Description: War Thunder is a next generation military MMO game dedicated to...
(For children 5-6 years old)
Target: formation of skills of coherent sequential retelling of the text based on graphic diagrams.
Activation and enrichment of vocabulary on the topics "Autumn". "Mushrooms";
Develop phrasal speech and the skills of compiling common answers to questions;
To form auditory and visual control of the correctness of the story, fine motor skills of the hands;
Cultivate the ability to admire the beauty of this season.
Equipment: ICT equipment, book by I.S. Sokolv-Mikitov, autumn leaves from paper by the number of children, presentation.
Preliminary work: conversations on the topic "Autumn", "Mushrooms", reading a story.
Lesson progress
Let's stand side by side in a circle
Say hello to each other
If everyone smiles.
good morning will start
Say to our guests - Good morning!!!
Guys, have you seen a new book on our shelf?
Do you want to review it?
(Sit on chairs.)
Guys, what do you think, looking at the illustration, you can find out what season the author writes about in this book? (Children's answers.)
Then carefully look at the illustration and tell me what season is shown here? (Children's answers.)
Why do you think it's autumn? Prove? (There are colorful leaves on the trees, yellow grass on the ground.)
See what berry turns red in autumn on the trees? (Rowan reddens in autumn).
What do you think this place is? (Forest, forest edge.)
What grows in the autumn in the forest? (Mushrooms grow in the forest in autumn.)
Guys, have you ever been to autumn forest did you pick mushrooms there?
What mushrooms did you collect?
Guys, remember, we talked about mushrooms and looked at pictures.
Who can name them?
Guys, I invite you to the clearing. Look, autumn gave us beautiful, colorful leaves. Let's make a fall.
Breathing exercises. Place the leaf in your palm and blow on the leaves to make them swirl in the air. (Put your lips in a tube, inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.)
Finger gymnastics.
One two three four five
Let's collect the leaves
birch leaves
rowan leaves
poplar leaves
aspen leaves
oak leaves
We will collect
We will take the autumn bouquet to the vase.
Guys, you are great, and we proved that the artist depicted autumn in the illustration. Now suppose that the author in this book also writes about autumn. You agree with me? (Children's answers.)
Guys, but how can we check our assumption, maybe the author is not writing about autumn? How can we check? (Children's answers.) I also agree with Artem, I suggest reading the story. Sit down and carefully listen to the story of I.S. Sokolov-Mikitov.
Reading a story
After a hot summer came gold autumn. Clouds run and run across the high sky. On warm days, a web flies over the ground. Mushrooms still grow in the forest: red-headed boletus, greenish and pink russula, slippery milk mushrooms and fragrant mushrooms. Thin-legged mushrooms are visible on old stumps. Ruddy cranberries are scattered over bumps in swamps. Clusters of mountain ash turn red in the forest glades.
Guys, did you like the story? You listened to him carefully, tell me, what time of the year comes after a hot summer? (After a sultry summer comes a golden autumn.)
What kind of sky do clouds run through? (Clouds run across the high sky.)
What flies over the earth on fine, warm days? (On fine, warm days, a sticky web flies above the ground.)
What mushrooms grow on the edges of forests? (Mushrooms grow along the edges of the forests: red-headed boletus, greenish and pink russula, slippery milk mushrooms, fragrant mushrooms.)
What is scattered over the bumps in the swamps? (In the marshes, ruddy cranberries are scattered over bumps.)
What berry turns red in forest glades? (Clusters of mountain ash turn red in forest glades.)
I suggest the game "Difficult words".
What does the word sultry mean? (Roast.)
What does golden mean? (Yellow.)
What is a kotka? (Small bump.)
What is a pouch? (The edge of the forest.) Well done!
Guys, I propose to relax and play in our clearing.
Physical education "Rain"
To us on a long thin leg (Jumping on one leg in a circle.)
Rain falls down the path
In a puddle - look, look! (Children face in a circle; rhythmic squats.)
He blows bubbles.
The bushes got wet (Hands up, shaking hands.)
The flowers are wet. ( Tilt, hands to the floor, shaking hands.)
Wet Gray Sparrow (Stand up, arms along the body, shaking with brushes.)
Dries feathers faster.
And now I will read the story again, you listen carefully and try to remember. You will tell the story yourself. (Rereading the story.)
Guys, try to use words and expressions from the text of Sokolov-Mikitov in your stories. Graphic diagrams will also help you, look at them on the screen. I propose to tell the story first in turn, starting with Masha one sentence at a time.
(Children's retelling of the story based on diagrams.)
Children go out, retell the story in a chain, in pairs and individually.
Guys, tell me, whose story did you like the most? (children's statements). I also liked your stories.
And now, tell me, what season did Sokolov - Mikitov write in this book? (children's answers).
Yes, guys, you are right, the story is called "Autumn in the Forest."
So our assumptions are correct? (Children's answers.) We were right Sokolov - Mikitov wrote in his book about autumn in the forest.
Guys, this story, you can tell your friends, parents.
Thanks guys, I was pleased to find the right solution with you, I think you were also interested. /
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
The chirping swallows flew south a long time ago, and even earlier, as if on cue, swift swifts disappeared.
AT autumn days the children heard how, saying goodbye to their dear homeland, flying cranes cooed in the sky. With some special feeling, they looked after them for a long time, as if the cranes were taking the summer away with them.
Quietly talking, geese flew to the warm south ...
Getting ready for cold winter people. Rye and wheat have long been cut down. Prepared feed for livestock. They pick the last apples in the orchards. They dug up potatoes, beets, carrots and harvest them for the winter.
The animals are getting ready for winter. The nimble squirrel accumulated nuts in a hollow, dried selected mushrooms. Little mice-voles dragged grains into their burrows, prepared fragrant soft hay.
In late autumn, a hardworking hedgehog builds its winter lair. He dragged a whole heap of dry leaves under the old stump. All winter will sleep peacefully under a warm blanket.
Less and less, the autumn sun warms more and more sparingly.
Soon, the first frosts will begin soon.
Mother Earth will freeze until spring. Everyone took everything from her that she could give.
Autumn
It's been a fun summer. Here comes autumn. It's time to harvest. Vanya and Fedya are digging potatoes. Vasya picks beets and carrots, and Fenya picks beans. There are many plums in the garden. Vera and Felix pick fruit and send it to the school cafeteria. There everyone is treated with ripe and tasty fruits.
In the woods
Grisha and Kolya went into the forest. They picked mushrooms and berries. They put mushrooms in a basket, and berries in a basket. Suddenly thunder boomed. The sun has disappeared. Clouds appeared all around. The wind bent the trees to the ground. There was a big rain. The boys went to the forester's house. Soon the forest became quiet. Rain stopped. The sun came out. Grisha and Kolya went home with mushrooms and berries.
Mushrooms
The guys went to the forest for mushrooms. Roma found a beautiful boletus under a birch. Valya saw a small butter dish under a pine tree. Serezha saw a huge boletus in the grass. In the grove they collected full baskets of various mushrooms. The children returned home happy and happy.
Forest in autumn
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
The Russian forest is beautiful and sad in the early autumn days. Against the golden background of yellowed foliage, bright spots of red-yellow maples and aspens stand out. Slowly spinning in the air, light, weightless yellow leaves fall and fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of light cobwebs stretched from tree to tree. The late fall flowers are still blooming.
Clear and clean air. Clear water in forest ditches and streams. Every pebble at the bottom is visible.
Quiet in the autumn forest. Fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Sometimes a hazel grouse will whistle thinly. And that makes the silence even louder.
Easy to breathe in the autumn forest. And I don't want to leave it for a long time. It's good in the autumn flowery forest... But something sad, farewell is heard and seen in it.
nature in autumn
The mysterious princess Autumn will take the tired nature into her hands, dress her in golden outfits and soak her with long rains. Autumn will calm the breathless earth, blow away the last leaves with the wind and lay in the cradle of a long winter sleep.
Autumn day in a birch grove
I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, about half of September. From the very morning a fine rain fell, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was erratic. The sky was now all clouded over with loose white clouds, then it suddenly cleared in places for a moment, and then behind the parted clouds a azure appeared, clear and gentle ...
I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled a little over my head; one could tell from their noise what season it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing thrill of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long talk of summer, not the timid and cold babble. late autumn but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A light wind blew a little over the tops. The inside of the grove, damp from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun shone or was covered with clouds; at one time she lit up all over, as if all of a sudden everything was smiling in her ... then suddenly everything around her again turned slightly blue: bright colors instantly extinguished ... and stealthily, slyly, began to sow and whisper the smallest rain through the forest.
The foliage on the birch trees was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; only here and there stood one young woman, all red or all gold...
Not a single bird was heard: everyone took shelter and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of the tit tinkle like a steel bell.
Autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when the birch, as if fairy tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than summer, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it were fun and easy to stand naked, the frost still turns white at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind is soft stirs and drives fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, quietly raising scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered with willows, and, motley in the bright air, doves quickly circle over it ...
By the beginning of September, the weather suddenly changed dramatically and quite unexpectedly. Quiet and cloudless days immediately set in, so clear, sunny and warm that there were none even in July. On the dry, compressed fields, on their prickly yellow bristles, autumn cobwebs shone with a mica sheen. The calmed trees silently and obediently dropped their yellow leaves.
Late fall
Korolenko Vladimir Galaktionovich
Late autumn is coming. The fruit is heavy; he breaks down and falls to the ground. He dies, but the seed lives in him, and in this seed the whole future plant lives in "possibility", with its future luxurious foliage and with its new fruit. The seed will fall to the ground; and the cold sun already rises low above the earth, runs cold wind, cold clouds are rushing ... Not only passion, but life itself freezes quietly, imperceptibly ... The earth more and more emerges from under the greenery with its blackness, cold tones dominate in the sky ... And then the day comes when this resigned and millions of snowflakes fall on the hushed, as if widowed earth, and it all becomes even, monochromatic and white ... White is the color of cold snow, the color of the highest clouds that float in the unattainable cold of the heavenly heights - the color of majestic and barren mountain peaks .. .
Antonov apples
Bunin Ivan Alekseevich
I remember the early fine autumn. August was with warm rains at the very time, in the middle of the month. I remember early, fresh, quiet morning... I remember a large, all golden, dried up and thinned garden, I remember maple alleys, the delicate aroma of fallen leaves and the smell of Antonov apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it's like it doesn't exist at all. Everywhere smells strongly of apples.
By night it becomes very cold and dewy. Breathing in the rye aroma of new straw and chaff on the threshing floor, you cheerfully walk home to dinner past the garden rampart. The voices in the village or the creaking of the gates resound through the icy dawn with unusual clarity. It's getting dark. And here's another smell: in the garden - a fire and strongly pulls the fragrant smoke of cherry branches. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: just in a corner of hell, a crimson flame is burning near the hut, surrounded by darkness ...
"A vigorous Antonovka - for a merry year." Village affairs are good if Antonovka is born: it means that bread is born too ... I remember a harvest year.
At early dawn, when the roosters are still crowing, you used to open a window into a cool garden filled with a lilac fog, through which the morning sun shines brightly in some places ... You run to wash yourself on the pond. The small foliage has almost completely flown from the coastal vines, and the branches are visible in the turquoise sky. The water under the vines became clear, icy and as if heavy. She instantly drives away the night's laziness.
You will enter the house and first of all you will hear the smell of apples, and then others.
Since the end of September, our gardens and threshing floor have been empty, the weather, as usual, has changed dramatically. The wind tore and ruffled the trees for whole days, the rains watered them from morning to night.
Cold and bright shone in the north over heavy lead clouds liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds, the ridges of snowy mountains-clouds slowly floated up, the window closed into the blue sky, and the garden became deserted and boring, and the rain began to sow again ... at first quietly, carefully, then it got thicker and finally turned into a downpour with storm and darkness. It's been a long, unsettling night...
From such a beating, the garden came out completely naked, covered with wet leaves and somehow hushed, resigned. But on the other hand, how beautiful it was when the clear weather came again, the transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will now hang on the trees until the first frost. The black garden will shine through in the cold turquoise sky and dutifully wait for winter, warming itself in the sunshine. And the fields are already sharply turning black with arable land and bright green with bushy winter crops ...
You wake up and lie in bed for a long time. The whole house is silent. Ahead - a whole day of rest in the already silent winter estate. You will slowly get dressed, wander around the garden, find in the wet foliage an accidentally forgotten cold and wet apple, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like the others.
Dictionary of native nature
It is impossible to list the signs of all seasons. Therefore, I skip summer and move on to autumn, to its first days, when “September” is already beginning.
The earth is fading, but the “Indian summer” is still ahead with its last bright, but already cold, like a shine of mica, the radiance of the sun. From the deep blue of skies washed with cool air. With a flying web (“yarn of the Mother of God,” as ardent old women still call it in some places) and a fallen, wilted leaf that falls asleep on empty waters. birch groves they stand like crowds of beautiful girls in half-shawls embroidered with gold leaf. " sad time- eyes charm.
Then - bad weather, heavy rains, the icy north wind "siverko", plowing lead waters, coldness, coldness, pitch-black nights, icy dew, dark dawns.
So everything goes on until the first frost seizes, binds the earth, the first powder falls and the first path is established. And there is already winter with blizzards, blizzards, snowstorms, snowfall, gray frosts, landmarks in the fields, the creak of undercuts on the sledge, gray, snowy skies ...
Often in autumn I would closely watch the falling leaves to catch that imperceptible split second when the leaf separates from the branch and begins to fall to the ground, but I did not succeed for a long time. I have read in old books about the sound of falling leaves, but I have never heard that sound. If the leaves rustled, it was only on the ground, under the feet of a person. The rustle of leaves in the air seemed to me as unbelievable as stories about hearing the grass grow in spring.
I was, of course, wrong. Time was needed so that the ear, dulled by the rattle of the city streets, could rest and catch the very clear and precise sounds of the autumn earth.
Late one evening I went out into the garden to the well. I put a dim "bat" kerosene lantern on the log house and got some water. Leaves were floating in the bucket. They were everywhere. There was nowhere to get rid of them. Black bread from the bakery was brought with wet leaves stuck to it. The wind threw handfuls of leaves on the table, on the bunk, on the floor. on books, and it was difficult to groom along the paths of fat: you had to walk on the leaves, as if on deep snow. We found leaves in the pockets of our raincoats, in caps, in our hair - everywhere. We slept on them and soaked in their scent.
There are autumn nights, deafened and mute, when calmness stands over the black wooded edge and only the watchman's mallet comes from the village outskirts.
It was such a night. The lantern illuminated the well, the old maple under the fence, and the wind-torn nasturtium bush in the yellowed flower bed.
I looked at the maple tree and saw how a red leaf carefully and slowly separated from the branch, shuddered, stopped for a moment in the air and began to fall obliquely at my feet, slightly rustling and swaying. For the first time I heard the rustle of a falling leaf - an indistinct sound, like a child's whisper.
My house
Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich
It is especially good in the gazebo on quiet autumn nights, when a leisurely sheer rain rustles in an undertone in the salou.
Cool air barely shakes the tongue of the candle. Corner shadows from grape leaves lie on the ceiling of the gazebo. A night butterfly, resembling a lump of gray raw silk, sits on an open book and leaves the finest shiny dust on the page. It smells of rain - a gentle and at the same time pungent smell of moisture, damp garden paths.
At dawn I wake up. Fog rustles in the garden. Leaves fall in the mist. I pull a bucket of water from the well. A frog jumps out of the bucket. I douse myself with well water and listen to the shepherd's horn - he still sings far away, at the very outskirts.
It's getting light. I take the oars and go to the river. I'm sailing in the fog. The East is rosy. The smell of the smoke of rural stoves is no longer heard. There remains only the silence of the water, thickets of centuries-old willows.
Ahead is a deserted September day. Ahead - confusion in this wide world fragrant leaves, grasses, autumn wilt, calm waters, clouds, low sky. And I always feel this loss as happiness.
What are the rains
Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich
(Excerpt from the story "Golden Rose")
The sun sets in clouds, smoke falls to the ground, swallows fly low, roosters crow in the yards without time, clouds stretch across the sky in long misty strands - all these are signs of rain. And shortly before the rain, although the clouds have not yet pulled, a gentle breath of moisture is heard. It must be brought from where the rains have already fallen.
But the first drops are starting to drip. The popular word "dripping" well conveys the occurrence of rain, when even rare drops leave dark specks on dusty paths and roofs.
Then the rain disperses. It is then that the wonderful cool smell of the earth, first moistened by the dogge, arises. He doesn't last long. It is replaced by the smell of wet grass, especially nettle.
It is characteristic that, no matter what kind of rain it will be, as soon as it starts, it is always called very affectionately - rain. “The rain has gathered”, “the rain has let go”, “the rain washes the grass” ...
How, for example, is the difference between spore rain and mushroom rain?
The word "arguable" means - fast, quick. Spore rain pours steeply, strongly. He always approaches with an oncoming noise.
Particularly good is the spore rain on the river. Each drop of it knocks out a round depression in the water, a small water bowl, jumps, falls again and for a few moments before disappearing, is still visible at the bottom of this water bowl. The drop glistens and looks like a pearl.
At the same time, there is a glass ringing all over the river. By the height of this ringing, you can guess whether the rain is gaining strength or subsiding.
A small mushroom rain sleepily pours from low clouds. The puddles from this rain are always warm. He does not ring, but whispers something of his own, soporific, and is slightly noticeably fiddling in the bushes, as if touching one leaf or another with a soft paw.
Forest humus and moss absorb this rain slowly, thoroughly. Therefore, after it, mushrooms begin to climb violently - sticky butterflies, yellow chanterelles, mushrooms, ruddy mushrooms, honey agarics and countless grebes.
During mushroom rains, the air smells of smoke and the cunning and cautious fish - roach - takes well.
People say about the blind rain falling in the sun: "The princess is crying." The sparkling sun drops of this rain look like large tears. And who should cry with such shining tears of grief or joy, if not the fabulous beauty of the princess!
You can follow the play of light during the rain for a long time, the variety of sounds - from the measured knock on the boarded roof and the liquid ringing in the drainpipe to the continuous, intense rumble when the rain pours, as they say, like a wall.
All this is only a tiny part of what can be said about the rain ...
Iraida Michel
Summary of the lesson on familiarization with fiction. Reading the story "Autumn in the Forest" by I. S. Sokolov-Mikitov
Lesson on familiarization with fiction.
Reading a story« Autumn in the forest» I.S. Sokolova-Mikitova
Target. introduce children with a new work, to help understand the meaning of what they read; continue to teach to answer the questions posed, correctly formulating your thought; expand vocabulary children; educational area « Cognition» : consolidate knowledge about autumn months, omens autumn; educational area "Maths": fix score, colors; educational area "Communication": develop speech; educational area "Music": develop the perception of a musical work; educational area "Health": develop logical and imaginative thinking, attention, memory; general, fine and articulatory motor skills, oculomotor functions, visual acuity; educational area "Socialization": to cultivate love for this time of year, the ability to admire the beauty of nature; endurance, will.
vocabulary work: sultry, fine, necklace, edge
Equipment. Autumn leaf with a message, d/i "Mushrooms and berries", a work by I.S. Sokolova-Mikitova« Autumn in the forest» , reproductions of paintings about autumn, tape recorder, aids for visual gymnastics, medals.
Course progress.
Educator. Guys, we play a lot kindergarten. Do you want to visit the country of games today?
Here is the first game.
Psycho-gymnastics (charging for total relaxation) .
Get ready, we are trees.
We raise our hands up
We tense our muscles
Quietly swing branches.
Hands on your knees again
And now a little laziness.
relieves tension,
Coming relaxation.
We raise our hands again
We swing the branches again.
Hands on your knees again
And again, a little lazy.
And it becomes clear
Relaxation is nice.
Articulation gymnastics.
Your lips straight to your ears
I will stretch like a frog.
And now I'm an elephant
I have a trunk.
We liked to play
Let's do it all over again!
Breathing exercise.
The game "Who will blow stronger on the leaf"
Educator. Oh, guys, there is a note in the leaflet.
SOS message
"The evil wizard has bewitched in autumn forest all trees. They cannot now prepare for winter - shed their leaves, and with the onset of frost they may die. And the one who will complete all the tasks of the evil wizard will be able to save them. Help!"
Educator. Guys, let's save the forest from witchcraft?
Exercise 1. "Guess a riddle!"
If the leaves on the trees turn yellow,
If birds have flown to a distant land,
If the sky is gloomy, if the rain is pouring -
It's the time of year (autumn) called.
Guys, the evil wizard has bewitched autumn forest So today we are going to talk about autumn.
Questions. 1. What autumn months you know? Name.
2. What autumn month the first? What is November? October? How many autumn months?
Tell what proverbs and signs do you know about these months.
Fizminutka. « Autumn»
Between spruce soft paws
Rain cap, cap, cap.
Where the twig has long dried up
Gray moss, moss, moss
Where the leaf stuck to the leaf
Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom grew
Who found it, friends?
It's me! I! I!
Task 2. An evil wizard sent us a book in which story by Ivan Sergeevich Sokolov-Mikitov. You need to listen to this work very carefully and answer all the questions that the wizard asks you. But first the game "Explain the Word" (sultry, necklace, fine, edge)
Reading a story« Autumn in the forest» I.S. Sokolova-Mikitova
About what period autumn written story?
And where did he see and describe the beauty of gold autumn author? (in forest)
What would you call this work?
What is growing autumn along the forest edges? (mushrooms. berries)
What mushrooms can be seen in forest? And the berries?
Why in forest Are all sounds good? (sounds of nature in the city are harder to hear because of the noise)
What do migratory birds do autumn in the forest?
Why do birds fly away? What are birds afraid of more - hunger or cold?
What do we call the birds that stay over the winter?
Do you think the writer likes autumn? Why?
Guys, writers and poets convey beauty autumn with words, a artists paint pictures where they reflect their admiration for beauty autumn nature(viewing reproductions of artists dedicated to the topic autumn, I. Levitan, V. Polenova)
Sounds like « autumn song» P. I. Tchaikovsky (from the cycle "Seasons")
Children portray « autumn leaves»
Eye charger.
"Walking on autumn forest»
We came to autumn forest,
How many miracles are around here!
On the right - a birch in a dress is standing,
On the left, the tree is looking at us.
(Which of these trees is called coniferous, and about which - deciduous? Why conifer tree called "evergreen")
Drawing with the eyes of numbers - "3", "8".
Task 3. Game "Say the opposite"
Autumn early - late
Sunny - cloudy day
The sky is light - dark
The weather is cold - warm
The ground is wet - dry
Task 4. Game "What's wrong?"
Birch leaves turn yellow on the maple.
When it rains, it's dry outside.
autumn birds come from the south.
Summarizing lessons. Thank the children for helping to disenchant the forest. Presentation of medals.
The nights are darker, the morning mists are cooler. The dew does not dry until noon, the beads in spider webs sparkle like a necklace.
Necklaces, necklaces - a gift of autumn for a housewarming!
How long ago did elegant dances of butterflies and golden midges circle the meadows, the flowers died from the chirping of grasshoppers and the bumblebee suffocated in his velvet coat with a magnificent collar! Today everything is different. Grasses are mowed, haystacks darkened from the rains. Butterflies are not visible, the violins of violinist grasshoppers have fallen silent, and the fur coat has become fit for bumblebees. No one in the late flowers, only bumblebees, and they seem to have raised their thick black collars higher ...
In the morning, the wires of the power line are humiliated by swallows. Not today, tomorrow they are on their way.
The parade is carried out by killer whales. Everyone is here? Is everyone ready? As if on command, they all take off at once, make a circle or two over the fields, meadows, again humiliate the wires.
It's time to go, it's time. Goodbye, villages on hillocks! See you in the spring, fields and meadows of the dear side!
Ukhoronki
Everyone has their own little tricks, everyone hides as best he can. There are those that you can’t wait and you don’t think! Once in the fall, a beautiful mourning woman, a golden-eyed frog and a warty toad got into the habit of hiding under my canoe. I’ll turn the boat over in the morning, and the hangers-on are in all directions: a butterfly in flight, a frog in the water, a toad in the grass. I will return from fishing, I will turn the boat over for the night - the next morning under it is the same trinity!
And then he dismantled the woodpile - so the lizards hid between the firewood. Forest mice once settled in the birdhouse - the birdhouse turned into a mouse house. The shingles in the yard were folded - in it the bats lived. Every evening they flew out of the cracks and caught mosquitoes. Under the old trough, a family of shrews took root; so they darted back and forth in the evenings. The voles hid in the mound behind the house, every night the owl was on duty in the mound: would any one pop out? A spider in an eggshell settled in the mansions of white stone veins. And one dung beetle hid in a mushroom! He gnawed a passage in the leg and swarmed inside. So far, together with the mushroom, it didn’t hit the body. Although it was not called a load ...
Helpers are waiting
Trees, bushes and grasses rush to arrange their offspring.
Pairs of lionfish hang from the branches of the maple, they have already separated and are waiting to be plucked and picked up by the wind.
The grasses are also waiting for the winds: a bodyac, on the high stems of which lush tassels of grayish silky hairs are exposed from dry baskets; cattail, raising its stems with a top in a brown fur coat above the swamp grass; a hawk whose fluffy balls on a clear day are ready to scatter at the slightest breath.
And many other herbs, the fruitlets of which are equipped with short or long, simple or feathery hairs, are also waiting for the wind.
In the deserted fields, along the roadsides and ditches, they wait, but not the wind, but four-legged and two-legged ones: burdock with dry hooked baskets tightly stuffed with faceted seeds, a string of black three-horned fruits that so willingly pierce stockings, and tenacious bedstraw, small round fruitlets which they cling to and roll up in a dress so that they can be torn out only with a tuft of hairs.
Beginning of autumn
Today at dawn one lush birch stepped out of the forest into a clearing, as if in a crinoline, and another, timid, slender, dropped leaf after leaf onto the dark Christmas tree. Following this, as more and more dawn dawned, different trees I began to see differently. This always happens at the beginning of autumn, when, after a lush and common summer, a big change begins and the trees all begin to experience leaf fall in different ways.
I looked around me. Here is a tussock, combed by the paws of black grouse. Previously, it used to be that in the hole of such a hummock you would certainly find a feather of a black grouse or a capercaillie, and if it is pockmarked, then you know that the female was digging, if black - a rooster. Now, in the pits of combed tussocks, there are not feathers of birds, but fallen yellow leaves. And then here is an old, old russula, huge, like a plate, all red, and the edges are wrapped up from old age, and a yellow birch leaf floats in the dish.
Aspen is cold
On a sunny day in autumn, young multi-colored aspens gathered at the edge of the spruce forest, densely one to the other, as if it had become cold there, in the spruce forest, and they went out to bask on the edge, as in our villages people go out into the sun and sit on the rubble.
autumn dew
It was overshadowing. Flies bang on the ceiling. The sparrows are herding. Rooks - in harvested fields. Magpie families graze on the roads. Roski cold, gray. Another dewdrop in the bosom of the leaf sparkles all day.
Windy day
This fresh wind knows how to speak tenderly to the hunter, just as the hunters themselves often chat among themselves from an excess of joyful expectations. You can speak and you can be silent: conversation and silence are easy for a hunter. It happens that the hunter tells something animatedly, but suddenly something flashed in the air, the hunter looked there and then: “What was I talking about?” I didn’t remember, and - nothing: you can start something else. So the hunting wind in autumn constantly whispers about something and, without saying one thing, goes on to another; here came the muttering of a young black grouse and stopped, the cranes cry.
leaf fall
Here a hare came out of the thick fir trees under a birch and stopped when he saw a large clearing. He did not dare to go straight to the other side and went around the whole clearing from birch to birch. So he stopped and listened. Whoever is afraid of something in the forest, it is better not to go while the leaves are falling and whispering. The hare listens: everything seems to him as if someone is whispering from behind and sneaking. It is possible, of course, for a cowardly hare to gain courage and not look back, but something else happens here: you were not afraid, you did not succumb to the deception of falling leaves, but just then someone took advantage and grabbed you in the teeth from behind under the guise.
rowan blushes
Morning is light. There are no cobwebs at all on clearings. Very quiet. I hear zhelnu, jay, thrush. Mountain ash is very red, birches begin to turn yellow. White, a little more moths, butterflies occasionally fly over the mowed grass.
autumn leaves
Just before sunrise, the first frost falls on the clearing. Hide, wait at the edge - what is only being done there, in a forest clearing! In the twilight of dawn, invisible forest creatures come and then begin to spread white canvases all over the clearing. The very first rays of the sun remove the canvases, and a green place remains on the white. Little by little, everything white disappears, and only in the shade of trees and hummocks do little white wedges remain for a long time.
In the blue sky between the golden trees you won't understand what's going on. The wind blows leaves or small birds gather in flocks and rush to warm distant lands.
Wind - caring owner. During the summer, he will visit everywhere, and even in the densest places he does not have a single unfamiliar leaf. But autumn has come - and the caring owner is harvesting his crops.
Leaves, falling, whisper, saying goodbye forever. After all, it’s always like this with them: since you broke away from your native kingdom, then say goodbye, you died.
last flowers
Another frosty night. In the morning on the field I saw a group of surviving blue bells - a bumblebee was sitting on one of them. I tore off the bell, the bumblebee did not fly off, shook off the bumblebee, it fell. I put him under a hot beam, he came to life, recovered and flew. And on the neck of the cancer, in the same way, a red dragonfly froze overnight and, before my eyes, recovered under the hot beam and flew away. And grasshoppers in huge numbers began to fall from under their feet, and among them were cracklings, flying up with a crack, blue and bright red.
Forest in autumn
And how beautiful this same forest is in late autumn, when the woodcocks arrive! They do not stay in the wilderness itself: they must be sought along the edge. There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise; in soft air an autumn smell is poured, like the smell of wine; a thin mist hangs in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare, brown boughs of the trees, the still sky peacefully whitens; in some places the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot; tall dry blades of grass do not move; long threads glitter on the pale grass. The chest breathes calmly, and a strange anxiety finds in the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest, you look at the dog, and meanwhile your favorite images, your favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, impressions that have long since fallen asleep suddenly wake up; the imagination flies and flies like a bird, and everything moves so clearly and stands before your eyes. The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward, then irretrievably drown in memories. All life unfolds easily and quickly, like a scroll; man owns all his past, all his feelings, forces, all his soul. And nothing around him interferes - there is no sun, no wind, no noise ...
And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when the birch, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than summer, a small aspen grove all sparkles through, as if it is fun and easy for her to stand naked, the frost is still whitening at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind quietly stirs and drives the fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, rhythmically lifting scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered with willows, and, motley in the bright air, doves quickly circle over it ...
Autumn day in a birch grove
I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, about half of September. From the very morning a fine rain fell, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was erratic. The sky was now all clouded over with loose white clouds, then it suddenly cleared in places for a moment, and then behind the parted clouds a azure appeared, clear and gentle ...
I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled a little over my head; one could tell from their noise what season it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing thrill of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long talk of summer, not the timid and cold babble of late autumn, but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A light wind blew a little over the tops. The inside of the grove, damp from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun shone or was covered with clouds; at one time it lit up all over, as if all of a sudden everything was smiling in it ... then suddenly everything around it again turned slightly blue: the bright colors instantly went out ... and stealthily, slyly, the tiniest rain began to sow and whisper through the forest.
The foliage on the birch trees was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; only here and there stood one young woman, all red or all gold...
Not a single bird was heard: everyone took shelter and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of the tit tinkle like a steel bell.
Autumn
The chirping swallows flew south a long time ago, and even earlier, as if on cue, swift swifts disappeared.
In the autumn days, the children heard how, saying goodbye to their dear homeland, flying cranes were cooing in the sky. With some special feeling, they looked after them for a long time, as if the cranes were taking the summer away with them.
Quietly talking, geese flew to the warm south ...
People are getting ready for the cold winter. Rye and wheat have long been cut down. Prepared feed for livestock. They pick the last apples in the orchards. They dug up potatoes, beets, carrots and harvest them for the winter.
The animals are getting ready for winter. The nimble squirrel accumulated nuts in a hollow, dried selected mushrooms. Little mice-voles dragged grains into their burrows, prepared fragrant soft hay.
In late autumn, a hardworking hedgehog builds its winter lair. He dragged a whole heap of dry leaves under the old stump. All winter will sleep peacefully under a warm blanket.
Less and less, the autumn sun warms more and more sparingly.
Soon, the first frosts will begin soon.
Mother Earth will freeze until spring. Everyone took everything from her that she could give.
Forest in autumn
The Russian forest is beautiful and sad in the early autumn days. Against the golden background of yellowed foliage, bright spots of red-yellow maples and aspens stand out. Slowly spinning in the air, light, weightless yellow leaves fall and fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of light cobwebs stretched from tree to tree. The late fall flowers are still blooming.
Clear and clean air. Clear water in forest ditches and streams. Every pebble at the bottom is visible.
Quiet in the autumn forest. Fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Sometimes a hazel grouse will whistle thinly. And that makes the silence even louder.
Easy to breathe in the autumn forest. And I don't want to leave it for a long time. It's good in the autumn flowery forest... But something sad, farewell is heard and seen in it.
Antonov apples
I remember the early fine autumn. August was with warm rains at the very time, in the middle of the month. I remember an early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember a large, all golden, dried up and thinned garden, I remember maple alleys, the delicate aroma of fallen leaves and the smell of Antonov apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it's like it doesn't exist at all. Everywhere smells strongly of apples.
By night it becomes very cold and dewy. Breathing in the rye aroma of new straw and chaff on the threshing floor, you cheerfully walk home to dinner past the garden rampart. The voices in the village or the creaking of the gates resound through the icy dawn with unusual clarity. It's getting dark. And here's another smell: in the garden - a fire and strongly pulls the fragrant smoke of cherry branches. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: just in a corner of hell, a crimson flame is burning near the hut, surrounded by darkness ...
"A vigorous Antonovka - for a merry year." Village affairs are good if Antonovka is born: it means that bread is born too ... I remember a harvest year.
At early dawn, when the roosters are still crowing, you used to open a window into a cool garden filled with a lilac fog, through which the morning sun shines brightly in some places ... You run to wash yourself on the pond. The small foliage has almost completely flown from the coastal vines, and the branches are visible in the turquoise sky. The water under the vines became clear, icy and as if heavy. She instantly drives away the night's laziness.
You will enter the house and first of all you will hear the smell of apples, and then others.
Since the end of September, our gardens and threshing floor have been empty, the weather, as usual, has changed dramatically. The wind tore and ruffled the trees for whole days, the rains watered them from morning to night.
The liquid blue sky shone coldly and brightly in the north above heavy lead clouds, and behind these clouds the ridges of snowy mountain-clouds slowly floated out, the window in the blue sky closed, and the garden became deserted and dull, and it began to rain again ... at first quietly, cautiously, then more and more thickly, and finally turned into a downpour with a storm and darkness. It's been a long, unsettling night...
From such a beating, the garden came out completely naked, covered with wet leaves and somehow hushed, resigned. But on the other hand, how beautiful it was when the clear weather came again, the transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will now hang on the trees until the first frost. The black garden will shine through in the cold turquoise sky and dutifully wait for winter, warming itself in the sunshine. And the fields are already sharply turning black with arable land and bright green with bushy winter crops ...
You wake up and lie in bed for a long time. The whole house is silent. Ahead - a whole day of rest in the already silent winter estate. You will slowly get dressed, wander around the garden, find in the wet foliage an accidentally forgotten cold and wet apple, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like the others.
I have a good Russian forest in summer, autumn and spring.
On a quiet winter day, you used to go out into the forest on skis, breathe and not breathe. Deep, clean snowdrifts lie under the trees. Above forest paths lacy white arches bent under the weight of hoarfrost trunks of young birch trees. Dark green branches of tall and small firs are covered with heavy caps of white snow. The high tops of the firs are studded with a necklace of purple cones. With a cheerful whistle they fly from spruce to spruce, flocks of red-breasted crossbills sway on cones.
The winter forest is full of invisible life. Light traces of squirrels, small traces of forest mice and birds stretch from tree to tree. Only a very attentive person can observe life winter forest. You need to be able to walk quietly, listen and stop. Only then will all the wonderful beauty of the sleeping winter forest open before you.
The forest is good in early and late spring, when the turbulent life hidden from eyes and ears begins to awaken in it. melts winter snow. Overhead, thin birch branches showered with swollen resinous buds are visible. More and more heard in the forest bird voices. The first migratory birds begin to sing, heavy capercaillie lek in remote places. Fallen needles showered nostril snow under the fir trees. The first thawed patches appeared on the forest glades. On the exposed tussocks, strong green lingonberry leaves are visible. In some places, when warm, they begin to bloom, snowdrops-coppices grow like a carpet. It smells of resinous buds, tree bark. Thrushes sing. On the top tall tree, all in the rays of the rising sun, cooing a wild pigeon.
A joyful day will come - the edge of the birch forest will be covered with a green haze. Cuckoos cuckoo. In the mornings before dawn, red-browed handsome black grouse flock to the current. In the evening, long-nosed woodcocks are pulled over the tops of the forest, hork and zvirka. Wild ducks quack over the river. On the edge of the forest swamp, high in the sky, a snipe ram is running.
Much can be heard in the awakening spring forest. Fritillaries squeak thinly, invisible owls goog at night. In the impenetrable swamp, the cranes that have arrived in the spring lead round dances. Bees buzz over the yellow golden puffs of the flowering willow. And in the bushes on the banks of the river, the first nightingale sang loudly.
Which of you has not been in a hot summer in a cool dark forest? The most vociferous birds have fallen silent, the sonorous nightingales no longer sing along the edges of the forest.
You walk through the forest, taking a good look - you need to be able to find mushroom places, to know where which mushroom grows. Here under the trees mixed forest the cap of the boletus blushes. You bend down, cut off a thick mushroom root with a knife, carefully put the find in a basket. In some places, strong mushrooms come across, it's nice to pick up a coldish mushroom. Here, beautiful red fly agarics scattered in a wide round dance in a clearing. In the pine forest come across mushrooms. Boletus mushrooms densely sit in a young birch forest.
Fragrant tasty strawberries ripen in open forest glades. In the middle of summer, forest raspberries ripen. And along the edges of the swamps blueberries ripen, blush on green branches cowberry berries.
The Russian forest is especially beautiful and sad in the early autumn days. Against the golden background of yellowed foliage, bright spots of painted maples and aspens stand out. Slowly circling in the air, yellowed light leaves fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of sticky cobwebs are stretched from tree to tree. Quiet in the autumn forest. Fallen dry leaves rustle underfoot. In some places, the hat of the late boletus turns red. A hazel grouse will whistle thinly, cranes flying in a school will call high in the sky.
Something sad, farewell is heard and seen in the autumn forest. Indian summer called in the village this short autumn time. Transparent in autumn and clean air, clear water in forest streams. Each is visible at the bottom of a pebble. The late fall flowers are still blooming. Songbirds are preparing to fly away. No, no, a thrush will crackle in the forest, a hard worker woodpecker will knock on a dry tree. Still green, dropping ripe acorns, an old branchy oak stands on the edge of the forest. But the tops of the birches are already bare. Against the dark background of a continuous spruce forest, bright colors of maples and aspens are clearly visible. Light yellowed willow leaves have already flown around, floating on the water. It’s good in the autumn flowery forest, for a long time I don’t want to leave it, say goodbye to the golden autumn days.
