Читать книгу The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame - Страница 3

The Mole worked very hard all morning, cleaning his little home. He brushed, and he washed; he cleaned the floors and the walls, he stood on chairs to wash the tops of cupboards, he got under the beds, he took up the carpets. He cleaned and he cleaned, until his arms and his back ached with tiredness.

It was springtime, and the smell and the sound of spring were everywhere, even in the Mole’s dark little house under the ground. And with the spring comes the promise of change, of sunshine, of new green leaves. So it was not surprising that the Mole suddenly put down his brushes and said, ‘Oh bother!’ and then, ‘I’m tired of cleaning!’ Something up above the ground was calling to him, and he ran out of his house and began to dig his way upwards to the sun.

He dug and he pushed, and he pushed and he dug. ‘Up we go! Up we go!’ he said to himself, until at last his nose came out into the sunlight, and he found himself in the warm grass of a field.

‘This is fine!’ said the Mole. ‘This is better than cleaning!’ The sunshine was warm on his back and the air was filled with the songs of birds. He gave a little jump for happiness, shook himself, and then began to cross the field towards some trees. Here and there he went, through the fields and the woods, looking and smelling and listening. Everywhere animals and birds were busy, talking and laughing, looking for food, making new homes for the spring. The Mole enjoyed it all.