Title : Journey through the seasons in my small Russian city
link : Journey through the seasons in my small Russian city
Journey through the seasons in my small Russian city
[Guest post by Masha Kirikova in Korolyov, Russia]Three years passed since we moved to the little city called Korolyov. It was not easy to relax and feel its peaceful ambience at first. I invite you to follow this petite journey through the seasons, meeting our people and observing a life in its simplest form.
Hurrah! Crows are here too, they are not leaving me. I was so afraid there wouldn't be a single crow in our new place... I'm lucky – a pretty big garbage bin area is located right in front of our windows. Where there is waste there is a crow. Two crows live in our backyard, some pigeons too.
People leave things near the garbage bin hoping someone will take them home. Lamps, tables, doors and chairs, often books wait their destiny in the snow. The chair was standing, then lying, then standing again. It was moved from one backyard corner to another, covered with sparkling snow. No luck for this one. Too many days was it waiting.
Locals love to feed the birds. Some of them believe those creatures are not actually birds, but dead relatives coming from the sky. It's impolite to leave them hungry! Older people become more active. No one makes pigeon defense on the roofs, no metal pins on the windows nor on balconies. Even monuments stay bird-friendly. Surprisingly our pigeons know their manners leaving bronze Gagarin (the Soviet cosmonaut and first person to journey into outer space) fresh and untouched.
I saw two old ladies from our studio window. They sat intimately close under the blooming maple tree. Warm days invite elderly to have the first sunbath of the year. Twittering babushkas in the same style wool berets inhabit most post-Soviet cities. I already have two similar berets, keeping them from moths and waiting for my retirement.
I saw two old ladies from our studio window. They sat intimately close under the blooming maple tree. Warm days invite elderly to have the first sunbath of the year. Twittering babushkas in the same style wool berets inhabit most post-Soviet cities. I already have two similar berets, keeping them from moths and waiting for my retirement.
Our town is floating. No one can escape the pleasure of swimming. We sink into dark varnished puddles covered with yellow birch pollen. Fellow citizen is bravely jumping into the deep.
The hole is a must for each and every fence. No matter how thick is the metal, no matter how strong is the construction. Someone will choose to change the design liberating a fellow pedestrian.
The coziest part of our little city: pink bricks with white decorative elements on facades, high trees and only a few cars. Also at the city center are a music school for kids, central park, concert hall and the main square. Always busy (as busy as it could be with only 100,000 inhabitants!). I draw under the music school colonnade when rainy or snowy and enjoy boys and girls twittering after their piano lessons.
It's a snowfall again. Very romantic indeed. Unfortunately it didn't last long. Passersby float under the window. Winter holidays are near! Let's wear a pair of warm mittens and make a snowbaba. A snowbaba is our Russian version of a snowman, but a female one. As big, as soft and as puffy as a real winter lady must be.
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