A story from life with a frame. Sea of Azov
One day during the week, my grandmother came to visit us from the village. She brought with her many gifts: home-baked bread (there is nothing tastier and more aromatic in the world), home-made milk and sour cream, home-made chicken eggs with frightening orange yolks, ringing apples and, for me, warm knitted socks for the winter.
When my grandmother comes, I always cancel everything and sit at home with her. Neither my parents nor my friends understand me. And I like that the smell of a heated house emanates from my grandmother, and for some reason her clothes smell of herbs at any time of the year, her short-cropped hair is saturated with the aromas of the winds, and her skin, like a baby’s, smells of milk.
“I won’t go to school today,” she said decisively.
I, already dreaming about how I would manage the farm with my grandmother
kitchen.
Mom and Dad tried to convince me:
“Go to school,” said my mother, “while waiting, the day will fly by faster and you will return home sooner...
“An impossible generation,” dad interrupted her, “if they want, they study, if they don’t want, they play truant!” In our time, school was a temple, and we studied with joy.
“Go to work, kids, and my granddaughter and I will figure it out ourselves,” the grandmother concluded.
The lock clicked and the parents left.
Do you want me to tell you how I studied? - asked the grandmother.
Of course,” I was delighted, knowing what a great storyteller she is.
“It was in the thirties, now the last century,” the grandmother began. - It was a hard, hungry time.
As you know, there were six children in our family. My brother Alexey and I were the oldest. We wore our clothes carefully, so that when we grew up, the youngest had something to wear. We ate everything, right down to the tops; sometimes Alyosha refused the stew in favor of the younger ones. We were all malnourished, but especially Alyosha. And the winter that year turned out to be harsh and snowy. Our village was small, ten yardsfifteen, and six kilometers away, through the forest, was located
a larger village, and there was a school there. Alyosha and I studied there. We left the house, dawn had not yet broken, we returned home - it was dark, you were afraid of losing your way.
So, our Alyosha fell ill, caught a cold and was also malnourished.
He came down with a fever and is delirious. But I have to go to school, alone and through the forest.
Came out I out of the hut, the frost immediately gripped me, it didn’t allow me to breathe, my hands and face were burning. I'm walking through the forest, only the creak of my steps can be heard. Dark, quiet. It's creepy for me. And suddenly I hear someone sneaking behind me. I look around - there is no one. I go further, the creaking is heard again. Then, after some time, to my delight, the sun came out and it became brighter. The creaking is closer, someone is catching up. I look around... and I can’t believe my eyes. Wolves! I stopped and they looked looking at me with hungry, thin, scary eyes. run, I think it’s impossible, they’ll tear me to pieces and I can’t stand, I’ll freeze. I pressed my back against the pine tree, I don’t know what to do. And they surrounded me, about eight of them, grinning, baring their fangs and closing a ring around me. Well, I think this is the end of me has arrived. Suddenly I hear a cart coming from our side, and fast so, and the wolves raised their fur, growling and getting closer and closer.
Finally, a horse flew out onto the road, almost overturned the cart, its eyes were crazy, it smelled wolves. Our neighbor, Uncle Kandyba, saw me, grabbed his gun and started shooting at the wolves. But they are hungry, and cannot leave, and are afraid of shots. Kandyba dispersed them. Look, you saved me! He took me to school, and the wolves ran after the cart through the forest for a long time. So, granddaughter, while Alyosha was sick, I went to school myself. I was afraid, but I didn’t miss a single day.
I listened to my grandmother’s story and thought: how much courage that little girl had and what a terrible time it was.
Grandma, smiling, looked at me carefully, and I began to get ready for school.
Every vacation for several years, my Kiev friend Galina lives at our dacha, in a village near the Sea of Azov. In the morning it goes ashore and returns in the late afternoon.
She loves the sea very much. All winter she dreams of coming here, where her grandparents once lived, and her parents brought her and her brother for the whole summer.
Today my friend came from the sea earlier than usual. I see that her mood is not the same as usual, cheerful, thoughtful.
Galina, what happened?
Nothing like anything special, but an unpleasant aftertaste from one meeting on the shore.
I'll tell you now.
The sea today is extraordinary: the water is clear, clean, there are no waves, although, you know, I love them too.
I go ashore. No one except one subject standing near the water. The fact that he is dressed too flashily for our coast can be seen from a kilometer away. Everything is clearly new, expensive, branded. Well, oh well, whoever wants and can, looks like that.
So here it is. I go ashore and sit on my favorite boulder, convenient for lying down and sunbathing on it. The dandy comes up to me:
Sorry, madam, I have been watching you for more than one day. (Lies, I think. You were never here).
You are a good swimmer. Live here?
No, I'm on vacation.
In this outback? This swamp, where there are no fish, I think
At these words of his, I involuntarily shuddered. Swamp! This is my favorite sea - swamp!
“Sit down,” I said rather impolitely. She showed him the stone nearby.
He sat down hastily. Delighted:
-Do you want to meet me? My name is Kirill.
“I don’t want to get to know you,” I again involuntarily answered rudely. “I want to tell you a little about this, as you called it, swamp.”
So know that in terms of the number of plant and animal organisms it has no equal in the world.
It is home to 103 species and subspecies of fish from 75 genera.
And in terms of the number of fish per unit area, it is 6.5 times greater
The Caspian Sea, 40 times the Black Sea, 160 times the Mediterranean.
Yes, it is the shallowest sea in the world: the greatest depth is about 14 meters.
But the air above it is saturated with iodine and bromine ions. And a natural seascape
the most exotic on the entire planet.
People are the main enemies of this sea. During the 20th century, many rivers stopped flowing here because dams were built on them.
At the beginning of each summer, fish kills are announced because huge factories on the shore dump waste into it.
About 15 years ago there were a lot of dolphins. Now they are gone. They fell into poachers' nets and died.
I didn’t have time to tell him much yet: apparently his companion came down to the shore. He jumped up, mumbled something like gratitude for the lecture and quickly walked towards her.
I did not observe their further actions - they left the shore, I could hear him saying something to her stormily, but in an ingratiating tone.
Having told all this, Galina remained thoughtfully silent for some time. I was silent too, because it’s all about the sea and I know and also worry that no one cares about it. Or there is, but I don’t know these people. I really hope that different parties and societies, for example, the Green Party or Greenpeace itself, will pay attention to our wonderful Sea of Azov...
Reviews
A good story and a feeling caused me resentment and a state of bewilderment. And this guy is negative with his flirting and brand new clothes. I really wanted to call it something ugly, but our trouble is not in it, but in the fact that the Azov Sea rarely touches anyone’s heart anymore. We are accustomed to the ugliness with its complete diversity in relation to the sea and rivers and the reforms of school and our own entrances, but we live and want to show off with gallantry and concern for what is happening. But I feel sorry for the dolphins, and I somehow felt ashamed. Good approach to the topic and written simply. I invite you to my page, with respect, Nikolai Simonov.
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It was Sunday morning when my grandmother and I, loaded with bags, were returning home from the market. We chose the road through the park - it was a little longer, but incomparably more pleasant than the short path through high-rise buildings.
It was still very early, and there was a sunny and solemn silence in the park, into which the sounds of awakening nature were harmoniously woven: the ringing chirping of birds, the cautious rustling of leaves. Curly maples, as if in a parade, lined the alley and, as we passed, showered us with a greenish-golden rain of ripened seeds - “airplanes”. The sun's rays piercing the dense crowns of trees seemed like transparent, golden columns filled with busy dragonflies and midges.
Slowly, my grandmother and I were walking along the road, when suddenly, from around the bend, we heard a measured tapping sound, as if someone was quietly hitting the asphalt with a stick. A few seconds later Nikolai Fedorovich came out to meet us with his guide dog. The blind man walked thoughtfully and leisurely. Tall, fit, with wide shoulders. His entire proud posture spoke of military bearing. There was no expression of helplessness on the old man's face, which often betrays those with poor vision. The face was not motionless, like many blind people. An ordinary calm face with wrinkles near the eyes.
Nikolai Fedorovich was the first to greet us, calling his grandmother by name. How he guessed that it was us is beyond comprehension!
The rescuer has gone,” my grandmother said when we separated.
Grandma, is his last name - Rescuer? - I was surprised, remembering that many of our neighbors spoke like that about the blind man.
No, grandson. People called him that for one reason. After that he remained blind.
Grandma, tell me quickly, what is this matter?
Well, listen. Throughout the war, fate was kind to Nikolai Fedorovich. And he was on the front line, and took Berlin, and returned home safe and sound. Some neighbors, whose husbands or sons remained forever in a foreign land, envied him.
And Nikolai is a jack of all trades. He helped many people back then: he fixed equipment, repaired furniture, dealt with electricity. One day Nikolai Fedorovich was walking past the school, and there the kids started a fire and were throwing something into the fire. Nikolai’s heart sank, he ran up to the boys - and they scattered. They dug up the shells somewhere, and now it means they wanted to blow them up. The tomboys knew how it could end. Well, the boys ran away, and Nikolai got it for them. That means he saved them, but he, the poor fellow, was left without eyes. This is how life works out, grandson...
The parents of those children thanked their savior for a long time. They wrote a letter to Moscow asking for treatment. Yes, they were never able to restore Nikolai Fedorovich’s sight. And the nickname stuck, as they called it.
Grandma fell silent, and I stopped asking questions. The park ended, pedestrians began to come towards us. Everyone went about their business, enjoying the wonderful sunny morning. And in my ears there was still the sound of the blind man’s cane and the quiet breathing of the guide dog.
The great poet used images of storms in the literal and figurative sense more than once in his works, for example, in the poem “Storm”, “Winter Evening”, “Cloud” and others. The principles of reflecting nature in Pushkin's lyrics are constantly changing depending on the evolution of the artistic method. This means that each period of the poet’s work is characterized by its own characteristics of perception and methods of translating the landscape into a lyrical poem. The philosophical meaning of A. S. Pushkin’s poem “Cloud” is that the author shows that nature and man are inextricably linked. In late poetry, the rapture of the rebellious beauty of sensual passions disappears, the dark clouds and blizzards of vain earthly anxieties disappear. Nature is cleansed and renewed in stormy weather - the soul is resurrected in admiration of the beauty and harmony of the surrounding world. In the poem "Cloud" (1835), Pushkin joyfully welcomes this harmony, this spiritual enlightenment. Epithets do not denote color (which is what we are used to in poems about nature) - but an internal state - a sad shadow, a jubilant day, calm skies, greedy earth. The animation of the cloud appears not only in the clear landscape-symbolic character of the poem, but also in the presence of personifications: you are sad, the wind is driving you, you watered the earth, introducing into the landscape miniature an element of philosophical reflection on life
One day during the week, my grandmother came to visit us from the village. She brought with her many gifts: home-baked bread (there is nothing tastier and more aromatic in the world), home-made milk and sour cream, home-made chicken eggs with frightening orange yolks, ringing apples and, for me, warm knitted socks for the winter.
When my grandmother comes, I always cancel everything and sit at home with her. Neither my parents nor my friends understand me. And I like that the smell of a heated house emanates from my grandmother, and for some reason her clothes smell of herbs at any time of the year, her short-cropped hair is saturated with the aromas of the winds, and her skin, like a baby’s, smells of milk.
“I won’t go to school today,” I said decisively, already dreaming of how I would manage the kitchen with my grandmother.
Mom and Dad tried to convince me:
“Go to school,” said my mother, “while waiting, the day will fly by faster and you’ll return home sooner...
“The impossible generation,” dad interrupted her, “if they want, they study, if they don’t want, they play truant!” In our time, school was a temple, and we studied with joy.
- Go to work, kids, while my granddaughter and I
“We’ll figure it out ourselves,” the grandmother concluded.
The lock clicked and the parents left.
- Do you want me to tell you how I studied? - asked
grandmother.
“Of course,” I was delighted, knowing what a great storyteller she is.
“It was in the thirties, now of the last century,” the grandmother began. “It was a hard, hungry time. As you know, there were six children in our family. My brother Alexey and I were the oldest. We wore our clothes carefully, so that when we grew up, the youngest had something to wear. We ate everything, right down to the tops; sometimes Alyosha refused the stew in favor of the younger ones. We were all malnourished, but especially Alyosha. And the winter that year turned out to be harsh and snowy. Our village was small, about ten to fifteen yards, and six kilometers away, through the forest, there was a larger village, and there was a school there, Alyosha and I studied in it. We left the house, dawn had not yet broken, we returned home - it was dark, you were afraid of losing your way. So, our Alyosha fell ill, caught a cold and was also malnourished. He came down with a fever and is delirious. But I have to go to school, alone and through the forest.
I left the hut, the frost immediately gripped me, it didn’t let me breathe, my hands and face were burning. I'm walking through the forest, only the creak of my steps can be heard. Dark, quiet. It's creepy for me. And suddenly I hear someone sneaking behind me. I look around - there is no one. I go further, the creaking is heard again. Then, after some time, to my delight, the sun came out and it became brighter. The creaking is closer, someone is catching up. I look around... and I can’t believe my eyes. Wolves! I stopped, and they looked at me with hungry eyes, thin, scary. I think I can’t run, they’ll tear me to pieces, and I can’t stand, I’ll freeze. I pressed my back against the pine tree, I don’t know what to do. And they surrounded me, about eight of them, grinning, baring their fangs and closing a ring around me. Well, I think my end has come. Suddenly I hear a cart coming from our direction, and so fast, and the wolves have raised their fur, growling and getting closer and closer.
Finally, a horse flew out onto the road, almost overturned the cart, its eyes were crazy, it smelled wolves. Our neighbor, Uncle Kandyba, saw me, grabbed his gun and started shooting at the wolves. But they are hungry, and cannot leave, and are afraid of shots. Kandyba dispersed them. Look, you saved me! He took me to school, and the wolves ran after the cart through the forest for a long time. So, granddaughter, while Alyosha was sick, I went to school myself. I was afraid, but I didn’t miss a single day.
I listened to my grandmother’s story and thought: how much courage that little girl had and what a terrible time it was.
Grandma, smiling, looked at me carefully, and I began to get ready for school.
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