Hairy collarbone

The old grasses in the forest are ironed: yesterday they were under the snow. But the birch bark is already loosening the birch litter. A peduncle is rapidly making its way out of the rosette of its withered last year's leaves. Its vertical arrow is a glorious sign of spring. This thin stalk is covered with down. Where would he come from? It is the most delicate to the touch, it seems to be brought from birds' nests. Warmer than a jet! But this fluff is secreted by the plant itself. How does he do it? No one will tell. Pull one, the other a fiber of fluff — they will move away freely, they have no connection with the plant anywhere. It's as if they were really brought in from the outside, and not isolated from the depths of the earth. Mysterious. As someone's hand wrapped the stem. The concern is understandable: in the morning, the earth is rejuvenated — sometimes it's all silvered with frost.

At the top of the peduncles is a wonderful pinch of buds: they are cone—shaped, brown, with white seams. And they are also covered with fluff. Under a magnifying glass, it looks so much like a bird laying. Well, this is indeed a kind of nest: the side leaves are rounded off by a wall, and on the bottom lies the cherished future of ozhiki. The brown shells will hatch soon. And the wings of the petals will flap the first flowers of life.

Ojika's flower is unique and fantastic. It's brown, even pitch-black in color. A rare color for plants. And to emphasize this rarity, ojika surrounded each brown petal with a white border, as if she had retouched them, given them a frame and a frame. It turned out beautifully and original.

As soon as the bushes opened, snow began to fall. I love this strange sight: snowfall over primrose grasses. The inflorescence of ojika is like an openwork net.

Ojika flowers are like snowflakes with the opposite sign: they are reflected in a fairy—tale mirror that turns opposites into each other. The dead, crystalline becomes alive, animate. A hexagonal snowflake turns into a six-petalled flower. Of course, such a direct transition is possible only in a fairy tale. But what is a fairy tale if not a metaphorical condensation of reality?

The proportions of this flower are unusual: excessively large stamens rise above the small pitch-brown perianth. Under a magnifying glass, they look like columns — pale green in color, as if carved from translucent onyx. They stand in a symmetrically closed circle. And in the middle of this amazing rotunda there is a tall, low mast with three narrow pennants on top. It's a pestle.

The color of the perianth of this herb is mysterious. Apparently, ojika does not expect to be noticed by insects. In matters of pollination, she relies entirely on the services of the wind. Therefore, she does not need bright colors. But usually, in wind-pollinated plants, the perianth disappears almost or completely! Here, the structure of the flower has not undergone much change. Only the coloring is downright paradoxical for flowers.

It's a chilly little plant — it doesn't wrap itself in fluff for nothing. Perhaps it has turned its perianth into a kind of reflector? Black, darkened, absorbs heat better. Due to the parabolic bend of the perianth, thermal energy is directed to the most fragile organs of the flower. And without calculations, it is clear — the three-feathered tip of the pistil is just in the focus of the brown mirror. 1xbet प्रोमो कोड