Description of snowfall in an artistic style with adverbs. Essay on the topic: "Snowfall"

Theme description: The first really heavy snowfall, snow lies everywhere, covering the entire street with a snow-white blanket.

The magic of snowfall.

Why is it often said that winter is a fabulous time of year? Maybe because other seasons come gradually? Somehow the snow melts imperceptibly, and the leaves gradually begin to turn green in the spring. Then everything turns into the summer heat, and then slowly nature fades, autumn comes. And then, one fine day you open your eyes, look out the window and see: winter has begun overnight. At night, while everyone was sleeping, it was snowing. The snow covered everything with a white shiny carpet and transformed the earth, as if in a fairy tale.

Or, for example, you go to school in the morning through the autumn slush, your mood is gloomy and sad. And you go out to go home - and the snow begins to swirl. Huge cold flakes of snow fly in the air, as if magically. They fall on your face and hands and melt, and it’s so nice! It's cold though. By the time you get to the house, there will be whole snowdrifts. This is how you leave the house in the fall, and come home in the winter. You walk through the snow - and it creaks so cheerfully and fervently under your feet, it seems that this crunch is magical and you feel like you are in a fairy tale. Walking through fresh snow, getting stuck in snowdrifts, even falling into them is a real pleasure. And it doesn’t bother me at all that snowflakes fall down the collar and melt there.

Sometimes the snow falls in grains, as if someone had scattered semolina in the sky. The round little balls even bounce when they hit the ground. And with a rustle they knock on the jacket from dense material. And the flakes fall silently, smoothly, as if dancing in the air. And the most beautiful snow is snowflakes. You will never get tired of looking at them. One will fall on your mitten and you look at it, counting its miniature branches until it melts with your breath. Snowflakes never repeat each other, and at the same time they are so beautiful, gentle, amazing.

Yes, winter magical time year, fabulous. It decorates everything - cities, villages, forests, fields. Other seasons have any colors at their disposal. Winter has only one color - the color of snow. But how great winter takes advantage of it. One snowfall - and everything looks different, festive, refreshed. Snowfall renews, revives. Everything after a snowfall looks solemn and majestic, all the dirt is covered and hidden, the sun shines on the surface of the snow cover.

And if it starts to snow in the evening, then even better - you can go out into the yard before nightfall and see how beautiful the snow is falling in the electric light street lamps. Although we all know that snowfall is a common natural phenomenon characteristic of cold winter, we can’t shake the feeling of a fairy tale when snow falls.

worked, went to the seashore, and I and the old woman Izergil remained under the thick shadow of the vines and, lying on the ground, were silent, watching the silhouettes of those people who went to the sea melt in the blue darkness of the night. They walked, sang and laughed; men - bronze, with lush, black mustaches and thick shoulder-length curls, in short jackets and wide trousers; women and girls are cheerful, flexible, with dark blue eyes, also bronze. Their hair, silky and black, was loose, the wind, warm and light, played with it, and tinkled the coins woven into it. The wind flowed in a wide, even wave, but sometimes it seemed to jump over something invisible and, giving rise to a strong gust, blew the women’s hair into fantastic manes that billowed around their heads. This made women strange and fabulous. They moved farther and farther from us, and night and fantasy dressed them more and more beautifully. Someone was playing the violin... a girl sang in a soft contralto voice, laughter was heard... The air was saturated with the pungent smell of the sea and the fatty fumes of the earth, which shortly before evening was heavily moistened by rain. Even now, fragments of clouds wandered across the sky, lush, of strange shapes and colors, here soft, like puffs of smoke, gray and ash-blue, there sharp, like fragments of rocks, matte black or brown. Between them, dark blue patches of sky, decorated with golden specks of stars, sparkled tenderly. All this - sounds and smells, clouds and people - was strangely beautiful and sad, it seemed like the beginning of a wonderful fairy tale. And everything seemed to stop growing, dying; the noise of the voices faded away, moving away and degenerating into sad sighs. “Why didn’t you go with them?” – old woman Izergil asked, nodding her head. Time had bent her in half, her once black eyes were dull and watery. Her dry voice sounded strange, it crunched, as if the old woman was speaking with bones. “I don’t want to,” I answered her. “Uh!.. you Russians will be born old.” Everyone is gloomy, like demons... Our girls are afraid of you... But you are young and strong... The moon has risen. Her disk was large, blood-red, she seemed to have emerged from the depths of this steppe, which in its lifetime had absorbed so much human flesh and drunk blood, which is probably why it became so fat and generous. Lace shadows from the leaves fell on us, and the old woman and I were covered with them like a net. Over the steppe, to the left of us, the shadows of clouds, saturated with the blue radiance of the moon, floated, they became more transparent and lighter. “Look, there goes Larra!” I looked where the old woman was pointing with her trembling hand with crooked fingers, and I saw: shadows floated there, their there were many, and one of them, darker and denser than the others, swam faster and lower than the sisters - she fell from a piece of cloud that floated closer to the ground than the others, and faster than them. - There's no one there! - I said. “You are more blind than me, old woman.” Look, there, the dark one, running through the steppe! I looked again and again saw nothing but a shadow. “It’s a shadow!” Why do you call her Larra? – Because it’s him. He has now become like a shadow - it’s time! He lives for thousands of years, the sun dried his body, blood and bones, and the wind scattered them. This is what God can do to a man for pride!.. – Tell me how it was! - I asked the old woman, feeling ahead of me one of the glorious fairy tales written in the steppes. And she told me this tale. “Many thousands of years have passed since this happened. Far across the sea, at sunrise, there is a country big river, in that country, every tree leaf and grass stem provides as much shade as a person needs to hide in it from the sun, which is brutally hot there. What a generous land in that country! A powerful tribe of people lived there, they grazed herds and hunted for They spent their strength and courage on animals, feasted after the hunt, sang songs and played with the girls. Once, during the feast, one of them, black-haired and tender as the night, was carried away by an eagle, descending from the sky. The arrows the men shot at him fell, pitiful, back to the ground. Then they went to look for the girl, but they didn’t find her. And they forgot about her, just as they forget about everything on earth.” The old woman sighed and fell silent. Her creaky voice sounded as if all forgotten centuries were grumbling, embodied in her chest as shadows of memories. The sea quietly echoed the beginning of one of the ancient legends that, perhaps, were created on its shores. “But twenty years later she herself came, exhausted, withered, and with her was a young man, handsome and strong, like she herself twenty years ago. And when they asked her where she was, she said that the eagle took her to the mountains and lived with her there as with his wife. Here is his son, but his father is no longer there; when he began to weaken, he rose high into the sky for the last time and, folding his wings, fell heavily from there onto the sharp ledges of the mountain, crashing to death on them... Everyone looked in surprise at the son of the eagle and saw that he was no better than them, only his eyes his were cold and proud, like the king of birds.,
Write out Sentences with adverbs, no more than 10 sentences

Describe in artistic style snowfall using adverbs

Answers:

I looked out the window and was delighted! Flocks of white moths swirled in the air. They either soared high, high into the sky, or fell down like a whirlwind. I couldn’t resist, opened the window and began to catch them in my palm. I wondered how such small snowflakes could turn my yard into the kingdom of the Snow Queen in just one night? Hide all the gray colors under a sparkling blanket. I can't wait another second. Hurry up to the yard!

Answers:

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