Mowing
admin | 11 Ноя 2012
They got up early, before sunrise for mowing. The grass still bathed in dew ... Milk-white fog melted ... There was a smell of morning freshness. Meadow, much looked like a field, but uneven, passed into the tiny patch of forest. Red bramble like red drops was burning in the grass ... young boletus hiding around clumps. Vladimir sat on an old fallen tree and waited for the mowing start. Time passed since that memorable winter's arrival to the orphanage. Now, his subconscious fear of the unknown was gone. And now this unknown place - the orphanage for the children of “enemies of the people” which broke the usual family […]