A little man with a fingernail (excerpt from the poem “Peasant Children”) Once, in the cold winter season, I came out of the forest; it was bitterly cold. I see a horse slowly ascending the mountain, carrying a cart of brushwood. And, walking importantly, in decorous calm, a peasant leads the horse by the bridle.

“It shines merrily...” (excerpt from the poem “ Winter night in the village") The moon shines merrily over the village; White snow sparkles with a blue light. The temple of God is bathed in the rays of the moon; The cross under the clouds burns like a candle. Empty, lonely Sleepy village; The huts were swept deep by the blizzards. Silence

The third road The path of Tom the sleepwalker is a flight from the world of reality. Love and madness are just separating parts of that multi-stage rocket, with the help of which he breaks the bonds of gravity, breaks away from misfortunes and worries. Tom in the ballad is the leader of the army of violent

ON THE. Nekrasov: “Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air invigorates tired forces."

It's the beginning of September.
Autumn comes into its own, sneaks up unnoticed and penetrates the city squares and streets and parks. This is especially felt in the morning.
You go outside and see the first fallen yellow leaves under your feet. Of course, from mid-August they begin to turn golden gray on the trees, especially on birches, but everyone thinks that this is not true, because it is still summer outside. And now you look and understand: yes, autumn has come.
I don’t know why, but I fell in love with morning walks and even jogging. Now I enjoy the autumn melancholy, which gives me more strength and energy than summer. Paradox)))
There was one verse that I really like, although it’s about August. Its meaning is that when you live in a village, you notice all the signs and changes in nature. The city is depressing, and apparently that’s why you want to run away from it. And autumn intensifies this desire.
E. Bondareva
He will still pass through steppes and groves,
He will taste the berries in the forest,
Resounds with good songs,
Drinks ripe dew from the leaves.
He will get lost in the fields, forgotten
And he will fall into a deep, childish sleep.
He’ll get up in the morning and won’t stop looking at it
The bins are filled with grain.
Simple, without any special mark,
August appeared in the yard.
They wouldn't even notice him in the city,
If it weren't for the page on the calendar.

So I live in a large metropolis, I don’t notice a thing, and for many years I have been dreaming of getting out into nature, into the forest, into a field, onto a lake, to take a walk in quiet solitude, to think about life, to heal my wounds, to stop and look back.

Many people, not just me, now want to sit alone with nature, be silent, look at it, and let it look at you.

But listen to Paustovsky’s words about autumn!

Paustovsky "Distant Years"
“It was already September. Dusk was approaching. Anyone who has not seen the Kyiv autumn will never understand the tender charm of these hours.
The first star lights up in the heights. Autumn lush gardens silently wait for the night, knowing that the stars will definitely fall to the ground and the gardens will catch these stars, like in a hammock, in the thick of their foliage and lower them to the ground so carefully that no one in the city will even wake up or know about it. »

A month ago, my husband and I turned off the Internet and throughout August I didn’t know how to fill the information space.

I read newspapers and magazines in the evenings, and then I discovered the most curious thing for myself - in Okey (a chain of stores) there is a rack at the entrance where you can take any book you like or leave your own, which is no longer needed. And thanks to this book circulation, I came into contact with those books that under other circumstances would never have fallen into my hands. Not because they are not my format, but simply on the Internet there is so much stuff that makes my eyes run wild that it is no longer up to Soviet old books.

I took a book to Okay "You and me"(young family library 1988). This is a somewhat naive book for newlyweds, about love, about family life.

(Paustovsky and Prishvin are two Russian classics that we studied at school. They wrote a lot about nature).

So, at first I glanced through these letters, then I stopped and began to read.

Paustovsky went to the wilderness for inspiration, to the Ryazan region, or rather to Solotcha. And so he writes beautiful letters to his beloved Tatyana. About how he loves her more life etc.

I look at the date - May 1945... It would seem that these letters should be filled military theme, the jubilation of victory, but there is no hint... One love, one feeling of the inner state of the soul. Somewhere I read a phrase a couple of years ago that In Leningrad there lived a couple in love who did not notice the Blockade. Maybe a real Leningrader who lived through the siege will not like this statement, but it seems very meaningful to me.

“It’s four o’clock in the morning, dead silence, only the clock is knocking... On the evening of September 24, I left for Solotcha. I didn't want to stay in Moscow. I wanted solitude - deaf, complete.

I received it beyond measure. I live alone in an empty, abandoned house... Endless cold nights... And all the nights for some reason Sologub’s poems do not leave my memory: “You can’t see a thing in the field. Someone is calling: “Help!” What can I do? I myself am poor, I am mortally tired - how can I help?... The garden outside the windows is already falling with rain, but there are still some small touching flowers left. Here's one of them. AND autumn leaves. This is not sentiment at all. You don’t have our autumn there... It’s three o’clock in the morning. Darkness, wind. I went out into the garden, it was deaf and scary, there were only huge stars in the black sky and fallen leaves rustling under my feet.”

In my opinion, leaving the city and staying on such an “island” with yourself is wonderful!

“On the third day I sent you a second telegram. Then I went into the meadows beyond the old riverbed of the Oka, to the so-called “Island”. (For God’s sake, don’t stop reading the letter at this point; it will be interesting later.) The island is huge, it is surrounded on all sides by water, the Oka River and its old riverbed. It was sunny, a blue day, and there was frost in the shadows. And since I kept thinking about one sweet woman who is now so far away, I wandered until dusk. In the evening I approached the old riverbed and saw that there was no bridge, it was flooded and water was rapidly flowing a meter above it. Then only I found out that on the Oka, in connection with the end of navigation, all the locks were opened and the usual began here late autumn second Oka spill. The water was rising before our eyes, I was alone on the island, it was far from Solotcha. It got dark, clouds gathered, the wind blew up, and thick snow began to fall. And there wasn’t a single haystack nearby. And it was freezing cold. And I realized that I had gotten myself into a very bad situation. And I thought about you all the time. Fortunately, I had matches, I hardly lit a fire, it was noticed from a distance in the evening from the other shore, and the red-haired peasant Lyukhin came for me in a canoe in the darkness and storm. He told me: “It’s a trump card that I noticed you, otherwise by morning the whole island will definitely flood.”

In the morning I looked out of the mezzanine windows - gray Oka water was flowing in waves where the island had been, and in hindsight I became scared. How can one not think about the strangeness of life.”

How reverently he spoke about his third wife Tatyana: " Tenderness, my only person, I swear on my life that such love (without boasting) has never existed in the world. It never was and never will be, all other love is nonsense and nonsense. Let your heart beat calmly and happily, my heart! We will all be happy, everyone! I know and believe... “Probably only in nature such inspired thoughts, stories, images are born. In the city it is difficult to concentrate and write anything.

I often replace trips out of town with a good book (because going out of town is much harder than taking a book off the shelf). But now, while your daughter is little, you don’t really honor her. Therefore, looking back, I want to remember what books I liked, so that someday I could re-read them with my daughters.

First of all, I remember in the fall the story of Leonid Andreev “Bite”. I read it as a child and it stuck with me. It seems to me that it is useful for children to read this, it helps to form in them pity and compassion for our smaller brothers.

( A dog living in an empty country house sees only bad things from people all its life. The owners arrive at the dacha. The dog gets used to them, but in the fall they leave, leaving her alone again).

Platonov’s story “Cow” also seems to me to be autumnal, but this is a completely hopeless story, so I won’t talk about it here. I just think it needs to be read as a classic someday. At school, I think we took Platonov in 7th grade and this story shocked me.

And of course, autumn means Prishvin and my favorite “Pantry of the Sun”. About two independent brothers and sister. My brother fell into a swamp and almost died, but everything ended well.

While I was looking for an illustration, I found a wonderful painting by Inessa Rakhmanova “Pantry of the Sun”.

Prishvin has many short stories about the seasons, in particular about autumn.

“Short stories about the nature of the autumn season by Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin in the form of notes convey that touching mood of romance and pleasant sadness that hovers in nature in the fall. The first yellow leaves, the wonderful time of golden autumn and the onset of cold weather, the events through which autumn nature passes, lovingly described in lines by the writer of Russian nature.”

Vitaly Bianchi, Garin-Mikhailovsky and many others also wrote about nature.

Of course autumn mood is conveyed to me in Astafiev’s prose, but there is less lyricism here And more adventures.

Particularly colorful pictures of nature in the film “Taiga Tale” (based on the work of Astafiev). Akimka comes to nature, to spend the winter in a small house, and there lies a dying city girl. Akimka got her out, but it took more than one month. And there are no medicines or help around... mother taiga...

In any case, autumn is the time of dreams, you want more warmth and love. “The colder and more hopeless the darkness outside, the more comfortable the warm soft light in the apartment seems. And if summer is the time to run away from home towards unfulfilled dreams, then late autumn is the time to return.” © Al Quotion

Zheleznaya road

Slavnaya osen! Zdorovy, yadreny
Vozdukh ustalye sily bodrit;
Led neokrepshy na rechke studenoy
Slovno kak tayushchy sakhar lezhit;

Okolo lesa, kak v myagkoy posteli,
Vyspatsya mozhno - pokoy i prostor!
Listya pobleknut yeshche ne uspeli,
Zhelty i svezhi lezhat, like carpet.

Slavnaya osen! Frosty nights,
Yasnye, tikhiye dni.
Net bezobrazya v prirode! I kochi,
I mokhovye bolota, i pni -

Everything khorosho pod sianiyem lunnym,
Vsyudu rodimuyu Rus uznayu.
Bystro lechu ya po relsam chugunnym,
Dumayu dumu svoyu.

;tktpyfz ljhjuf

Ckfdyfz jctym! Pljhjdsq, zlhtysq
Djple[ ecnfkst cbks ,jlhbn;
Ktl ytjrhtgibq yf htxrt cneltyjq
Ckjdyj rfr nf/obq cf)