Russia is... AUTUMN

To begin with ...and to be unusual... Russia is ... autumn. In Russian it is ОСЕНЬ (osen')

Sounds strange, n'est-ce pas? Let me explain.
Autumn is Russia is particularly beautiful. Not many countries are so lucky to feel all the beauty of this season. What is it for Russians?
1) it's a beautiful season. When the trees turn orange - оранжевый, yellow - желтый, red - красный. It is not so hot already, but not yet cold. Harvest, fresh air and blue sky of September, even rain of October. 'There is no bad weather, only bad clothes', this is what we use to say.

2) it helps us to feel the connection between nature and people. We use to say that the spring is the MORNING of our lives, summer is our DAY, autumn is our DUSK, winter is our EVENING.
And if you want to experience the feeling of 'waiting of spring' - you should spend winter in Russia. It's an incredible feeling, as happy as you when you were waiting for the presents in you childhood.

3) It is the muse to many Russian poets (autumn-poem), musicians, artists etc...

Sergey Esenin

The grove of golden trees has fallen silent,      Отговорила роща золотая
Shorn of its gay leaves, in mute silhouette,     Березовым, веселым языком,
And so the cranes in sad file past it flying       И журавли, печально пролетая,
Have no cause any more to feel regret.           Уж не жалеют больше ни о ком.

For whom, for what? We are all rovers, starting  Кого жалеть? Ведь каждый в мире странник - 

Out, coming home awhile, then traveling on.      Пройдет, зайдет и вновь оставит дом.
The hemp field's dreaming of all who departed    Пройдет, зайдет и вновь оставит дом.
And there's a full moon gazing at the pond.        С широким месяцем над голубым прудом.

I stand alone, the bare expanses viewing,         Стою один среди равнины голой,
While on the wind the cranes are borne away.   А журавлей относит ветер в даль,
Remembrance of my merry youth pursuing,      Я полон дум о юности веселой,
I find nothing I would relive today.                    Но ничего в прошедшем мне не жаль.  more 

Alexander Pushkin

Октябрь уж наступил - уж роща отряхает    October has arrived - the woods have tossed
Последние листы с нагих своих ветвей;      Their final leaves from naked branches;
Дохнул осенний хлад - дорога промерзает. A breath of autumn chill - the road begins to freeze,

Журча еще бежит за мельницу ручей,          The stream still murmurs as it passes by the mill,

Но пруд уже застыл; сосед мой поспешает The pond, however's frozen; and my neighbor hastens

В отъезжие поля с охотою своей,                 to his far-flung fields with all the members of his hunt.

И страждут озими от бешеной забавы,        The winter wheat will suffer from this wild fun,

И будит лай собак уснувшие дубравы.        And baying hounds awake the slumbering groves.

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