In the watercolor “Spring Tale” the radiance of the sky, the reflection of clouds in the water – everything smokes, floats in a thin colored fog, is mixed, in all – the intoxicating ease of “the morning of the year” and the memory of all of its former springs at once.
Mysteriously beautiful were the revived rivers – lilac shadows off the coast, mirror reflections. Joyful morning. Young games. Two young friends catch moths. The third picks up the bouquet and tears the petals. A light dress, like the petals of spring flowers.
A group of weeping birches with transparent long branches… The old bust of Horace, a friend of the lyrical forests, looks thoughtfully into the distance. And the distance, the park shore and the sky with spring clouds reflected in the river. The naive and simple plot is written in such a way that the spring nature is, as it were, incorporeal. There remains the vision of spring, its light ghosts, its “spirit” – the whitish steaming pair over the blue water.
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