Every person should have a place where he or she wants and can always return. Where century-old fir trees that he or she remembers from a childhood, are still standing, where butterflies dance around from dawn to dusk, where a familiar stream still runs and plays with colored pebbles. Yellow-red-brown forests are the watercolors of September, aquamarine waters of October rivers which are tired and quieted down after summer, the first frost of November with ringing icicles and frost needles. And finally, snow, snow, snow … lulling ridges and valleys, meadows and lakes, bringing them sweet winter dreams.
Seasons — change of colors, sounds, smells, rhythms, moods of the Earth. The magical eternal cycle of life, created by nature. Every time when the annual cycle is completed and the clock for a second freezes on the number 12, we know that the arrow will rush further. We are sure that spring will come and everything will start over again: birds will start singing again, timid leaves will open up on the trees, rivers will wake up, and the first storm will rinse the renewed world. Nature is traditional, and this is her charm. That is why we are so attracted by the never-ending ball of the seasons.
And you want not only to come back again and again and contemplate the nature’s miracles, but at least for a moment, become a musician, a poet or an artist to work with nature, to save the cherished places admired since childhood.
Protect Kok-Zhailau!
