Farmstead at Oblotin

Deep in the heart of the endless taiga, far away from civilization, lies a small, lonely farmstead. It consists of just a handful of weather-beaten wooden huts, their logs colored dark and moss-green by the harsh climate. An herb garden, a small pen for four sheep, a woodshed, and the small main cottage. That is all. All around, the wilderness rises like an unconquerable green wall - majestic spruces, pines, and larches that whisper softly in the wind. A single narrow footpath leads here, winding in curves around tightly packed pines. At the center of the clearing stands the main house. Particularly striking is the flat, moss-covered shingle roof that slopes gently upward, bordering directly on the masonry stone chimney. A thin thread of smoke rises from it, revealing that the stove inside is the only heat source for miles around. It smells of burning birch wood and promises cozy warmth amidst the harsh nature. Just a few steps away stands the simple, slightly decaying wooden shed. Its door hangs by only a single hinge and stands slightly ajar, keeping the dark interior completely hidden. All around these buildings stretches the wilderness. The outermost branches of the mighty larches and pines hang so low that they almost touch the backs of the huts and cast deep shadows on the edge of the clearing.