The bright March sun ,which feels warm now, has set over the horizon, but there are still snow drifts around and blue-purple shadows on the snow tell us that the winter does not want to go away. Jazz spreads in the evening air and its vibrations in the light frost reverberate in the ears and on the fingertips which aren’t covered by mittens any more. The tree blends with the figure of a man and from the outside it seems that she (he) has wings. No one knows who this musician is, where this tune is coming from and why he has appeared in the Ural snows, but it has happened. Miracles happen, they only need to be noticed in time.