green with bushy winter crops ...
You wake up and lie in bed for a long time. The whole house is silent. Ahead - a whole day of rest in the already silent winter estate. You will slowly get dressed, wander around the garden, find in the wet foliage an accidentally forgotten cold and wet apple, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like the others.
Dictionary of native nature
It is impossible to list the signs of all seasons. Therefore, I skip summer and move on to autumn, to its first days, when “September” is already beginning.
The earth is fading, but the “Indian summer” is still ahead with its last bright, but already cold, like a shine of mica, the radiance of the sun. From the deep blue of skies washed with cool air. With a flying web (“yarn of the Mother of God,” as ardent old women still call it in some places) and a fallen, wilted leaf that falls asleep on empty waters. Birch groves stand like crowds of beautiful girls in short shawls embroidered with gold leaf. "A sad time - the charm of the eyes."
Then - bad weather, heavy rains, the icy north wind "siverko", plowing lead waters, coldness, coldness, pitch-black nights, icy dew, dark dawns.
So everything goes on until the first frost seizes, binds the earth, the first powder falls and the first path is established. And there is already winter with blizzards, blizzards, snowstorms, snowfall, gray frosts, landmarks in the fields, the creak of undercuts on the sledge, gray, snowy skies ...
Often in autumn I would closely watch the falling leaves to catch that imperceptible split second when the leaf separates from the branch and begins to fall to the ground, but I did not succeed for a long time. I have read in old books about the sound of falling leaves, but I have never heard that sound. If the leaves rustled, it was only on the ground, under the feet of a person. The rustle of leaves in the air seemed to me as unbelievable as stories about hearing the grass grow in spring.
I was, of course, wrong. Time was needed so that the ear, dulled by the rattle of the city streets, could rest and catch the very clear and precise sounds of the autumn earth.
Late one evening I went out into the garden to the well. I put a dim kerosene lantern on the log house " bat and got some water. Leaves were floating in the bucket. They were everywhere. There was nowhere to get rid of them. Black bread from the bakery was brought with wet leaves stuck to it. The wind threw handfuls of leaves on the table, on the bunk, on the floor. on books, and it was difficult to groom along the paths of fat: you had to walk on the leaves, as if on deep snow. We found leaves in the pockets of our raincoats, in caps, in our hair - everywhere. We slept on them and soaked in their scent.
There are autumn nights, deafened and mute, when calmness hangs over the black wooded edge and only the watchman's beater comes from the village outskirts.
It was such a night. The lantern illuminated the well, the old maple under the fence, and the wind-torn nasturtium bush in the yellowed flower bed.
I looked at the maple tree and saw how a red leaf carefully and slowly separated from the branch, shuddered, stopped for a moment in the air and began to fall obliquely at my feet, slightly rustling and swaying. For the first time I heard the rustle of a falling leaf - an indistinct sound, like a child's whisper.
My house
Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich
It is especially good in the gazebo on quiet autumn nights, when a leisurely sheer rain rustles in an undertone in the salou.
Cool air barely shakes the tongue of the candle. Corner shadows from grape leaves lie on the ceiling of the gazebo. A night butterfly, resembling a lump of gray raw silk, sits on an open book and leaves the finest shiny dust on the page. It smells of rain - a gentle and at the same time pungent smell of moisture, damp garden paths.
At dawn I wake up. Fog rustles in the garden. Leaves fall in the mist. I pull a bucket of water from the well. A frog jumps out of the bucket. I douse myself with well water and listen to the shepherd's horn - he still sings far away, at the very outskirts.
It's getting light. I take the oars and go to the river. I'm sailing in the fog. The East is rosy. The smell of the smoke of rural stoves is no longer heard. There remains only the silence of the water, thickets of centuries-old willows.
Ahead is a deserted September day. Ahead - lostness in this vast world of fragrant foliage, herbs, autumn wilt, calm waters, clouds, low sky. And I always feel this loss as happiness.
What are the rains
Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich
(Excerpt from the story "Golden Rose")
The sun sets in clouds, smoke falls to the ground, swallows fly low, roosters crow in the yards without time, clouds stretch across the sky in long misty strands - all these are signs of rain. And shortly before the rain, although the clouds have not yet pulled, a gentle breath of moisture is heard. It must be brought from where the rains have already fallen.
But here the first drops begin to drip. The popular word "dripping" well conveys the occurrence of rain, when even rare drops leave dark specks on dusty paths and roofs.
Then the rain disperses. It is then that the wonderful cool smell of the earth, first moistened by the dogge, arises. He doesn't last long. It is replaced by the smell of wet grass, especially nettle.
It is characteristic that, no matter what kind of rain it will be, as soon as it starts, it is always called very affectionately - rain. “The rain has gathered”, “the rain has let go”, “the rain washes the grass” ...
How, for example, is the difference between spore rain and mushroom rain?
The word "arguable" means - fast, quick. Spore rain pours steeply, strongly. He always approaches with an incoming noise.
Particularly good is the spore rain on the river. Each drop of it knocks out a round depression in the water, a small water bowl, jumps, falls again and for a few moments before disappearing, is still visible at the bottom of this water bowl. The drop glistens and looks like a pearl.
At the same time, there is a glass ringing all over the river. By the height of this ringing, you can guess whether the rain is gaining strength or subsiding.
A small mushroom rain sleepily pours from low clouds. The puddles from this rain are always warm. He does not ring, but whispers something of his own, soporific, and is slightly noticeably fiddling in the bushes, as if touching one leaf or another with a soft paw.
Forest humus and moss absorb this rain slowly, thoroughly. Therefore, after it, mushrooms begin to climb violently - sticky butterflies, yellow chanterelles, mushrooms, ruddy mushrooms, honey agaric and countless grebes.
During mushroom rains, the air smells of smoke and the cunning and cautious fish - roach - takes well.
People say about the blind rain falling in the sun: "The princess is crying." The sparkling sun drops of this rain look like large tears. And who should cry with such shining tears of grief or joy, if not the fabulous beauty of the princess!
You can follow the play of light during the rain for a long time, the variety of sounds - from the measured knock on the boarded roof and the liquid ringing in the drainpipe to the continuous, intense rumble when the rain pours, as they say, like a wall.
All this is only an insignificant part of what can be said about the rain ...
Ivan Turgenev "Forest in autumn"
And how good this same forest is late autumn when the woodcocks arrive! They do not stay in the wilderness itself: they must be sought along the edge. There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise; in the soft air there is an autumn smell, like the smell of wine; a thin mist hangs in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare, brown boughs of the trees, the still sky peacefully whitens; in some places the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot; tall dry blades of grass do not move; long threads glitter on the pale grass. The chest breathes calmly, and a strange anxiety finds in the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest, you look at the dog, and meanwhile your favorite images, your favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, impressions that have long since fallen asleep suddenly wake up; the imagination flies and flies like a bird, and everything moves so clearly and stands before your eyes. The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward, then irretrievably drown in memories. All life unfolds easily and quickly like a scroll; man owns all his past, all his feelings, forces, all his soul. And nothing around him interferes - there is no sun, no wind, no noise ...
And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when the birch, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than summer, a small aspen grove all sparkles through, as if it is fun and easy for her to stand naked, the frost still turns white at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind quietly stirs and drives the fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, rhythmically raising scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered with willows, and, motley in the bright air, doves quickly circle over it ...
The autumn forest is beautiful, like in a fairy tale. Nature rages with bright, cheerful colors. The air smells of mushrooms and the last autumn flowers.
The trees have changed into a golden outfit and stand, showing off and triumphant. The sun's rays break through the thinned foliage. Elusive sunbeams playfully jump along the dark trunks of trees. Caressing the branches, a quiet, fresh breeze gently blows. Yellow and crimson leaves slowly fall to the ground, lining a golden carpet at the foot of the trees.
mushroom season
The rains have recently passed, and now the mushroom season has begun. But you need to know the favorite places of each type of mushroom. For example, champignons grow along forest roads and in fields. Ryzhiki settle under pines, spruces, firs, larches. Honey mushrooms grow on trees and stumps.
Cold is not far away
The days are fine, but forest animals feel that the cold is not far off. The rustle of fallen leaves, a prickly hedgehog peeking out from behind the stumps. He prepares his winter bed - collects dry leaves and thin twigs. Then, making his way through the stumps and decks, he takes a simple belongings to his home. Here and there, a hard-working squirrel scurries about. By burying cones in secluded places, she stocks up for the winter.
Migratory birds flew south. The worms hid in the ground. Nimble lizards disappeared. Slippery snakes and black snakes twisted into circles. You can hear every sound in the autumn forest.
While warm, but nature has already begun to prepare for winter sleep.
Miniature about autumn forest
It's worth autumn. October on the calendar. slowly passes into the time of golden autumn. Poplar and quickly shed their yellow leaves. Only maples are still elegant, pleasing to the eye with beautiful orange leaves. The sky is grey, gloomy.
During this period, there are usually a lot of mushrooms. Harvesting mushrooms is a great excuse to go to the autumn forest.
It is raining in the forest, and the leaves do not rustle underfoot. Thrushes are merrily circling over the mountain ash. Its fruits are the favorite delicacy of these birds. Flying from branch to branch, they peck at clusters of red berries. The jays are screaming in the oaks. Tits squeak above the spruce. Grouse fly towards the forest thicket.
The forest dwellers have a lot of trouble. The bears haven't hibernated yet. They accumulate fat reserves in order to oversleep until spring. Hedgehogs and squirrels actively stock up for the winter. The life of the autumn forest is seething!
Mini-composition "Forest in autumn"
The forest has already turned yellow under the breath of autumn. A dry leaf fluttered on the branches, fell off, spun in the air. He covered the earth with a motley, soft carpet. The deeper into the forest - silence, various colors. The forest seemed to be thinking and looking up at the pale sky. He listened to the slowly flowing sap of the trees, the death of leaves and grass. The silence was broken by the crackling of a dry branch under the feet of a shy animal, the noisy flight of a bird and the angry cry of a crow.
The story of the autumn forest
It was a beautiful autumn day. The weather was warm and sunny, a real Indian summer. The children decided to go to the forest for mushrooms. It rained a lot a couple of weeks ago, so they hoped for a good mushroom harvest. The guys took large baskets and went into a thick thicket.
For a long time they walked in search of the gifts of the forest. Along the way, we met other mushroom pickers returning with full baskets. To fill the baskets to the brim, I had to try hard. Most of all managed to find boletus and boletus. Usually, children found one mushroom under a tree, but sometimes there were three or four small mushrooms nearby.
When the guys were already heading to the path leading out of the forest, they found about a dozen large white mushrooms, which are considered the most valuable and delicious forest mushrooms. They usually grow in well-lit areas, in places where coniferous trees predominate. Having filled the baskets, the children sat down to rest on a stump. Suddenly they saw that the grass was moving right in front of them. Take a closer look - and this is a gray hedgehog! The prickly forest dweller busily rustled the foliage and, sniffing the air, looked for something in the grass. The boys leaned over and held out their hands to him. The hedgehog sneezed funny, then, frightened, curled up into a ball and froze. The children laughed and moved on. Do not disturb the animal, because he is at home.
To successfully write an essay on the theme “Autumn Forest”, feel the special atmosphere reigning there.
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