The plains of Siberia.

The Plains of Siberia

Being over two years in the United States I have gotten used to its culture, traditions, and people. This country has become a endorsement home for me, but I lead never draw a blank my motherland. I always remember the time when I was a little child. I would spend my summer holidays at my grandmothers in the Russian countryside in West Siberia. The place was surrounded with good-looking scenery. Thick cedar forests would suddenly turn into a blessed and bright meadow with lovely let on and vivid flowers whispering in the wind. Numerous small lakes would reflect the bright sun.

I will never for convey the beauty of Siberian plains. Its one of those rargonfied corners on the Earth where nature decided to show everything it was competent of. I frequently return to this place in my imagination. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My lungs are alter with the clean and pure air, a noticeable swop from the thick and polluted air of the outside world. The light summer breeze, coming down through the trees, feels warm upon my face and is filled with the sweet smell of the tall cheerful grass. The blue put away is filled with scattered puffy, white like cotton clouds. indulgent green hills surround me. I dont know where they begin or where they end.



Far into the distance I can see an addicted wooden farmhouse. I am alone with only my thoughts and emotions to obtain me company.

Clusters of bright yellow sunflowers are growing amidst the green prairie grass. I pick a sunflower and take pleasure in its sweet fragrance. I pull each soft hitchhike off and toss it into the wind.

As I walk, the thick green prairie grass tickles my legs. Huge brown grasshoppers jump left and...

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