1. In autumn, around the half-September, I sit in the birch forest. It drizzles from morning to morning, and often emits warm sunlight; this is a cloudy and sunny weather. Sometimes the sky is filled with gentle white clouds, and sometimes there are a few places that are suddenly

1. In autumn, around the half-September, I sit in the woods of birch . It drizzles from morning to morning, and often emits warm sunlight; this is a cloudy and sunny weather. Sometimes the sky is filled with gentle white clouds, and sometimes there are a few places that are suddenly cheerful for a while, with bright and lovely blue sky behind the tilted cloud heads, as if it is beautiful and smart eyes. I sat around and looked around and listened, and the leaves were clamoring on my head; this noise alone could also make people know what season it is. This is not the pleasant and ridiculous trembling sound of spring, nor the soft whispers and long tumbling sound of summer, nor the shy and cold stammering sound of late autumn, but a sleepy whisper that is not easy to hear clearly and deeply. A faint wind blew gently across the treetops. The interior of the forest wet by the rain changes continuously due to sunlight or clouds; sometimes all the light seems to suddenly smile: the thin dryness of the not-so-lucent birch tree suddenly shines with a soft brilliance like white silk, and the small leaves falling on the ground suddenly emit a fragile golden red glow, while the beautiful stems of the tall, lush phoenix tail grass have been dyed with autumn colors similar to the color of overripe grapes. It also has unlimited interactions and is reflected in front of you; sometimes everything around suddenly turns into a light blue again: the light suddenly disappears, the birch trees turn white, standing in a vague light, the white is like the newly falling snow that has not been illuminated by the cold light of winter

0 days ago;—So the extremely fine rain secretly spreads down cunningly, making a whispering sound. Although the leaves on the birch trees are obviously pale, they are almost all green; there are only a few places where there are a tender leaf that is fully red and gold. When the sun suddenly slips in through the dense net of the newly washed branches by the bright rain and it is brightly flaming brightly in the sunlight, and the scene is very beautiful.

——〔Russia〕Turgenev《Trying》