SPRING PRELUDE

We were preparing for this trip, we studied the history of the region. Mchadisjvari - a mysterious village, through which pass the road to the Dusheti - administrative center of district, which in May 1829 visited A. Pushkin:

"During of those former time! ..

You knew me, the Caucasus,

More than once, you called me

In your very deaf sanctuary

I was in love with you, as crazy

And you welcomed me noisily

With decuman voice of  storms ... "

The village is located a few kilometers from the lake Bazaleti. The village has a fortress, historically belonged to powerful Aragvian princes of the late feudal Georgia, which led a relentless struggle against the feudal lords who lived in the neighborhood and often decided important questions of of kings succession in Georgia. This castle has repeatedly precipitated warlike Avars from Dagestan, but could not occupy. The ancient temple adjacent to the fortress, which looks orphaned - it lost its priest long time ago. Now it is the abode of wild pigeons and winds. Pigeons settled in the dome of the temple. They are not used to people and unfriendly meet us, with noise swept over our heads. We approach to the only surviving mural with the image of Queen Tamara, we light candles and lips involuntarily whisper the prayer ... In the temple gradually begin to reign the silence. A pair of pigeons sat down in a niche above the church fresco and is watching us intently. Then they begin to chirrup, like as continue our prayer ... The origin of the village and the church name is associated with the following legend: during the next enemy invasion the priest of the church of St. Archangels hide the cross in the corn tortillas, which he lowered into the well, located in the apse of the sanctuary of the church.

We peaceful are leaving the temple. Before us views of the neighborhood. We are located at an altitude of 800 m above sea level. Excavations have shown that in this rural areas, people lived back in the early Bronze Age. In the hazy distance you can see the mountain range of Caucasus, at the bottom of a narrow ribbon winds Narekvavi River - the right tributary of the Aragvi, timid deer came down to the river to drink. The crystal clear air is saturated with the scent of medicinal herbs. We are adjusted for the lyrical mood, and read aloud to Pushkin:

"On the hills of Georgia is laying night darkness;

In front of me is making noise Aragvi ... "

A stone's throw from us is meadow,which is flaming by bright red color - it's blooming poppies. They are Impatiens. From whence so many them here? Maybe it is a reminder of past battles? Shaggy bumblebee does daily flyby of the meadow, ants started a commotion in the grass ...

We lie down on this magnificent carpet, we fasten our glance into infinity celestial dome. Clouds float past us - the eternal wanderers, they have such strange form, may be they are the materialized souls of people? High in the sky is flies a proud eagle, the owner of the mountain peaks. Life overflows in the variety of its forms. We feel that our souls are merged into this single hymn to life ... And we quietly continue:

"And the heart again burns and loves ,

Because not to love, it can not. "

We will cherish this sacred fire!