Popov N.V. Joy of a teacher. Phenological observations // Donskoy temporary. Year 2011 S. 60-65. URL: http: //www..aspx? Art_id \u003d 715
PHENOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.
Literary drafts
Description of nature by the seasons
Spring Description - March
It was March 1969. When the spring days came, I eagerly strode along the still viscous road to the country grove.
The grove met me with the melodious murmur of a stream, rushing swiftly to a ravine lost in the thicket of bushes and trees. A muddy stream, crashing into the polluted blockages of snow, exposed its lower clean layers, and in this snow-white rim began to look surprisingly elegant.
In the depths of the grove, an open meadow is full of joyful spring hustle. Wherever you look, everywhere on the melt snow in the rays of the bright sun, silver streams gleam rhythmically. There are so many of them that it seems as if the earth itself was moving towards it. The mirror surface of the puddles scattered across the meadow glistens festively. In some places, tiny islands of thawed black earth triumphantly rise above melt snow.
And around the dark wall stands a silent forest. And in this gloomy frame, the merry glade sparkled even brighter.
See even more March descriptions by tag#March
Spring Description - April
In the first half of April, one of the first among the trees blooms dogwood. All strewn with bouquets of golden yellow flowers, it burns like a night bonfire against a dark, still exposed garden. If at this time of spring from the window of a running train you see a bright yellow tree in a flashed garden, you know - this is a dogwood blossom. A much more modest outfit is blooming a bit later birch bark and elm. Their thin branches with bundles of reddish anthers attract little attention of passers-by. And only hundreds of bees swirling around branches signal the height of flowering. Ash-tree maple blooms soon. Having scattered branches and twigs far to the sides, he densely hung green fringe from long forearm stamens with brown anthers on them. A non-Nazi and this outfit, but the bees cling to him. And not every beauty of the gardens attracts as many winged fans as an old maple. You walk past the buzzing tree and rejoice - spring!
See more April descriptions by tag#April
Spring Description - May
May came. And the calm watercolor paints of April gave way to juicy, screaming strokes of the height of spring. This is the hottest time of the year for the phenologist, especially in hot, dry springs, when the trees, shrubs, grass seem to stray from the centuries-old rhythm of the spring carnival and begin to randomly and hastily clothe themselves in expensive holiday clothes.
Golden currants still flaming frantically on the boulevards, still there is a relentless buzz of bees over jubilant cherries and fragrant bird cherry is just beginning to open its buds, as white flames soared high into the sky on impatient pears. The fire immediately spread to the neighboring apple trees and they instantly flashed a pale pink glow.
A flaming dry wind even more fanned the spring fire and a flow of rain poured onto the ground. Horse chestnut, roughly pushing aside the beautiful lilac, arrogantly stepped forward with festive torches glowing brightly among the dark foliage. Stunned by unprecedented audacity, the lilac managed to restore its shaky prestige only two days later, throwing thousands of luxurious white, cream, purple, purple bouquets to the envy of its neighbors.
See more descriptions of May by tag#May
Summer Description - June
In early June, the so-called “early summer” begins - the most intense, but also the most joyful, like a noisy holiday is the time of year, when caring for the growing offspring dominates all wildlife.
From morning till night, the bird choir does not fall silent in the steppes, groves and gardens. Thousands of dissonant singers participate in it, whistling, chirping, chirping, croaking, screeching and squeaking in every way. The air rings from loud and quiet, joyful and dreary, melodic and sharp sounds. Birds sing while standing, sitting on the fly, while resting and during the hottest time of their work day. The bird world is enveloped in such joyful excitement that the songs themselves break free.
There swallow from early morning to late evening tirelessly cuts the air in pursuit of midges for insatiable kids. Already, it would seem, not to the songs. And yet, the swallow, storming the sky, chirps something funny and carefree.
Remember how black swifts squeal with delight on the fly. What can I say! It is enough to listen at this time on the wall expanse to the loud, full of happiness trills of larks in order to feel the enthusiastic thrill of the steppe, which has captured it from edge to edge.
The bird chorus is accompanied, as they can, by field crickets, grasshoppers, bumblebees, bees, mosquitoes and mosquitoes, flies and flies and other insect rattling and buzzing countless rattles.
And at night from dawn to dawn, passionate serenades of nightingales thunder in the groves and, like an ugly echo, hundreds of frogs on the river respond to them. Sitting in rows along the edge of the water, they jealously try to shout out to each other.
But this feast of nature would not be a feast if the most ardent participation of the plant had not taken place in it. They made every effort to decorate the earth as elegantly as possible. Thousands scattered across the fields and meadows and turned into emerald carpets with fancy patterns of bright corollas of all colors of the palette.
The air is filled with the scent of wall herbs. High in the blue sky, snow-white clouds sail. The steppe feasts.
See even more June descriptions by tag#June
Summer Description - July, August
The jubilant early summer quickly passes, and by the end of June the steppe begins to fade. The worst months for the grass are coming - July, August. The sultry sun without fire and smoke almost completely incinerated the steppe vegetation. A lifeless semi-desert blew from the steppe. Not a single encouraging green spot is visible.
But in the scorched steppe still in some places the ceilings, full of extraordinary brilliance. There, on a cliff stepwise descending to a river valley, some mysterious spots whiten. But it’s hard to guess what it is. Closer, closer, and before you opens a wonderful pale pink glade, completely overgrown with short bushes of yurinei (heady). Spreading widely on the ledge of the slope, it gradually falls to the valley. The relentless bee rumble stands over thousands of pale pink bushes.
The glade is small, but it stands out so strikingly and beautifully against the background of a dull grass, that it absorbs all your attention and therefore seems huge and especially beautiful. The impression is that you are standing in the middle of a magnificent mountain meadow.
See even more descriptions of summer by tag#Summer
Autumn Description - October
October came, and with it the golden autumn, the autumn that asks for the artist’s canvas, Levitan - affectionate, thoughtfully sad, indescribably beautiful.
Autumn does not like the flashy colors of a stormy spring, a blinding daring sun, a violently rumbling thunderstorm. Autumn is all in elusive tones - soft, gentle, enchanting. She listens with quiet sorrow to the rustle of falling leaves, the silence of the forest that retires, the farewell cries of cranes in the high sky.
Shrubs give a lot of color to autumn landscapes. Different in appearance, autumn color and brightness, they motley crowd fill undergrowths and forest edges. The delicate blush of currant and the scarlet whips of wild grapes, the orange-red hawthorn and the crimson pork swine, the flaming scoopia and the blood-red barberry, skillfully interweaving in the composition of autumn paintings, enrich them with a unique play of colors on their leaves.
At the forest edge there is a slender ash tree in a beautiful raincoat from countless elusive golden-greenish halftones emitting streams of calm light. Gold-plated openwork leaves are either minted sharply on the dark bark of the trunk and branches, or, hanging in still air, seem translucent, somehow fiery and fabulous.
The high swine, all embraced by the autumn fire, moving close to the ash tree, created an incomparable play of colors - gold and purplish. On the other side of the forest beauty, a short cotoneaster skillfully decorated its leaves with pink, red and orange tones and midtones and scattered them with bizarre patterns on thin branches.
This forest picture in nature is so good that, admiring it, you feel a sense of wonderful music in your soul. Only in these unforgettable days of the year can one observe in nature such an extraordinary richness and harmony of colors, such a rich tonality, such a subtle beauty that permeates all nature, that not to visit this time in a forest or grove means to lose something very valuable and dear.
See more fall descriptions by tag#Fall
Beautiful, fabulous description of nature in winter
Not one season of the year can be compared in beauty and splendor with a snow-white elegant winter: neither a bright, cheerful, jubilant spring, nor summer, unhurried and dusty, nor bewitching autumn in farewell dresses.
Snow fell, and suddenly such a fabulously wonderful world suddenly appeared outside the window, so much captivating beauty, poetry opened in the closely watched street boulevards, squares and parks that it was impossible to sit in the room. Irresistibly pulled by my own eyes to perceive the vast milky-white dome of the sky, and the myriad of playful snowflakes streaming from above, and the newly revived trees and shrubs, and the whole transformed nature.
Winter has no brush other than white. But look at the inimitable art with which she wields this brush. Winter does not just sweep the autumn slush or the ugly traces of the erupted thaw. No, she, masterfully using the game of chiaroscuro, creates picturesque corners of the winter landscape everywhere, gives everything an unusual, artistic look.
In winter, elegant attire, you can not recognize a decrepit, clumsy apricot, or a rickety decaying hedge, or an ugly pile of garbage. In place of a faceless bush of lilacs, such a wonderful creation of the mistress-winter suddenly appeared that in admiration of him you involuntarily slow down your steps. And rightly so, you won’t immediately say when the lilac is prettier - in May or now, in winter. Just yesterday, the boulevards, which were soberly wet in the rain, today, at the whim of winter, became a festive decoration.
But the magician of winter, in addition to magical snowflakes, has one more invincible weapon in store for the conquest of human hearts - precious pearls of hoarfrost.
Billions of needles of hoarfrost turned modest squares into fabulous radiant halls that suddenly appeared at the intersections of streets. In the darkly blackened hitherto bare forests, trees, throwing fragile pearl clothes, stand like brides in wedding dresses. The restless wind, having flown on them, froze with delight on the spot.
Nothing will move in the air. Silence and silence. The kingdom of a fairy snow maiden.
The days of February are running. And here again, March is about to enter. And again, before our eyes, dozens of times we saw previously seen seasonal pictures of nature. Bored? But nature does not stamp its creations on an eternal pattern. One spring is never a copy of another, just like the rest of the seasons. This is the beauty of nature and the secret of its enchanting power.
The charm of nature’s pictures is like the charm of immortal creations of art: no matter how much we admire them, no matter how much we revel in their melodies, they do not lose their inspirational power.
The beauty of nature develops in us a noble sense of beauty, awakens the creative imagination, without which a person is a soulless machine.
More descriptions of winter, see the tag#Winter
Environmental protection and school study of local lore
It remains to say a little about nature conservation. Faithful guardian of nature - selfless love for her. The schoolchildren’s care for the school garden, floriculture, experimental work at school plots, at junate stations - all this is not enough to educate schoolchildren in a loving, careful attitude to nature, the native steppe, and the forest. In all such occupations, there is a kind of greedy beginning. The schoolchild takes care of “his” tree with love and immediately breaks the “stranger”. The schoolgirl admires the richness of forms and colors of the gladioli and peonies that she bred and does not notice wonderful glades in nature.
In the struggle for the preservation of native nature, school regional studies may be one of the most effective measures. A teacher who has become close to nature, disinterested, caring for it, unrequited, without a shadow of any sentimentality, the manifestation of joyful emotions caused by the colors of nature, native landscapes, will involuntarily slip and pass on to students on excursions, on hikes and other similar cases. Thus, the ranks of faithful environmentalists will grow stronger.
Concluding my narrative, I note that I am not yet decrepit, a disgruntled grumbler to everyone. To the best of my abilities, I continue to conduct phenological observations, do not interrupt the scientific connection with the phenocenter (Leningrad), try to follow the methodological literature, give feedback on works sent occasionally, I write. In a word, I have not climbed onto a warm stove yet.
School phenology
I also put a lot of time and effort into school phenology. Phenological observations provide less food for the creative search for a teacher than innovative work with visual aids, but they can contribute a lot to the teacher’s work.
In 1918, in connection with the collection of herbarium, I began to conduct fragmentary phenological observations of plants and some animals. Having obtained some literature on phenology, I streamlined my observations and rather successfully continued them.
In the spring of 1922, students of grades 5-6 of the railway school were involved in phenological observations. I made simple devices - a tenometer and a goniometer, with the help of which schoolchildren observed the visible movement of the sun. A year later, our first wall tables appeared with a colorful image of the observed pheno-objects, the spring course of the sun and temperature. There were no methodological guidelines for school phenology in the literature of that time, and, of course, my undertaking had misses and failures. And yet it was an interesting, attractive work. Phenological observations often posed before me questions for the resolution of which it was necessary to keep a sharp and thoughtful eye on natural phenomena, to rummage through books, and then little secrets of nature were revealed.
Nothing escaped the keen eyes of schoolchildren, either in early spring or in the winter. So, on December 12, they noticed frogs floating under the ice, and on December 28 a toad jumping in the yard. This was interesting news not only for schoolchildren, but, frankly, for me as well. And in the class appeared our first wall table with April pheno-observations. What was not shown on it! Under the schedule of the course of the sun and weather, drawn by me, in the order of occurrence of the phenomena were shown: the beginning of molting in a cow, horse, dog, cat, flight of birds, arrival of swallows, the appearance of lizards, frogs, butterflies, flowering grass and trees, and others. The drawings were made by students and pasted on old, scribbled paper, which we hardly obtained in the office of the railway station. The table was far from shining in appearance, but the content was interesting and useful in educational terms. We were proud of her.
Soon, having established contact with the research institute of the Central Bureau of Local History (PPM), I began to send him a summary of my pheno-observations. The knowledge that your observations are used in the research work of the pulp and paper mill and you thereby participate in them stimulated these studies.
The pulp and paper mill, for its part, supported my endeavors at school, supplying current literature on phenology.
When the first All-Russian Conference of Phenologists was convened in Moscow in 1937, the Pulp and Paper Mill invited me. The meeting was very few, and I was the only representative of the schools.
Having started with artless observations of the course of seasonal natural phenomena, I began to gradually turn from a simple observer into an inquisitive local historian-phenologist. At one time, working in the Novocherkassk Museum, on behalf of the museum, I sent out phenological questionnaires all over the Azov-Black Sea Territory, made numerous speeches at regional and city conferences of teachers on the statement and significance of school phenological observations, and was published in regional and local newspapers. My reports on phenology at the All-Union Geographical Congress in Moscow (1955) and at the All-Union Congress of Phenologists in Leningrad (1957) received a positive response in the central press.
From my many years of practice in school phenology, I remember well the spring of 1952, which I met in the distant village of Meshkovskaya, lost in the Upper Don Mountains. In this stanza I lived with my sick wife, who needed healing steppe air, for about a year. Having settled down as a teacher in a decade, I, in order to organize phenological observations, began to scout about local opportunities for these classes. According to schoolchildren and local residents, in the vicinity of the village in some places the remains of the virgin steppes, untouched by the plow, were preserved in places, and the beams were overgrown with bushes, trees and grasses.
The local steppes species composition plants differed from the Lower Don steppes known to me. For the phenologist, all this was extremely tempting, and I looked forward to the arrival of spring.
As always, pupils of grades 6-10 were involved in phenological observations, living in the village itself and in the surrounding villages, that is, 5-10 kilometers from it, which significantly expanded the area of \u200b\u200bour pheno-observations.
Early in the spring, a large wall table with a picture of the still bare “phenological tree” was hung in a prominent place on the school, during which seasonal phenomena were noted during the spring. Next to the table was a small board with three shelves, on which were bottles of water to demonstrate live plants.
And on the table appeared the images of the first messengers of spring: starlings, wild ducks, geese, and a few days later, to my amazement, and the bustard (?!). In the steppes of the Lower Don from this giant bird a long time ago and there was no trace. So our table gradually turned into a colorful "phenological tree", and living flowering plants with labels filled all the shelves. The table and plants on display attracted widespread attention. During the spring, in front of students and teachers about 130 plant species. A small reference herbarium was compiled from them.
But this is only one side of the matter, so to speak, official. Another was the personal experience of the phenologist teacher. We must not forget that aesthetic pleasure that I experienced at the sight of lovely sprawls, in a great number of pigeons beneath the still sleeping trees in the mire forest. I was alone, and nothing prevented me from perceiving the subtle beauty of nature. I had not so few such joyful meetings.
I described my experience at the Meshkovsky school in the journal Natural Science at School (1956, No. 2). In the same year, a drawing of my Meshkovsky “phenological tree” was placed in the Great Soviet Encyclopedia (T. 44. P. 602).
Phenology
(Retiree)
After retirement, I became fully engaged in phenology. Based on his long-term (1934-1950) observations, he compiled a nature calendar of Novocherkassk (the Nature Calendar presents a list of seasonal natural phenomena arranged in chronological order with the average long-term dates of their occurrence in this paragraph. N. P.) and its environs.
I subjected my phenomaterials to mathematical processing in order to find out their practical suitability in the local economy. I tried to find among flowering plants signaling devices for the best dates for various agricultural work. It was a research, painstaking work. Armed with Pomorsky's Variational Statistics manual, I sat down to tedious calculations. Since the results of the analyzes were generally encouraging, I tried not only to find agricultural signaling devices among flowering plants, but also to predict the time of their flowering, which significantly increased the practical significance of the proposed method. Hundreds of analyzes I have done have confirmed the correctness of the theoretical conclusions. It remained to put the theory into practice. But this was already a matter for collective farm agronomists.
Throughout my long work on the issues of agricultural phenosignalisers, I kept a business connection with the phenosector of the Geographical Society (Leningrad). On this subject, I have repeatedly made presentations at meetings of specialists in pest control in agriculture in Rostov, at the All-Union Congress of Phenologists in Leningrad (1957). In the journal "Plant Protection" was published my article "Phenosignalizers in plant protection" (Moscow, 1960). Rostizdat in 1961 released my small work “Signals of Nature”.
As an ardent popularizer of phenological observations among the general public, for my many years of activity in this field, especially after retirement, I have made many reports, messages, lectures, and conversations, for which I freshly made at least a hundred wall tables and as many more small ones.
This ebullient period of my phenological activity always evokes pleasant memories in my soul.
Over the long years of communication with nature, and especially over the past 15-20 years, when I visited the steppe or grove almost daily from the end of March to the end of October, I became so entranced with nature that I felt among plants as among relatives friends.
You walk along the flowering steppe of June and joyfully greet old friends in the soul. You will bend over to the indigenous resident of the former steppe's freedom - wild strawberries and “ask with your eyes” how she lives this summer. You stand in the same tacit conversation about the mighty handsome iron ore and walk to other green acquaintances. After a long winter, there were always joyful meetings with spring primroses - golden goose onions, tender bunches of tiny (1-2 cm high!) Grains and other pets of early spring.
By that time I was already over seventy, and I, as a three-year-old boy, still admired every steppe flower. It was not senile sussing, not cloying sentimentality, but some kind of spiritual merging with nature. Something similar, only incomparably deeper and finer, is probably experienced by great artists of the word and brush, such as Turgenev, Paustovsky. The elderly Saryan said not so long ago: “I never cease to be amazed at nature. And I am trying to depict this delight before the sun and spring, before the blossoming apricot and the grandeur of the gigantic mountains on canvas ”(Izvestia. 1966. May 27).
Years passed. In 1963, I turned 80 years old. They began to harass old-fashioned diseases. In the warm season I was no longer able to leave, as in previous years, for 8-12 kilometers to the steppe or sit without getting up at my desk for ten hours. But I was still irresistibly attracted to nature. And I had to be content with close walks out of town.
The steppe beckons with its boundless expanses, mysteriously bluish distances with ancient mounds on the horizon, an immense dome of the sky, tinkling songs of jubilant larks, living multicolored carpets under your feet. All this causes high aesthetic experiences in the soul, enhances the work of fantasy. True, now that the virgin land has been almost completely plowed up, the steppe emotions have somewhat weakened, but the Don expanses have given and remained equally immense and enticing. So that nothing distracts me from observing, I always wander along the steppe alone, and not along rolled lifeless roads, but along paths overgrown with impassable thick grass and shrubs, untouched plow on steppe slopes, rocky cliffs, deserted beams, that is, places where steppe plants and animals hide from people.
Over the years of studying phenology, I have developed a habit and skills to look closely at the beauty of the surrounding nature, whether it be a wide open landscape or a modest violet lurking under a bush. This habit affects the city. I can’t get past the mirror puddles scattered on the panel by a flying summer cloud, so as not to look for a moment into the bottomless wonderful blue of the overturned sky. In April, I can not help but admire in passing the golden hats of dandelions that flared up under the gateway that sheltered them.
When the shaky health did not allow me to roam the steppes in the distance, I moved closer to the desk.
Since 1934, brief summaries of my phenological observations have been published in the Novocherkassk newspaper “Banner of the Commune”. In the early years, these were dry news reports. Then I began to give them a descriptive character, and from the end of the fifties - a narrative with a certain claim to artistry.
It was joyful to once wander the steppe in search of plants unknown to you, create new devices and tables, work on the burning issues of phenosignaling. It developed creative thought and ennobled life. And now, my creative fantasy, which had been quiet for an old age, again found its application in literary work.
And the joyful torment of creativity began. To sketch a sketch for a newspaper or magazine from the life of nature, I often spent hours at my desk. Notes were regularly published in the Novocherkassk and Rostov newspapers. The realization that my notes open the eyes of the townsfolk to the beautiful in the familiar the surrounding nature and thus call them to protect it, attached importance to these occupations. Based on their materials, I wrote two small books: Notes by the Phenologist (1958) and Steppe Studies (1966), issued by Rostizdat.
A summer evening is like a calming sea after the excitement. As a rule, a summer day consists of many bright situations, and even if nothing happens, such a day is characterized by a rich experience. We see a lot of bright colors, birds chirp in the morning, different animals begin to move.
Therefore, a summer evening looks like a quiet harbor, where the ship of your senses arrives after a busy and even a little stressful voyage. In the summer evening there is rest and pleasant peace, he stays with you for many years, he is saturated with warmth and kindness. You especially feel this in the suburbs, where the various phases of nature are much more noticeable, and when the evening begins in summer, nature seems to be arranged to rest after a difficult and busy day.
It is so pleasant and calm to stay in the space of a summer evening. In fact, it doesn’t matter where exactly to be on such an evening: on the shore of a reservoir and watch the water strips or listen to the light buzz of the river; in a flood meadow, watch a bonfire or listen to the cicadas; walk through the woods and fields; watch the sunset in a comfortable armchair or cot; wandering along the road to meet friends. There is always a feeling of warmth and it’s not only about heat, which is from the temperature, it’s about the subtle sensation of warmth that the earth and space give all day long, heated by a caring sun.
These summer evenings are almost always filled with their own special music and it is so nice when nothing prevents you from listening. Best of all, when it is possible to enjoy the silence and various rare sounds that can be heard from the fields, trees. Summer music creates its sensations, which are also remembered for many years.
In my opinion, the best complement to such natural music could be a pipe or other similar instrument. Something transmitting high tones and possessing high melody. A simple pipe will perfectly complement the atmosphere of a summer evening.
Unlike the city, in the suburbs there is no stuffiness and the evening is easily and calmly carried over. You do not need to look for opportunities to be somewhere cool, to drink a refreshing drink. Summer evening in nature, as it were, itself is watered with various tasty drinks, juices of these joyful moments, and it seems as if peace alone reigns on the earth, and the world is as harmonious as it can be imagined and quiet joy always lasts.
Composition 2
A summer evening is always affectionate and pleasant, it is best manifested during the sunset itself, when a warm heavenly star shines like a blanket of darkness, which does not absorb, but wraps up heat. In the sunset glow, there is often some kind of sadness, a special sunset sadness. In Egyptian mythology, it was expressed as the regular death of Osiris, which is always reborn.
Only in the summer this sadness is felt in a special way, it is lighter, as it is shrouded in the summer itself - the most life-affirming (except for spring) period of the year when you want to do so much, when the prospects seem limitless like fields flooded with succulent herbs. This is the charm of a summer evening in the suburbs, it inspires hope, it creates a feeling of some eternity and joyful eternity.
I especially like the summer evening stuffiness, which probably changes the density and humidity of the air and creates the feeling of a domed sky. Sometimes on a summer evening, when it was quite dark, the sky does not even feel like a dome, but like a ceiling, although quite high. You feel in such a cozy palace or just a big warm house.
These thoughts and feelings unite and this cosiness creates intimacy between people, increases empathy. After all, it’s much more pleasant for all of us to truly feel ourselves on a warm summer evening just a part of a large house, cozy and general, in which everything is so calm and pleasant. Sometimes you even want to ask someone: “Don't you feel this, don't you feel like a warm and comfortable dome like in a tidy house?”
Probably, others also feel similar and then, invisible to the eyes, in the hearts of many people, pleasant candle lights are lit for this gentle and warm feeling, this bright feeling. This inner fire really, like a soft candle, consecrates space and many, many such candles burn in the house of an evening summer or summer evening. It no longer matters, it doesn’t matter how to describe these feelings in words, only they remain.
A summer evening creates excellent conditions for the contemplative end of the day. Let everyone at least try to feel these pleasant moments for themselves.
Reference.
Types of texts.
Depending on the content and nature of the presentation of the material, they differ: a) on the description; b) according to the narrative and c) reasoning.
In descriptive texts, objects or phenomena are depicted by listing their characteristic features. At the beginning or at the end of the description, an idea of \u200b\u200bthe subject or phenomenon as a whole is given, the main part is made up of elements of the description - passages that reveal the individual sides of the depicted. Description elements are given according to a specific system: in the order of their importance, in the order of the sequence of location in space, etc.
Narrative texts contain a story about events, which is conducted in chronological sequence. The main events are highlighted in the narrative, the order of their sequence is indicated, their relationship is shown. An example of such texts is a biographical work, a story about a journey, etc.
Reasoning is the kind of text in which objects or phenomena are examined, the reasons are revealed, internal signs are analyzed, certain provisions are proved. The evidence highlights the main point, the truth of which is proved (the so-called thesis), and judgments substantiating the correctness of the thesis (they are called arguments).
489. Find out the tricks of a simple (business) description in the text below.
COOL ROOM. To the left of the door were two shelves: one — ours, the nursery, the other — Karla Ivanovich, her own. On our were all sorts of books - educational and non-educational: some stood, others lay; the collection of books on the shelf of Karl Ivanovich, if it wasn’t as large as ours, was even more diverse.
On the other wall hung landcards, all almost tattered, but skillfully glued with the hand of Karl Ivanovich.
On the third wall, in the middle of which there was a door down, two rulers hung on one side: one - rugged, ours; the other is new, own; on the other, there is a black board on which our large misconducts were marked with circles and small ones with crosses. To the left of the board was the corner at which we were put on our knees.
In the middle of the room was a table covered with ragged black oilcloth, from under which in many places there were edges cut with penknives. Around the table were several unpainted, but from the long use of varnished stools.
The last wall was occupied by three windows. Here is the view from them: right under the windows there is a road, behind which there is a trimmed linden alley, because of which a wicker palisade can be seen in some places; a meadow is visible through the alley, on one side of which is a threshing floor, and on the contrary a forest; far in the forest you can see the watchman's hut. From the window to the right you can see part of the terrace, on which usually large people sat until lunch.
(L. N. Tolstoy)
Write a description of the street you live in (describe residential buildings in the neighborhood, shops, green spaces, types of urban transport, street lighting, etc.).
Figure out tricks artistic description in the text below. How does it differ from a simple (business) description?
GROVE.
The heat made us finally enter the grove. I threw myself under a tall bush of hazel, over which a young, slender maple beautifully spread its light branches. Kasyan crouched on the thick end of a felled birch. I looked at him. The leaves flickered faintly above, and their liquid-green shadows quietly glided back and forth over his puny body, somehow wrapped in a dark Armenian, over his small face. He did not raise his head.
Having bored him with silence, I lay on my back and began to admire the peaceful game of entangled leaves in the distant bright sky. It is an amazingly pleasant activity to lie on your back in the forest and look up! It seems to you that you are looking into the bottomless sea, that it is widely spread under you, that the trees do not rise from the earth, but, like the roots of huge plants, descend, fall vertically into those glass-clear waves; the leaves on the trees are sometimes seen through emeralds, then thickened into golden, almost black greens. Somewhere, far, far, ending with a thin branch, a separate leaf stands motionless on a blue patch of transparent sky, and another sways next to it, reminding with its movement a game of fish stretch, as if the movement is unauthorized and is not produced by the wind. White round clouds quietly swim and pass quietly under the magical underwater islands, and then all of a sudden, all this sea, this radiant air, these branches and leaves drenched in the sun - everything will grow up, tremble with a fluent brilliance, and a fresh, trembling babble will rise, similar to an endless small splash of a sudden swell.
You do not move - you look, and you cannot express in words how joyfully, quietly and sweetly your heart becomes. You look - that deep, clear azure arouses a smile on your lips, innocent, like herself, like clouds across the sky, and as if happy memories pass along with them in a slow string; and it all seems to you that your gaze goes farther and farther and pulls you along in that calm, radiant abyss, and it is impossible to tear yourself away from this height, from this depth.
(Y. S. Turgenev)
Describe a summer evening from your own observations. Look at the colors in the sky, track their overflows, listen to the sounds around you. Draw, where appropriate, epithets, comparisons, and other visual means of language. Since the observed phenomena will occur simultaneously, use mainly verbs in the form of an imperfect leg form (the so-called present or past descriptive).
Indicate features of the description and narration in the cited text.
About half a century ago, in a summer house in Kuokkala, there was a wooden house near the station,
X. X.
over which an awkward turret stuck with different-colored, half-broken glasses. There, in the turret, about half a century ago, there was my home, and the stairs there were very steep.
Once, before evening twilight, an elderly man climbed up to this staircase very easily, without shortness of breath — at the first minute I mistook him for a messenger — and gives me a letter:
From Peter, from Ivan Ivanovich ...
And he names the name of a very small writer who printed small notes about art in the then newspapers.
I open the envelope and read:
“Using the courtesy of Ilya Efimovich Repin, who will deliver this note to you, I hasten to inform you ...”.
I did not read further. The thought that here, in front of me, in this tiny little room, the creator of “Burlakov”, “Zaporozhtsev”, “Didn't wait”, “Ivan the Terrible”, “Religious procession”, led me to a state of extreme bewilderment. I began to seat him in my only chair, but he said that he was just off the train, that he needed to get home as soon as possible, and yet he paused for a minute to look around my meager bookshelf.
When you watch dozens of paintings by the Repin brush in the Tretyakov Gallery or in the Russian Museum, Repin seems to be a giant. The very number of these paintings is striking in its colossal nature. And now he is standing in front of me - of a small stature, with a smiling, strong, weathered, old man's face, with a narrowed right eye, in a black overcoat, with a cape, in the most ordinary village gloves, and not even gloves, but mittens, around the mustache his reddish hair is puffing, quite simple, even as if shy, as if he did not know that he was Repin.
Ah, you read in English! - he said, having seen some English book on a shelf, and said in such a respectful voice, as if the ability to read in a foreign language was the greatest wisdom inaccessible to an ordinary mortal.
(K.I. Chukovsky)
Describe your visit to a museum or art gallery, combining narrative with description.
Describe any production process in which you participated or which you observed.
Write a short chronicle note in the wall newspaper. This kind of notes contains answers to the questions of what? Where? when?
Write to the wall newspaper a more detailed correspondence in which not only the fact, place and time of the incident would be reported, but also the activist and motives for his actions (who? What? Where? When? How much?).
Make a sketch of the appearance of one of your friends.
Using materials from sports life, write an essay on the topic “What qualities should a real athlete have?”.
Indicate the features of the narrative and reasoning ”in the text below.
When it dawned on the southern outskirts of the city, a third battery was already dug in and stood masked. The winter sun rose behind the snows, and everyone saw German tanks prepared for the attack. They were not hiding, they were rebuilding in front of everyone, and because they were moving all the time, it was difficult to count them. But there were many.
v
V
Ahead, to the left of the third battery, was the heavy battery of another regiment. From a distance, a battalion commander could be distinguished by a tall black hat with a red top. He stood at the wheel of the cannon, holding binoculars with one hand, with the other, in a glove, made signs for calculation, and, obeying his hand, the gun trunks turned. One could see how the numbers work under the shield, the gunner spins the wheels of the rotary and lifting mechanisms. The battery was preparing to open fire on the tanks.
After the first shell, the tanks came to life. They were waiting for this, they were afraid to launch an attack on a snowy field, not knowing our firing points, and caused fire on themselves. Now, with all their might, they piled on the battery. The shells were densely torn around her, and the batteries only shot back.
From there, a man ran in deep snow. From afar he cried out in a sobbing voice:
What are you watching? We are being shot before your eyes, but are you standing?
It was a lieutenant, platoon commander.
Velichenko felt the looks of the fighters on himself.
Nazarov came quickly:
Comrade battalion commander, allow me to open fire.
And the tanks all hit the battery. Her weapon alone was silent. The shell hit the wheel, and the gun sank to one side, the shield was bent. Several people remained lying in the trench, others, scattering, fled to the gardens.
Nazarov stepped closer to Belichenko:
If you do not order, I will open fire myself!
I'll shoot you on the spot! - choked, quietly said Belichenko.
When he turned around, he did not meet anyone's eyes.
On the battery, the second gun was already hit and did not respond to the fire of German tanks. The calculation left her. the last numbers had already reached the gardens. Only the battalion commander in his tall black top with a red top sat behind the wheel of the gun, cringing, not wanting to leave the battery, which he himself had destroyed. To
his heroism was now needed. No, Belichenko could not open fire. I had no right, succumbing to the feeling, to accept the battle in the conditions that the Germans imposed on him. Open fire, and the tanks will find his disguised battery and from a vantage point, will shoot it from afar, as they just shot the next one. He was responsible for the lives of people, but these same people now looked away under his gaze, as before a man who had done a cruel thing.
Shells remained on the broken battery, and he sent fighters for them. By lowlands, gardens, ravines, they made their way there and carried out all the boxes, and the battalion commander was still sitting on a battery left without guns and without shells.
But Belichenko now had no pity for this man. And there was no time left to regret.
Here, on the outskirts of the gardens, a third battery met the tanks and repulsed them, and then lost count of attacks. And with each repulsed attack, the consciousness was strengthened that, although there was no longer any possibility, one could still stay here.
(According to G. Ya. Baklanov)
Describe an episode from your life that you find interesting. To indicate the sequence of events, use verbs in the form of a perfect form (the so-called past narrative).
Indicate the elements of reasoning in the text below.
When people leave, things remain after them. Things silently testify to the most ancient truth - that they are more durable than people. There are no inanimate objects. There are inanimate people. Without Pushkin’s things, without the nature of Pushkin’s places, it’s hard to fully understand his life and work. The contemporaries of the poet knew this well, and Alexander Ivanovich Turgenev, who wrote about the house, is the best
Pushkin, about the pines, lilacs, the cottage and much more in Mikhailovsky.
It has long been known that for any poet, the places where his fate took shape, where his “prophetic zeniths” were discovered, are especially expensive. They remain for him forever the most remarkable in the world.
Pushkin himself connected the beginning of his creative biography not only with Tsarskoye Selo gardens, but also with Mikhailovsky groves. In Mikhailovsky, he realized, "why was born into the world." He comprehended in him the true bounty of nature, its infinity, "beauty, ever shining." And he gave his heart and love to heaven and earth, its bread, flowers, trees and birds. Mikhailovsky was his home, through the windows of which he saw his Fatherland. It was his fate and happiness.
Through love of flowers, birds and herbs, the great poet received love for her people, love bright, cheerful, like a wonderful song of a nightingale or Oriole.
Through love for the nature of Mikhailovsky comes joy to all of us.
(S. S. Geychenko)
503. Read an excerpt from the book of M. M. Prishvin
"The road to a friend." State the main point expressed in the passage.
A man of seventy-five years old, his life in the balance, and he plants lilacs!
And besides, he is not alone, and maybe there was no time when people would grab plants so passionately: everyone who can plant gardens.
This means, firstly, that people live all as immortals, despising their knowledge of death; secondly, this means that the best person really has a garden.
It’s never too late to plant a tree: let the fruits not come to you, but the joy of life begins with the opening of the first bud of a planted plant.
To what type of presentation (description, narration, reasoning) do you attribute the following text? Motivate your opinion.
A few days ago in Koktebel, one carpenter, an intelligent young man, pointed me to the grave of M. A. Voloshin, located high above the sea on the left turtle shore of Iphigeniy Bay. When we raised the ashes to the mountain indicated in the will of the poet, he explained, everyone was amazed at the novelty of the open view. Only M. A. himself — the greatest, according to the carpenter, the specialist in vigilance affairs — could so successfully choose a place for his burial.
In the hands of the carpenter was a magnetic chisel. He dipped the bare blue steel into the nails and took it out all that had drunk with tenacious iron mosquitoes. M.A., an honorary caretaker of a marvelous geological accident, called Koktebel, devoted his whole life to magnetizing the bay entrusted to him. He conducted shock Danish work to merge with the landscape and was awarded the recall of a carpenter.
(O. E. Mandelstam)
Write an essay on the topic “What does reading fiction give me?” Support each statement with the necessary arguments.
Prepare an oral retelling of the text below.
UNUSUAL MONUMENTS. In the spring of 1942, Nazi planes bombarded an English submarine with depth charges. When the bombardment subsided, the crew found that the boat was doomed: the steering wheel and the lift systems were damaged, the communication at the depth did not work. Slow death seemed inevitable, the only timid hope was on two pigeons: all of a sudden, would the birds help contact the base? Pigeons were placed in a rescue capsule, thrown out through a torpedo tube and began to wait. Help came on the second day, and the dove was the savior: in a severe storm, she flew over the ocean several hundred kilometers and brought to the base the coordinates of the boat. A monument was erected for this feat and the bird was forever enrolled in the crew of the boat.
Monuments of deer can be seen on the island of Rhodes in Greece: animals are honored for the extermination of dangerous snakes.
Of course, dogs deserved the greatest gratitude of people. What kind of work they do not perform on behalf of a person! A dog and a watchman, and a fireman, and a medic, and a sapper in the war, and an indispensable assistant to the border guard, criminalist, and hunter; dogs were the first living creatures to go into space, they have undergone heart transplant surgery and many other experimental operations. In 1935, at the insistence of Academician I. P. Pavlov, a monument was erected in the village of Koltushi, called the Monument to the Unknown Dog.
In Paris, a monument to St. Bernard named Barry was erected. The inscription on the pedestal is inscribed: “The valiant Barry saved forty people from death. At the time of salvation, the forty-first died. " Behind this inscription is a story full of drama.
This is how it all happened. Saint Bernards are mountain rescue dogs: they look for people when there are snowfalls. On the back of a large and strong animal, first-aid equipment is shrunk: food, a bottle of wine, a blanket. If the dog is unable to unearth the victim, she rushes into the village and there calls for help from people. Thus, Barry managed to save 40 people. Forty-first, found under the rubble, showed no signs of life, but the dog dug it up and, warming his breath, began to lick a person in the face. The victim woke up, opened his eyes, but, frightened, grabbed a revolver and fired.
Fortunately, the ending of this story is a legend. In fact, Barry lived at the monastery on Mount Saint Bernard from 1800 to 1812, and when he grew old and became weak for work in the mountains, the abbot sent him to the capital of Switzerland, Bern, and, as one document says, “ the city fed him until his death. " Scarecrow Barry and now can be seen in the Zoological Museum in Bern.
507. Read the text of non-fiction content. Indicate the features of its presentation.
WHAT THE ORDINARY SUFFIX CAN DISCLOSE.
"What's your last name?" - "Kuznetsov." - "And her?" - "Nadezhdina." - “But this kid in felt boots?” - “His last name is Kozlovsky.”
Here are three types of suffixes, with the help of which our Russian surnames are most often formed: "-ov" (Stolyarov, Viktorov, Ushakov), "-in" (Dobrynin, Pushkin, Druzhinin), "-sky" (Vyazemsky, Zhukovsky, Dargomyzhsky) .
As often as the suffix “s”, we meet in family names and its variety - the suffix “s”: Dmitriev, Saraev, Soloviev.<...>
What does the name “Petrov” mean? It means "belonging to Peter." "City of Petrov" by Pushkin means: "built, created by Peter the Great."
When applied to a person, the suffix “-ov”, when he joins the human name, usually means: “son of such and such”. Vasiliev is almost the same as Vasilievich. "Vasilyev" is either a son or a descendant of Vasily.
Until the revolution itself, the peasantry in Russia almost did not have real surnames that would pass from generation to generation. If Peter's son Nikolai was born, then he received the name "Petrov". The grandson of Peter and the son of Nikolai would most often be called not Alexander Nikolaevich Petrov, but Alexander Nikolaev.
In the even more distant past, there was a habit, which very clearly showed what the suffix “-ov” or “-ev”, which was part of our surnames, originally meant. Then they said this: “Lev Kirillov is the son of Naryshkin; Boris Lvov is the son of the Krechetov. "
That is why, meeting a surname with these suffixes, we have every right to assume that the rest of the word was once a name, a masculine name.
Most often, there is nothing to assume here: it is clear that Peter, Ivan, Gregory are male names.<...>
Apparently, the male names were once many words that we now never meet in this role; otherwise where would such names as “Suitcases”, “Bystrov”, “Kiselev”, “Churbakov” and many others like them come from? After all, they all mean nothing more than "a descendant of the Suitcase, Kissel, Churbak."
(L.V. Uspensky)
508. For the relevant sections of the Russian language textbook, prepare an oral report on one of the topics: “Types simple sentences with one main member ”,“ Ways to express the predicate in sentences with two main members ”,“ Punctuation marks in unionless compound sentences ”. For each topic, consider a response plan and find the right examples.
Reference. For the most general acquaintance of readers with the content and purpose of the book, article, collection, an annotation is often attached to them.
An annotation is a brief description of a print publication, placed at its beginning, outlining its contents in the form of a list of the most important issues, sometimes also giving an assessment of it.
Check out the annotation below for Live Pages. A. S. Pushkin, N. V. Gogol, M. Yu. Lermontov, V. G. Belinsky in memoirs, letters, diaries, autobiographical works and documents ”, intended for high school students. Based on this sample, annotate one of the books you read.
"Living Pages" is a kind of chronicle of the life and work of four great representatives of Russian literature of the first half of the 19th century: Pushkin, Gogol, Lermontov, Belinsky. The book introduces their immediate surroundings. It also highlights the most important events. public life that time, which worried writers and found reflection in their works.
Write a review about a book you recently read. In the review, provide a brief summary of the book, indicate the idea, theme, plot, mark the composition, features of the language and style, give an assessment (did you like the book or didn't like it? Why?). As a model, use the critical articles you know about fiction.
Write a review about the performance you watched, a movie or a television movie. Summarize their contents, give an assessment. Review the content below.
SOIL AND DESTINY. This year, cinema marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of one of the largest film masters, Alexander Dovzhenko.
The Earth, the most important film for understanding the director’s innovative poetics, still remains an urgent occasion for reflection on the pressing problems of cinema. In the summer of 1929, Dovzhenko will begin work on his best film. A hunch of rebirth, the impending Golden Age, dominated the environment, of which Dovzhenko was a part. The debate, however, was who to focus on in the Renaissance process. To the masses, to the tiller and his value world, or to the superman?
Ukraine was often represented in the form of untouched, sleeping land, which was to be taken by force, to awaken. Hence, it is from here sympathy for Bolshevism, for its strength. The weak should leave, disappear, dissolve - they have no place here ... Have you ever thought that the strong, having come and established himself, will begin to throw his ideologues away too.
The beginning of the "Earth": a field excited by the wind, a girl and a sunflower. The latter is the viceroy of the sun on earth, its sign, and, therefore, we have been shown the image of the earth marked with this sign. A girl is a symbol of pristine integrity. The sun has yet to rise above this earth, while in the evening the evening twilight is here. Their expression is the sunset in the life of Vasilyov’s grandfather - he passes away, like the sun, quietly rolling over the horizon. And sunflowers bow over it, foreshadowing a future sunrise. Only for this you need someone's effort.
Komsomolets Vasil leaves for the city and returns from there on a tractor, met by the whole village.
Somewhere near the sun, its rise, its birth and rebirth. But for this to happen, the ransom sacrifice of the savior is needed. A shot, death, a funeral ... And - the sun, here it trembles in every drop of moisture, here splashes with the bright heavenly joy of the granted, newly revived life. The earth is saved, the human race is reborn again - there is no end to this magic.
But the Bolshevik is not a political titan here, it is not he who conquers, but life itself, involving in its water gate and the Bolshevik. Here the poetry of the earth, the soil on which the human race is cultivated, predominates. Dov-Zhenko won as an artist. He remains with us as a man of the Renaissance in the true sense of the word, not dimming from its applied use, as a frantic artist, obsessed with the mighty desire to renew human life. Let it not be renewed, let it fall into darkness, darkness and horror again. We still believe ... And is it possible not to believe when you watch these jubilant, victorious shots of the "Earth" over and over again? Despite everything, the man is beautiful. Dovzhenko never doubted this.
(To S. Trimbachu)
Once my parents and I went out into the countryside with tents. We really wanted to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the city, so we decided to spend the weekend in the forest. There I drew attention to what I had not noticed before - how beautiful a summer evening can be.
Exhausting midday
The heat finally wanes, leaving a pleasant warmth. The sun is approaching the horizon, its bright light is softening, and the shadows are lengthening. A light breeze touches the pine branches and bird voices are heard everywhere.
The sky is clear, there is not a cloud on it. Grasshoppers do not stop in the grass, and butterflies flutter in colors. Everyone breathes easier, even plants, tired of the heat of a summer day, invigorate, sensing the approach of evening coolness.
As you approach the horizon, the sun becomes orange, and the sky is pale pink. The real decoration of a summer evening is the sunset. He gives indescribable
A range of emotions that are difficult to describe in words. The world It is painted in a variety of and rich colors from glowing red to lilac. It should be noted that not only the sky is transformed, but also the tops of the trees, even the grass takes on a warmer shade. And on the surface of the lake appear crimson glare.
The air gradually becomes cooler, the smells are brighter. The wind subsides, and, preparing for sleep, the birds fall silent. Unfortunately, the evening does not last long, soon the night comes into its own, quietly pushing its predecessor. Wake up the night inhabitants. Crickets begin their concert, which will last until late at night, you can hear the rustle of voles that have gone out in search of food, and the hoot of an owl.
I am glad that at this time I was alone with nature and was able to feel and feel all the beauty and depth of the moment. Indeed, in everyday hustle and bustle, we often miss the simple joys of life.
Compositions on topics:
- In summer, the day starts early. And even in the summer it’s not difficult to wake up early to enjoy the dawn. At first the sky turns white, then on it ...
- Sunset has truly captivating magic. They seek to see it, to capture it in pictures, photographs, to describe in words. In the sunset light people are explained ...
- The incomprehensible Nikolai Gogol in his mystical work “Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka” reveals the national character traits of the Ukrainian inhabitant of the nineteenth century ....
“Good summer!” A short story about summer
Good summer! The golden rays of the sun are generously pouring to the earth. The river runs away with a blue ribbon into the distance. The forest stands in a festive, summer decoration. Flowers - lilac, yellow, blue scattered across the clearings, edges.
In summer, all sorts of miracles happen. There is a forest in a green outfit, under your feet there is a green grass-ant, completely strewn with dew. But what is it? Yesterday, nothing was in this meadow, and today it is completely dotted with small, red, as if precious, pebbles. This berry is wild strawberry. Isn't that a miracle?
Puffs, rejoicing in the delicious provisions, hedgehog. Hedgehog - he is omnivorous. Therefore, glorious days came for him. And for other animals too. Rejoices all living things. Birds happily flood, they are now in their homeland, they do not have to rush to distant, warm lands yet, they enjoy warm, sunny days.
Summer is loved by children and adults. For long, sunny days and short warm nights. For the rich harvest of the summer garden. For generous fields full of rye, wheat.
All living things in summer sings and triumphs.
"Summer morning". A short story about summer
Summer is the time when nature wakes up early. Summer morning is amazing. High clouds float high in the sky, the air is clean and fresh, it is filled with the aromas of herbs. Forest river throws off a haze of fog. Skilfully through the dense foliage a golden ray of the sun makes its way, it illuminates the forest. A nimble dragonfly, moving from place to place, looks carefully, as if looking for something.
It is good to wander through the summer forest. Among the trees above all - pine. The spruce is also not small, but they do not know how to pull their top so high towards the sun. Gently step on the emerald moss. What is not in the forest: mushrooms, berries, mosquitoes, grasshoppers, mountains-slopes. Summer forest is a pantry of nature.
And here’s the first meeting - a big, prickly hedgehog. Seeing people, he gets lost, stands on a forest path, probably wondered where to move on?
"Summer evening". A short story about summer
Summer day tends to evening. The sky is gradually darkening, the air is getting cooler. It seems that it may rain now, but inclement weather is a rarity for the summer season. The forest is becoming quieter, but the sounds do not disappear at all. Some animals hunt at night, the darkest time of day for them is the most favorable time. Their eyesight is poorly developed, but they have excellent sense of smell and hearing. Such animals include, for example, hedgehog. Sometimes you can hear how the throat moans.
A nightingale sings at night. In the afternoon, he also performs a solo part, but in the midst of polyphony it is difficult to hear and disassemble it. Another thing at night. Someone is singing, someone is groaning. But overall, the forest freezes. Nature rests in order to delight everyone again in the morning.