My Native Land
There are many beautiful places in the world I would like to visit and to see my own eyes those ones which I have read or heard about. But I completely agree with the English proverb “There is no place like home’.
I am a happy girl, because I live in a wonderful place Shatura, a small native land, dear to my heart.
I love its modest beauty. And if you only knew how beautiful my native place is in different seasons! I think that only here one can see motley grass, bright paints of flower beds and meadows in summer. In autumn it’s multicolored, simply charming. In winter it is filled with magic and poetry. And of course, spring…. There is plenty of light, greens, flowers and fragrance.
Only here I feel my inseparable ties with Russia which is especially sharp when I go away.
New places always attract us. I don`t know what about you, but I always feel myself comfortless when I leave Shatura.
My home is not only my native town; it’s also a small village Felisovo in our region. In Shatura I was born, here I go to school, hang out with my friends. I love my town, but nevertheless I always look forward to every moment I can visit the dearest person for me – my grandmother. On the way I imagine myself going upstairs of our old house, which keeps the memory of my ancestors and my first steps. I open the door and hear: “Hello, granddaughter, darling!” Then we drink tea under my lovely apple-tree (which is the same age as I) talking by grunting cockerel.
I hurry to the nearest coppice to visit my “girl-friends”. Here they are my sweet birches. They see me, nod their curly heads, greeting. Here I have a favourite glade. There are always flowers in summer and mushrooms in autumn there. It`s great to lie on the grass, looking into the blue – blue sky dreaming. I dream that my birches will stay here forever. I wish my native people were healthy for many years. I dream that my own children could see this beauty, feel their link with nature, native land.
In the evening I come back home, have a cup of country milk with granny’s pies. Again and again I listen to grandma`s stories about her life, not an easy one. Then I go to bed and fast asleep on my favourite sofa – the couch of my childhood.
At night I fall asleep to the songs of the cricket which has become almost a member of our family, and in the morning I wake up being absolutely happy. Finally, I am at home…