Drawing for the story glass pond. glass pond

Glass Pond (Drawings by Tatyana Mavrina)

In this book you will see bright pictures and read short stories.

Usually it happens like this: the writer wrote a story - the artist makes a drawing for it. Sometimes it turns out the opposite: the artist made a drawing - the writer composes a story for him.

With this book, everything happened unexpectedly.

Tatyana Mavrina painted without thinking about stories. She herself talked about what she saw, but in her own language - the language of lines, colors.

Yuri Koval walked along the forest roads, spent the night by the fire and, returning home, wrote down what he saw.

At different times, by chance, without saying a word, they lived in the same village, wandered along the banks of the same river. And it so happened that the artist and the writer were talking about one thing - about spring birches, about butterflies and rooks, about the Big Dipper.

These drawings and stories can live separately, on their own.

But together they have more fun.

And so this book was born.

For preschool age

Yuri Iosifovich Koval

Tatyana Alekseevna Mavrina

Publishing House "Children's Literature" 1978

glass pond

In the village of Vlasovo, I heard, there is a glass pond.

“Probably, the water in it is very transparent,” I thought. “Algae and tadpoles are visible. We should go and see."

I got ready and went to the village of Vlasovo. I'm coming. I see two grandmothers sitting on a bench near the pond, geese grazing nearby. I looked into the water - muddy. No glass, nothing to see.

What is it, - I say to the grandmothers, - a glass pond, and the water is muddy.

How is it so muddy?! We, uncle, have water in the pond like glass.

Where is the glass? Tea with milk.

It can't be, - the grandmothers say and look into the pond. - What is it, the truth is muddy ... We don't know, uncle, what happened. There is no more transparent pond in the world than ours. He feeds on underground keys.

Wait, - one grandmother guessed, - but the horses were swimming in it now, they muddied the water. You then come.

I went around the whole village of Vlasovo, returned, and three tractor drivers were diving in the pond.

Late, late! - Grandmas shout. - These are what he likes to muddy the glass, cleaner than horses. You come early in the morning.

The next morning, at sunrise, I went to the village of Vlasovo. It was still very early, fog was creeping over the water, and there was no one on the shore. Cloudy, like dark lamp glass, the pond glimmered through wisps of fog.

And when the sun rose and the fog dissipated along the banks, the water in the pond brightened up. Through its thickness, as through a magnifying glass, I saw the sand at the bottom, along which newts were crawling.

And farther from the shore, pimply algae stirred at the bottom, and sparks flashed behind them in the thick depths - small carp. And quite deep down, in the middle of the pond, where the bottom turned into an abyss, a crooked copper dish suddenly flashed dully. It was a mirror carp turning lazily in the water.

Invisible

Crunch, crunch ... - the snow crunched under the window, and I woke up.

Someone came to the house.

I stood up, waiting for a knock on the door. Again I heard: a crunch, a crunch ... Someone moved away from the window without knocking.

I got up and looked out into the street. There was no one - snow, the moon over the dark bell tower.

He lay down and began to doze, when suddenly - crunch, crunch - someone again walked around the house. I ran to the window and saw no one.

All night someone walked around the house, crunching the snow, but did not knock on the door.

“It must be a ferret,” I thought. “Okay, in the morning I’ll find out who it is by the tracks.”

But in the morning I didn’t find any traces, and when I saw rooks on the road, I realized that it was early spring that walked under the windows and crunched, the snow that had melted during the day sagged under her light steps.

The moon has risen. Ahead, like an earring, the river Sezha flashed. Lapwings were crying over Sezha.

In the light of the moon I saw the figure of a hunter. He walked along the shore, with difficulty tearing his legs out of the muddy earth. He had a wide-legged hat on his head and a basket in his hand. A duck quacked softly in it.

Hey! I called amiably. The hunter froze in place. Apparently, he was afraid. He listened and remained silent.

Hey! - I shouted again, coming up.

- "Hey"! .. - the hunter mimicked me with displeasure. - Well, aren't there more words in the Russian language? All "hey" yes "hey" ...

Mumbling something unhappily, he walked past me without stopping.

Cloud and jackdaws

In the village of Tarakanovo, the horse Tuchka lives, red as fire. She is loved by jackdaws.

In the village of Vlasovo, I heard, there is a glass pond.
“Probably, the water in it is very transparent,” I thought. “Algae and tadpoles are visible. We should go and see."
I got ready and went to the village of Vlasovo. I'm coming. I see two grandmothers sitting on a bench near the pond, geese grazing nearby. I looked into the water - muddy. No glass, nothing to see.
- What is it, - I say to the grandmothers, - a glass pond, and the water is muddy.
-How is it so muddy?! We, uncle, have water in the pond like a piece of glass.
-Where is the glass? Tea with milk.
“It can’t be,” the grandmothers say and look into the pond. “What is it, the truth is muddy ... We don’t know, uncle, what happened.” There is no more transparent pond in the world than ours. He feeds on underground keys.
“Wait,” one grandmother guessed, “but the horses were swimming in it now, muddying the water. You then come.
I went around the whole village of Vlasovo, returned, and three tractor drivers were diving in the pond.

Late, late! - Grandmas shout. - These are what he likes to muddy the glass, cleaner than horses. You come early in the morning.
The next morning, at sunrise, I went to the village of Vlasovo. It was still very early, over the water

The fog rolled in, and there was no one on the shore. Cloudy, like dark lamp glass, the pond glimmered through wisps of fog.
And when the sun rose and the fog dissipated along the banks, the water in the pond brightened up. Through its thickness, as through a magnifying glass, I saw the sand at the bottom, along which the newts were crawling.
And farther from the shore, pimply algae stirred at the bottom, and sparks flashed behind them in the thick depths - small carp. And quite deep down, in the middle of the pond, where the bottom turned into an abyss, a crooked copper dish suddenly flashed dully. It was a mirror carp turning lazily in the water.

glass pond

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Current page: 1 (total book has 1 pages)

Glass Pond (Drawings by Tatyana Mavrina)

In this book you will see bright pictures and read short stories.

Usually it happens like this: the writer wrote a story - the artist makes a drawing for it. Sometimes it turns out the opposite: the artist made a drawing - the writer composes a story for him.

With this book, everything happened unexpectedly.

Tatyana Mavrina painted without thinking about stories. She herself talked about what she saw, but in her own language - the language of lines, colors.

Yuri Koval walked along the forest roads, spent the night by the fire and, returning home, wrote down what he saw.

These drawings and stories can live separately, on their own.

But together they have more fun.

And so this book was born.

For preschool age

Yuri Iosifovich Koval

Tatyana Alekseevna Mavrina

Publishing House "Children's Literature" 1978

glass pond

In the village of Vlasovo, I heard, there is a glass pond.

“Probably, the water in it is very transparent,” I thought. “Algae and tadpoles are visible. We should go and see."

I got ready and went to the village of Vlasovo. I'm coming. I see two grandmothers sitting on a bench near the pond, geese grazing nearby. I looked into the water - muddy. No glass, nothing to see.

“What is this,” I say to the grandmothers, “a glass pond, and the water is muddy.

– How is it so muddy?! We, uncle, have water in the pond like glass.

-Where is the glass? Tea with milk.

“It can’t be,” the grandmothers say and look into the pond. “What is it, the truth is muddy ... We don’t know, uncle, what happened.” There is no more transparent pond in the world than ours. He feeds on underground keys.

“Wait,” one grandmother guessed, “but the horses were swimming in it now, muddying the water. You then come.

I went around the whole village of Vlasovo, returned, and three tractor drivers were diving in the pond.

- Late, late! - the grandmas shout. - These are what he likes to muddy the glass, cleaner than horses. You come early in the morning.

Invisible

Crunch, crunch ... - the snow crunched under the window, and I woke up.

Someone came to the house.

I stood up, waiting for a knock on the door. Again I heard: a crunch, a crunch ... Someone moved away from the window without knocking.

I got up and looked out into the street. There was no one - snow, the moon over the dark bell tower.

I lay down and began to doze, when suddenly - crunch, crunch - someone again walked around the house. I ran to the window and saw no one.

All night someone walked around the house, crunching the snow, but did not knock on the door.

“It must be a ferret,” I thought. “Okay, in the morning I’ll find out who it is by the tracks.”

Hey

The moon has risen. Ahead, like an earring, the river Sezha flashed. Lapwings were crying over Sezha.

-Hey! I called amiably. The hunter froze in place. Apparently, he was afraid. He listened and remained silent.

“Hey!” I shouted again, coming up.

– “Hey!”.. – the hunter imitated me with displeasure. – Well, aren't there more words in the Russian language? All "hey" yes "hey" ...

Mumbling something unhappily, he walked past me without stopping.

Cloud and jackdaws

In the village of Tarakanovo, the horse Tuchka lives, red as fire. She is loved by jackdaws.

Jackdaws do not pay attention to other horses, and as soon as they see Cloud, they immediately sit on her back and begin to pluck her hair.

“Her wool is warm, like that of a camel,” says the carrier Agathon. “I would knit socks from this wool.”

Jumping jackdaws wide back, and the cloud is snoring, it is pleasant to her how the jackdaws are pinched. The wool itself climbs, every now and then you have to itch against the fence. Having gained a full beak of warmth, the jackdaws fly under the roof, into the nest. Cloud horse is peaceful. She never kicks. Carrier Agathon is also a kind person. He looks thoughtfully at the horse's tail. If some impudent jackdaw had landed on his head, he probably would not have blinked an eye.

in birches

Wet birch forest. Drops of mist flow from the bare branches, falling dully to the ground.

Behind the dark birch trees, I saw a red spot - and slowly, inaudibly, an orange horse came out to the edge of the forest. She was so bright, as if she had absorbed all the power of autumn.

Fallen leaves sighed under her steps. Astride a horse sat a man in a padded jacket, in boots.

The horse passed by, disappeared into the depths of the forest, and I realized that winter was coming...

I don’t know why, this meeting has been in my head all day. I remembered the orange horse carrying the remnants of autumn into the depths of the forest, and in the end I even began to doubt: did I even see her at all? Or invented?

But of course, I saw a man in a padded jacket. It was the driver Agathon, with whom we take a bath every Thursday.

Bouquet

I entered the house and stood on the threshold. A lake of milk spilled across the floor. Shards of cups, a bottle, spoons lay around him. - Who is here?! Who the hell is here! Everything in the room was upside down. Only the bouquet stood on the table whole and unharmed. In the midst of the rout, he looked somehow impudent.

It seemed that this bouquet was to blame for everything. I looked under the stove, looked at the stove - there was no one on the stove, under the stove, in the closet, or under the table. And under the bed, I found a can, from which a snow-white stream flowed, turning into a lake.

Suddenly it seemed - someone is watching! And then I realized that it was a bouquet looking at me.

The bouquet - sunflowers, tansy, cornflowers - looked at me with impudent green eyes.

I didn’t have time to figure anything out, when suddenly the whole bouquet shook, the jug flew to the floor, and some black, unprecedented flower arched its back, waved its tail and jumped straight from the table into the window.

Oak trees

Autumn has come.

Birches and aspens flared up. Only oaks, like green islands, stood in the middle of the forest.

Autumn is over. Fallen leaves. The forest turned black and gloomy. Only the oaks shone in it like islands of old gold.

Winter did not come for a long time, and when it came, there was not even a leaf left on the trees. Rusted, thinned oak leaves and still kept on the branches until spring.

In the spring, the buds burst on the birches, the wolf's bast blossomed, and the old leaves rustled on the branches of the oak.

Like the islands of last year's autumn, oaks stood in the midst of a new spring forest.

Warm wind

A damp wind blew across the village all day. He lifted from the road, twisted last year's leaves in the air, hay dust - small debris left over from winter.

I walked through the village, and my cloak flapped under the gusts of wind, rolled up with a crack, squeaked. Motes whipped across the face, twisted in the hair and twitched there like living bees.

Clouds crowded over the village, crowded in one place, opening narrow blue wells in the sky.

Sunny fluff curled along the edges of these bottomless wells.

After the storm

The last lightning cut the cloud with a saber blow - the sun's rays, wet from the rain, poured onto the ground, and towards them a lark flew up from the field and sang so loudly that a seven-stringed rainbow echoed in the sky.

On the back of the drawing, the artist Tatyana Mavrina wrote the words of an old folk song:

In the puddles

in the puddles

Azure flowers bloomed.

The raspberry perfume has gone.

Pan

There is a bay on the Sestra River, which is called Skovoroda.

You are sailing in a boat along a narrow channel - it seems to be Skovoroda's handle - and suddenly you swim out into the bay, small, but so round, as if someone had deliberately rounded its shores.

The water here is black and smoky. Water lilies and capsules, large as tea cups, seem dazzling.

Girls in red dresses stir up hay on the bank. Dragonflies ring above them; Grasshoppers jump out from under their feet like a fan, butterflies take off, flutter near the very face, whisper something in their ear.

A grasshopper gapes, jumps into the water - and then a dark funnel spins on the water, a black-headed chub strikes with its tail.

A bream is kept in a deep hole at the bottom in the middle of the Skovoroda.

It is difficult to catch bream. He does not look at the grasshopper, he does not need a dragonfly.

Bream loves semolina.

In the evening, a fire flares up on the shore of the bay. Skovoroda is getting dark in its round banks, and high above the river a huge bucket hangs in the sky - Ursa Major.

Ryabova Olga Ivanovna,

primary school teacher
MAOU "Secondary School No. 1"

Naberezhnye Chelny

Subject: Literary reading.

Class: 2.

Lesson topic: Extracurricular reading. Sergei Obraztsov "Glass Pond".

Type of lesson: acquaintance with a new work.

Target: achievement of educational results through the technology of productive reading E.V. Buneeva and O.V. Chindilova.

Tasks:

Improve subject skills:

Predict the content of the text by title, illustration;

Determine the genre of the work, its theme;

Understand the meaning of the read text;

Answer questions about the content;

Create your own text based on a work of art.

2. Form UUD:

- predict the result; make a reflective assessment(Regulatory UUD);

- consciously build a speech statement; extract the necessary information(Cognitive UUD);

- to ask questions(Communicative UUD);

Equipment:

Textbook “Literary reading. 2nd grade. Authors: L.F. Klimanova, V.G. Goretsky pp. 37 – 39

Presentation about Sergey Obraztsov

Annex 1 (at the teacher)

Annex 2 (for each student)

During the classes.

Work with text before reading

(8 min)

1. Anticipation (content prediction)

Open your textbooks and read the title of the work that we will read today.

What time of year will this piece be about?

Explain your answer.

If opinions differ:

Our opinions are divided.

If at a loss, help ask a question.

The question is written on the board.

Why is this not a poem?

The question is written on the board.

2. Goal setting

Look at the blackboard. What questionswe want get an answer? Read them again.

Glass pond.

Possible answers:

About autumn.

About winter.

Possible answers:

- About autumn, because we read poems and stories about autumn, the picture shows autumn (leaves on trees of different colors).

About winter, because the glass pond (covered with ice) happens in winter.

What season is this piece about?

Possible answers:

Story.

Fairy tale.

No rhyme, not written in a column.

- Is this a story or a fairy tale?

Read the questions on the board in unison.

Predict the content of the text by title, illustration.

Determine the genre of the work

Predict the result(Regulatory UUD).

Working with text while reading (10 min)

1. Reading the text using techniques: "dialogue with the author" and commented reading.

Organizes work with the text: comments and conducts a "dialogue with the author" (Appendix 1).

2. General conversation

Answer the questions in full sentences:

- What season is this piece about?

Name the signs of autumn that are mentioned in the text.

- What genre did we read the work: a story or a fairy tale? Explain your answer in a complete sentence.

They listen to the text, follow the course of reading, enter into a “dialogue with the author”.

This is a story about autumn.

The frogs hibernate, the pond freezes.

- We have read the story. There are no fairy-tale characters here, animals do not talk, the events are real.

Understand the meaning of the text.

Answer questions about content.

Determine the genre of the work.

To ask questions(Communicative UUD).

Predict the result(Regulatory UUD).

(Cognitive UUD).

Working with text after reading (20 minutes)

1. Definition of the theme of the work

What did the author mainly want to talk about? Choose the correct statement:

1. About how geese walk on the pond.

2. About frogs.

3. About how nature prepares for winter.

4. About the glass pond.

The statements are written on the board.

2 . Selective reading

1) - In the test we read about frogs.

What have you learned about them?

Let's read this episode again. Find it in the text.

Whom could the frogs see, lying at the bottom of the pond under the ice?

Find this passage in the text.

3 . Creative task

- Try to write a short story (3-5 sentences) about what the frogs could think, lying at the bottom.

- At home, I suggest that you, together with your parents, draw up, and then write on your own story on the theme "A walk in the autumn forest (park)."

Distributes leaflets with the task and evaluation criteria for this story:

Mark "5" forcontentis set if the following conditions are met:
1. The story is written on behalf of the student.
2. The story describes autumn nature.
3. The story has at least 6 sentences.
4. The story is author's, not written off from a book or the Internet.

4. Story about the writer (using presentation).

Complete the task orally.

Different opinions are possible.

frogs have bloodalways the same temperature as the air or water they are in.

They could see the goose.

One student reads a piece of text.

2 minutes perform the task on their own. Then willing students (2-3 people) voice their stories.

Determine the theme of the piece.

Create your own text based on a work of art.

Create your own text.

Extract the necessary information(Cognitive UUD).

Consciously construct a speech statement(Cognitive UUD).

Reflection (7 min)

What book have you read today?

If students do not say, suggest reading on page 37.

What questions did this book help us answer?

What have we learned to do today?

- Use the table to rate yourself.

Raise your hand, who can determine the genre of the work.

And who can do it with the help of a teacher?

Likewise for other skills.

- Glass pond.

Sergey Obraztsov.

Call (or read) questions.

Put "+" in one of the levels.

Perform reflective evaluation(Regulatory UUD).

ANNEX 1.

Sergey Obraztsov

glass pond

I went to the pond and saw a real miracle.

The sun is golden, the sky is blue, the grass on the shore is green, and the pond is glass. Ice. As if among the greenery a large motionless mirror lies.

(What surprised the hero? That the pond is covered with people, and the sun and green grass are shining. Could this be? When can this be? autumn, The sun is no longer very warm, frost at night.)

When I went to this pond to swim in the summer, I always threw flat pebbles along the water. You throw a stone - it flies over the water, then it hits the water, jumps, flies a little more, hits again and jumps again, flies again and jumps again, and so five or six times, or even more. Then it slips right into the water and drowns.

(Whoever threw flat pebbles like that in the summer, raise your hands. And how many times did your pebble bounce?) Don't talk for a long time.

And now there is no water. One ice. I wonder if the pebble will jump now or not? (What do you think? What can happen to the stone? Let's check

our guesses.)

I chose the flattest one and threw it with all my might along the ice. He flew almost to the middle of the pond, hit the ice with a ringing, jumped high,

Well, of course, I began to throw pebble after pebble, and they rangbooming ( , With

glassy sound, as if I were playing some musical instrument.

I look and through the ice I see how the frogs prepared to winter at the very bottom.

Just like fish, frogscold-blooded. ( What question would you like to ask the author? Why are frogs called that? What do you think? Let's find the answer to this question in the text.) Their blood is always the same temperature as the air or water they are in. . And what would cold water no matter what, they don't care.

For the winter, they are laid on the bottom of a river or pond. Their blood becomes colder and colder, their heart beats less and less. They no longer need food. And you don't even need to breathe. There is always the same oxygen in water as in air. And it gets into their blood through the skin.

Two groups of frogs, which I saw through the ice at the very bottom, climbed under the rotten leaves, clung to each other and lay almost motionless. They lie neatly, as if someone laid them. And they are not completely frozen yet: either one frog will move its paw, then another will crawl a little.

Suddenly I hear: "Ha, ha, ha, ha." It's the geese screaming. They go down the hill on the green grass. They go in a chain. Two large, thick ones in front, and six thinner ones in the back. Probably mother and father and adult children. They go to the pond. Come up. Two big ones stepped onto the ice, stopped and fell silent. The children also stopped and were also silent. The big goose thumped the ice with its beak, and then everyone began to cackle again and hurried onto the ice. They slap their paws on glass ice - probably they can’t understand why there is no water. They dispersed across the pond. The big goose stopped right above the place where the frogs had accumulated at the bottom. And he began to knock on the ice with his beak. For the first time, probably, in his life. How many frogs he sees at once and cannot catch a single one.

The geese left in the same white chain. Climb up the greenslope (hillside), all the time talking about something "Ha, ha, ha, ha."(What could the geese talk about? Why is there no water, why is everything frozen? Or that autumn has come and you need to fly to warmer climes.)

And I was left sitting on a stump. It was very good! The sun warmed my shoulders a little, and the sky and all the air were so transparent, as if they were also made of glass. Like a pond.

APPENDIX 2

Good morning, dear colleagues!

We start the work of the pedagogical workshop

Glass Pond (Drawings by Tatyana Mavrina)

In this book you will see bright pictures and read short stories.

Usually it happens like this: the writer wrote a story - the artist makes a drawing for it. Sometimes it turns out the opposite: the artist made a drawing - the writer composes a story for him.

With this book, everything happened unexpectedly.

Tatyana Mavrina painted without thinking about stories. She herself talked about what she saw, but in her own language - the language of lines, colors.

Yuri Koval walked along the forest roads, spent the night by the fire and, returning home, wrote down what he saw.

These drawings and stories can live separately, on their own.

But together they have more fun.

And so this book was born.

For preschool age

Yuri Iosifovich Koval

Tatyana Alekseevna Mavrina

Publishing House "Children's Literature" 1978

glass pond

In the village of Vlasovo, I heard, there is a glass pond.

“Probably, the water in it is very transparent,” I thought. “Algae and tadpoles are visible. We should go and see."

I got ready and went to the village of Vlasovo. I'm coming. I see two grandmothers sitting on a bench near the pond, geese grazing nearby. I looked into the water - muddy. No glass, nothing to see.

What is it, - I say to the grandmothers, - a glass pond, and the water is muddy.

How is it so muddy?! We, uncle, have water in the pond like glass.

Where is the glass? Tea with milk.

Wait, - one grandmother guessed, - but the horses were swimming in it now, they muddied the water. You then come.

I went around the whole village of Vlasovo, returned, and three tractor drivers were diving in the pond.

Late, late! - Grandmas shout. - These are what he likes to muddy the glass, cleaner than horses. You come early in the morning.

Invisible

Crunch, crunch ... - the snow crunched under the window, and I woke up.

Someone came to the house.

I stood up, waiting for a knock on the door. Again I heard: a crunch, a crunch ... Someone moved away from the window without knocking.

I got up and looked out into the street. There was no one - snow, the moon over the dark bell tower.

He lay down and began to doze, when suddenly - crunch, crunch - someone again walked around the house. I ran to the window and saw no one.

All night someone walked around the house, crunching the snow, but did not knock on the door.

“It must be a ferret,” I thought. “Okay, in the morning I’ll find out who it is by the tracks.”

The moon has risen. Ahead, like an earring, the river Sezha flashed. Lapwings were crying over Sezha.

Hey! I called amiably. The hunter froze in place. Apparently, he was afraid. He listened and remained silent.

Hey! - I shouted again, coming up.

- "Hey"! .. - the hunter mimicked me with displeasure. - Well, aren't there more words in the Russian language? All "hey" yes "hey" ...

Mumbling something unhappily, he walked past me without stopping.

Cloud and jackdaws

In the village of Tarakanovo, the horse Tuchka lives, red as fire. She is loved by jackdaws.

Jackdaws do not pay attention to other horses, and as soon as they see Cloud, they immediately sit on her back and begin to pluck her hair.

Her wool is warm, like that of a camel, - says the carrier Agathon. - I would knit socks from this wool.

The jackdaws are jumping on their broad backs, and Cloud is sniffing, she is pleased to see the jackdaws pinching. The wool itself climbs, every now and then you have to itch against the fence. Having gained a full beak of warmth, the jackdaws fly under the roof, into the nest. Cloud horse is peaceful. She never kicks. Carrier Agathon is also a kind person. He looks thoughtfully at the horse's tail. If some impudent jackdaw had landed on his head, he probably would not have blinked an eye.

in birches

Wet birch forest. Drops of mist flow from the bare branches, falling dully to the ground.

Behind the dark birch trees, I saw a red spot - and slowly, inaudibly, an orange horse came out to the edge of the forest. She was so bright, as if she had absorbed all the power of autumn.

Fallen leaves sighed under her steps. Astride a horse sat a man in a padded jacket, in boots.

The horse passed by, disappeared into the depths of the forest, and I realized that winter was coming...

But of course, I saw a man in a padded jacket. It was the driver Agathon, with whom we take a bath every Thursday.

Bouquet

Suddenly it seemed - someone is watching! And then I realized that it was a bouquet looking at me.

A bouquet - sunflowers, tansy, cornflowers - looked at me with impudent green eyes.

Oak trees

Autumn has come.

Birches and aspens flared up. Only oaks, like green islands, stood in the middle of the forest.

Autumn is over. Fallen leaves. The forest turned black and gloomy. Only the oaks shone in it like islands of old gold.

Winter did not come for a long time, and when it came, there was not even a leaf left on the trees. Rusted, thinned oak leaves and still kept on the branches until spring.

In the spring, the buds burst on the birches, the wolf's bast blossomed, and the old leaves rustled on the branches of the oak.

Like the islands of last year's autumn, oaks stood in the midst of a new spring forest.

Warm wind

A damp wind blew across the village all day. He lifted from the road, twisted last year's leaves in the air, hay dust - small debris left over from winter.

I walked through the village, and my cloak flapped under the gusts of wind, rolled up with a crack, squeaked. Motes whipped across the face, twisted in the hair and twitched there like living bees.

Clouds crowded over the village, crowded in one place, opening narrow blue wells in the sky.

Sunny fluff curled along the edges of these bottomless wells.

After the storm

The last lightning cut the cloud with a saber blow - the sun's rays, wet from the rain, poured onto the ground, and a lark flew up to meet them from the field and sang so loudly that a seven-string rainbow echoed in the sky.

On the back of the drawing, the artist Tatyana Mavrina wrote the words of an old folk song:

In the puddles

in the puddles

Azure flowers bloomed.

The raspberry perfume has gone.