I do not really like winter because of the cold weather. But there is something interesting in it - this is a night blizzard. It seems to be nothing special is that a long winter night a strong wind is blowing, the snow is rising in clubs. But for me it's real magic. As an industrious mistress, a blizzard sweeps the snow, transforming the streets trampled for the day into a clean white linen. Wake up in the morning, look out the window - and freeze in admiration.
And I like to listen to the howl of the blizzard. On such nights you feel especially comfortable. Outside it's cold and windy, and you're lying in a cozy bed, you're warm and well. Sometimes it seems that the blizzard is not just the sounds of wind gusts, but the winter's attempt to create its own unique melody.
Listen - and as if the song sounds, and then the sound is replaced and another piece of music begins. It is no accident that many composers were inspired by howls of a blizzard. For example, I really like Georgy Sviridov's work The Snowstorm. For me, there is no more accurate transmission of the waltzing sounds of a night-time winter blizzard than this. You can even quietly include this work during a night blizzard to see how, as if obeying the clock of a waltz, the snow is spinning.
One day a blizzard came on New Year's Eve, when we went out into the street to light fireworks. We were pleased with the salute, and then stood for a long time and admired the heaps of snow in the air.
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A blizzard seemed to rejoice grateful audience, all increasing the pace and showing us their miracles. The only negative of such a spectacle is very cold. Yes, and behind the noise of the New Year's salutes, it was impossible to hear the unique songs of the blizzard.
A night blizzard causes delight. Carefully leveling the snow blanket of the earth and singing its lullaby, it gives all living sweet dreams. Sometimes on such nights I walk briefly to the window and watch the night blizzard work. I like to see how the yard is being transformed, how the boundaries between the paths and the flowerbeds that have fallen asleep for the winter are blurred. Of course, this is unlikely to be liked by janitors, who at the dawn will have to put snow on the roadside. And then you go to bed and listen to the lulling melodies of the blizzard.
They say that nature has no bad weather. So I think, every winter admiring the night blizzard. She does not cease to amaze me, because she never repeats herself, each time singing new melodies and demonstrating new figures of waltz from the purest white snow clubs. I think I will always love to fall asleep under her lullaby and childish joy, as the winter courtyard changes, waking up in the morning and coming to the window.
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