Before thunderstorm (2021) 絵画 Yulia Zhdanovich (MiliArt) によって

During the spring break, however, as well as on the summer and on any other, my parents drove me and my younger sister to my grandmother in the village. And rushing along the bumpy dirt road, I watched from the window at the bright yellow seas, swaying under the mighty hands of the wind. They looked as deep as any sea. Strong, like any element. Endless, like any field. I buried my forehead in the glass of the car and just floated along the thin isthmus, between the raging rapeseed fields. It's amazing what power this earth has if it is capable of cultivating such a pulsating beauty in one field. There are probably a million small flowers in one meadow. So much life that feeds on the juices of the earth and quickly stretches up!

Historians know that the birthplace of rapeseed is England and Holland, from which it spread to Germany, Poland, and Ukraine in the 16th century. But my history is shorter than the world one, and therefore for me these yellow fields have always been a sign of my country, village, little and beloved grandmother, barking dogs before going to bed, the light of coals from the stove, the smell of manure and the cries of a rooster in the morning.

Have you ever been caught in the first spring rain? Finding yourself in a field in the midst of a thunderstorm? Hear close peals of thunder and see the flashing lightning in the stormy sky? These impressions remain for a long time - frightening and exciting at the same time, captivating with the breath of spring that has come into its own. A spring thunderstorm is not at all like a summer or autumn thunderstorm. This is a very special phenomenon.

A moment, and now the former carelessness is gone. Clouds are falling, everything around is getting dark. The sky turns from welcoming blue to formidable and heavy.In the distance, it appears almost black. Lightning is about to cut the sky, and on the other side - another. And, as if directly overhead, thunder will strike. It will ring out like a sudden shot, and, rolling through the fields, reluctantly subside somewhere beyond the horizon. Immediately, as if in response to him, another rumble would be heard from somewhere in the distance. The rumbling sounds grow and die down, resuming again and going into the distance. It's getting scary. You are no longer the crown of nature, you are any mortal organism. For a moment, everything subsides. No thunder or wind noise is heard. The leaves froze in the trees in anticipation of something, the voices of the birds fell silent. A blade of grass moved, a small bird chirped somewhere. My face smelled like a breeze, but not that warm and gentle. The air smelled fresh and slightly chill. It will rain - the first this spring, as if someone knocked over a huge tub of water from the sky. Solid wall. The echoes of thunder are becoming less frequent and fainter. And suddenly everything stopped, as suddenly as it began.

We arrived. Grandmother kisses and hugs her with sinewy slender arms. Hello granddaughter, I miss you so much.

関連テーマ

Acrylic PaintingCloudscapePainting SkyThunderstormLandscape