Napoleon’s plans were, but life is different and this time went one.
And yet dark night, it can be a self-portrait, especially liked the fir paws, bend down to the ground with snow.
Timer load quickly or slowly I moved, but turn around to face the audience, do not have time. And that, too, is not a bad photo turned out. We call it «A curtain». Spreading the curtain, and behind it we are waiting for a wonderful winter, frosty denёk.
Thaw and pour on top of pow made a huge deal. Walk was great. You can go on all four sides of the road are not choosing, however, it is better not to get into the rubble, well and still there had been a couple of mistakes that greatly diminished Silushka.
Stories know about the huge flocks of black grouse, capercaillie escaping from under the skis of the grouse generally silent, beckoning me farther and farther away.
But circling plots, swamps and fields, except elk fallen asleep nabrodov found nothing. Legged sit somewhere in the neighborhoods, in chepuryge, in the rubble, but there is no desire to climb there.
Embarked on a cloudless sky, the sun pleasantly warmed face shorter lyapota.
Gorgeous weather, smooth running skis are not allowed to be sad. In places where the crust is not kept, especially in plots fall through almost to the waist. The old trails have noticed, and urea look like deep trenches. This year, despite the cold weather, the water did not have time to freeze.
Well in this denёk not make a halt?
Sun quickly drew a half-circle in the sky, but where are the black grouse I have not found…
However, more of the dark expelled from the wells, first partridge, and then a couple of grouse.
But finally he raised his flock, twenty heads. They are nicely spread out in single file, and handed over the tops of birches, reluctantly, but far away. It was clear that they did not like my presence.
I found a clearing, where they spend the night.
Take out the camera, he strained hiccupped and nothing else to do but could not.
Nothing! We reach a place of intimate replacement, warmed batteries…
Again I hiccupped.
That’s it. Finally, she was frozen carcass. Sorry darling, I love you so that violence. Maybe it’s time to add to the list of things a spare camera down.
About the photo can be forgotten, but as was beautiful grouse meadow, battered hole, sitting down under the winter sun.
She got the moon. Light so that even a lamp lacking. The forest was filled with mysterious, shadows stretched. I would like to finally make a couple of lunar landscapes, but …
In short, a good day, but umotala well. In winter, for the grouse, or as otherwise.
Good luck to you!
Vadim Kashin7 February 2012 at 21:18