Nagibin Yuri. Favorites (collection)

Have you seen him? - Anna Vasilievna asked excitedly.
- Himself?.. Alive?.. - Savushkin sighed. - No, it didn’t happen. I saw his nuts.
- What?
“Spools,” Savushkin explained shyly.
Slipping under the arch of a bent willow, the path ran down to the stream again. In some places the stream was covered with a thick blanket of snow, in others it was encased in a pure ice shell, and sometimes living water could be seen through the ice and snow with a dark, unkind eye.
- Why isn’t he completely frozen? - asked Anna Vasilievna.
- There are warm springs in it. Do you see the trickle there?
Leaning over the hole, Anna Vasilievna saw a thin thread stretching from the bottom; Before reaching the surface of the water, it burst into small bubbles. This thin stem with bubbles looked like a lily of the valley.
“There are so many of these keys here,” Savushkin said with enthusiasm. - The stream is alive even under the snow...
He swept away the snow, and tar-black and yet transparent water appeared.
Anna Vasilievna noticed that, falling into the water, the snow did not melt; on the contrary, it immediately thickened and sagged in the water like gelatinous greenish algae. She liked it so much that she began to knock the snow into the water with the toe of her boot, rejoicing when a particularly intricate figure was sculpted from the large lump. She got the taste and did not immediately notice that Savushkin had gone ahead and was waiting for her, sitting high in the fork of a branch hanging over the stream. Anna Vasilievna caught up with Savushkin. Here the effect of the warm springs had already ended; the stream was covered with film-thin ice. Quick, light shadows darted across its marbled surface.
- Look how thin the ice is, you can even see the current!
- What are you talking about, Anna Vasilyevna! It was I who shook the bitch, and that’s where the shadow runs...
Anna Vasilievna bit her tongue. Perhaps, here in the forest, it’s better for her to keep quiet.
Savushkin again walked ahead of the teacher, bending down slightly and carefully looking around him.
And the forest kept leading them and leading them with its complex, confusing passages. It seemed that there would be no end to these trees, snowdrifts, this silence and sun-pierced darkness.
Suddenly, a smoky blue crack appeared in the distance. The redwoods replaced the thicket, it became spacious and fresh. And now, not a gap, but a wide, sunlit opening appeared ahead. There was something sparkling, sparkling, swarming with icy stars.
The path went around a hawthorn bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides: in the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, like a cathedral, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off; the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.
- So here it is, winter oak!
It shone all over with myriads of tiny mirrors, and for a moment it seemed to Anna Vasilyevna that her thousand-fold repeated image was looking at her from every branch. And it was somehow especially easy to breathe near the oak tree, as if even in its deep winter sleep it exuded the spring aroma of blossoms.
Anna Vasilievna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the mighty, generous guardian of the forest quietly swung a branch towards her. Not knowing at all what was going on in the teacher’s soul, Savushkin was fiddling around at the foot of the oak tree, casually treating his old acquaintance.
- Anna Vasilievna, look!..
With effort, he rolled away a block of snow, covered underneath with earth and the remains of rotting grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted cobweb-thin leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.
- Look how wrapped up he is! - Savushkin carefully covered the hedgehog with his unpretentious blanket.
Then he dug up the snow at another root. A tiny grotto with a fringe of icicles on the roof opened up. There was a brown frog sitting in it that looked like it was made of cardboard; her skin, rigidly stretched over her bones, seemed varnished. Savushkin touched the frog, it did not move.
“Pretending,” Savushkin laughed, “as if she were dead!” Let the sun play and it will jump!
He continued to lead her around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards, boogers. Some were buried under the roots, others hid in the cracks of the bark; emaciated, as if empty inside, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree, overflowing with life, has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself. Anna Vasilyevna was peering with joyful interest into this unknown, secret life of the forest when she heard Savushkin’s alarmed exclamation:
- Oh, we won’t find mom anymore!
Anna Vasilyevna shuddered and hastily brought her bracelet watch to her eyes - a quarter past four. She felt as if she was trapped. And, mentally asking the oak tree for forgiveness for her little human cunning, she said:
- Well, Savushkin, this only means that the shortcut is not the most correct. You'll have to walk on the highway.
Savushkin didn’t answer, he just lowered his head.
"My God! - Anna Vasilyevna then thought with pain. “Is it possible to admit your powerlessness more clearly?” She remembered today's lesson and all her other lessons: how poorly, dryly and coldly she spoke about the word, about language, about that without which a person is mute in front of the world, powerless in feeling, about language, which should be just as fresh, beautiful and rich, how generous and beautiful life is.
And she considered herself a skilled teacher! Perhaps she has not taken even one step on that path for which a whole human life is not enough. And where does it lie, this path? Finding it is not easy or simple, like the key to Koscheev’s casket. But in that joy she did not understand, with which the guys called out “tractor”, “well”, “birdhouse”, the first milestone was dimly visible to her.
- Well, Savushkin, thank you for the walk! Of course, you can walk this path too.
- Thank you, Anna Vasilievna!
Savushkin blushed. He really wanted to tell the teacher that he would never be late again, but he was afraid to lie. He raised the collar of his jacket and pulled his earflaps down deeper:
- I will accompany you...
- No need, Savushkin, I’ll get there alone.
He looked at the teacher doubtfully, then picked up a stick from the ground and, breaking off its crooked end, handed it to Anna Vasilyevna:
- If the elk jumps on you, hit him on the back, and he will fight. Better yet, just swing - he's had enough! Otherwise he will get offended and leave the forest altogether.
- Okay, Savushkin, I won’t beat him.
Having walked not far away, Anna Vasilievna last time I looked back at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw a small dark figure at its foot: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And with all the warmth of her heart Anna Vasilievna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but small man in worn felt boots, mended, poor clothes, the son of a soldier who died for his homeland and a “shower nanny”, a wonderful and mysterious citizen of the future.
She waved to him and quietly moved along the winding path.

Old turtle

Vasya inhaled the air, rounding his nostrils, and was penetrated to the very depths by the strong, stuffy smell of the beast. He looked up. A small sign hung above the door; on it, in colors faded by the southern sun, was written: “Pet Shop.” Behind the dusty glass of the display case, the boy could hardly see the dusty stuffed animal of a long-legged beaked bird.
How little we know the streets we walk on day after day! How many times did Vasya go to the beach along this very street, he knew every house there, a lamppost, a chestnut tree, a shop window, every chip in the sidewalk and pothole in the pavement, and suddenly it turned out that he had not noticed the most important thing on this street.
But you shouldn’t think about it, rather go there, into this wonderful, mysterious twilight...
The mother followed her son with her usual humility. The cramped, dark store was uninhabited, but, like an abandoned den, it retained the living, warm spirit of its recent residents. There was a pile of dry fish food on the counter, empty bird cages hanging from the ceiling, and in the middle of the room there was an aquarium covered with shells, illuminated by a dim electric light bulb; long, twisting algae, trembling slightly, entwined the slimy stone grotto. This entire underwater kingdom was given over to the undivided possession of a pitiful blood vessel-like bloodworm, which quietly wriggled, glued to the ribbed surface of the shell.
Vasya stood at the aquarium for a long time, as if hoping that the dead splendor of the watery kingdom would suddenly come to life, then dejectedly headed into the dark depths of the store. And then his jubilant cry was heard:
- Mom, look!
The mother immediately understood everything: the same selfless cry preceded the appearance in the house of an aquarium with fancy fish, cages with songbirds, a collection of butterflies, a two-wheeled bicycle, a box with carpentry tools...
She approached her son. In the corner of the store, at the bottom of a straw-lined box, two tiny turtles were moving. They were no larger than Vasya’s fist, surprisingly new and clean. The turtles fearlessly climbed the walls of the box, slipped, fell to the bottom and again, nimbly moving their light paws with hard claws, climbed to the top.
- Mother! - Vasya said soulfully, he didn’t even add the rude word “buy”.
“We’ve had enough of fussing with Masha,” the mother responded tiredly.
- Mom, look at their faces!
Vasya never knew anything was denied, everything was given to him according to pike command. This is good in a fairy tale, but for Vasya the fairy tale went on too long. He will go to school in the fall. What will it be like for him when he discovers that the spell has lost all power and life must be taken with difficulty and patience? The mother shook her head negatively:
- No, three turtles in the house is too much!
“Okay,” Vasya said with defiant humility. - If so, let's give Masha back, she's still very old.
- You know, this is empty talk.
The boy turned away from his mother offended and said quietly:
- You just feel sorry for the money...
“Of course, he is small and is not guilty of either bad or good,” thought the mother, “you just need to explain to him that he is wrong.” But instead of calm, wise words of teaching, she said sharply:
- Enough! Let's get out of here now!
It was a strange morning for Vasya. On the beach, every stone seemed to him like a small golden turtle. The sea jellyfish and algae that touched his feet when he swam near the shore were also turtles that fawned over him, Vasya, and seemed to be asking for friendship. In his absent-mindedness, the boy did not even feel the usual joy of swimming, indifferently came out of the water at the first call of his mother and slowly walked after her. On the way, his mother bought his favorite pink grapes and handed him a heavy bunch, but Vasya tore off only one berry and forgot to eat it. He had no desires or thoughts, except for one, persistent, like an obsession, and when they arrived home, Vasya knew exactly what to do.

During the day, the old turtle was always buried in secluded places: under the wardrobe, under the sofa, and crawled into a dark, cluttered closet. But now Vasya was lucky: he immediately found Masha under his bed.
- Masha! Masha! - he called her, standing on all fours, but the dark round cobblestone did not show any signs of life for a long time.
Finally, something moved in the gap between the shields, then a bird’s beak stuck out, followed by the entire naked, flattened head with the eyes of a dead bird covered with a horny film. Stubby paws have grown along the sides of the cobblestones. And then one front paw slowly, as if thinking, rose, twisted slightly and sank to the floor with a faint thud. After her, the second one started working just as slowly, thoughtfully and clumsily, and about three minutes later Masha crawled out from under the bed.
Vasya put a piece of apricot on the floor. Masha stretched her wrinkled, sinewy neck far forward, exposing the thin, also wrinkled membranes with which she was attached to her shell, pecked a piece of apricot like a bird and swallowed at once. From the second slice offered by Vasya, Masha turned away and crawled away. In rare moments, when Masha felt the urge to move, her bulging eyes did not notice any obstacles; with a sleepy and stubborn step, waddling regularly, she walked forward and forward, striving for some distance known to her alone.
There was no more unnecessary creature in the world than Masha, but she was good for something: you could sit on her and even stand on her. Vasya reached out to Masha and pressed her with his hand; under his palm she continued to scrape the floor with her outstretched paws. Its shell, consisting of uneven squares and rhombuses, seemed to have become all embroidered with age, deep grooves lay where the seams were, and for some reason Vasya decided not to sit on it. He picked Masha up from the floor and looked out the window. The mother lay in a hammock, her light head did not even press down the pillows, the book she was reading fell out of her downward hand. Mother was sleeping. Vasya hid Masha under his shirt and quickly went outside.

Above the thinned-out bazaar, half asleep from the heat, a child’s voice sounded high and sad:
It seemed to Vasya that he had been standing there for many, many hours; the direct, cruel rays of the sun baked his poor uncovered head, sweat flowed from his forehead and blurred his vision, the stone-heavy Masha painfully pulled back her hands. He felt a languid, aching weakness throughout his whole body, and he was drawn to sit down on the dusty ground.
- Turtle! Turtle for sale!
Vasya pronounced these words more and more muffled, as if he was afraid and wanted to be heard. But people, busy with their work, passed by him indifferently; they did not see anything unusual in what for Vasya was perhaps the most difficult test in his entire little life. If only he could find himself again in his native, abandoned world, where he lived so well under his mother’s faithful protection!
But as soon as Vasya allowed himself to this thought, his home immediately lost all its charm for him, became unlovable and boring, because then he would have to forever abandon the cheerful golden turtles.
- Wow, turtle! This is exactly what I need!
Vasya got so deep into himself that he shuddered in surprise and almost dropped Masha from his hands. In front of him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, apparently a longshoreman, looking at the old turtle with a kind of childish admiration.
-Are you selling, boy?
- Yes…
- How much are you asking?
“Nine...” Vasya said embarrassedly, remembering the price they asked for two turtles in the pet store.
- Nine? Won't you take less?
“I can’t…” Vasya whispered. He was very ashamed.
- Well, if you can’t, I’m crying! You see, my little son is going home tomorrow, to the Tambov region, so I want to give him something like that...
The loader rummaged in his pockets and pulled out two green and one yellow pieces of paper.
“I don’t have nine with me, you know,” he said worriedly, “exactly seven.”
Vasya was in despair; he did not know how to help this big and, apparently, kind man. “I will never, ever trade again.”
“Wait a minute, kid,” the loader suddenly appeared, “I live close here, come to my place, I’ll bring you the money!”
And so they walked out of the market together. Vasya was very happy, everything turned out so well, he was proud of his first achievement in life, and besides, he liked to walk now next to this strong and courageous man, as an equal with an equal. To the right, in the clear vision of the street, the midday sea opened up, and against its sparkling background Vasya saw the iron hands of cranes working on a small boat standing at the pier. Huge soft bales, one after another, descended from the sky onto the deck, and it seemed strange to the boy that the boat was not sinking under all this load. He wanted to ask his companion where the ship was sailing, but did not have time.
- Here they come, boy. Wait here, I'll be right there!
Vasya stood in front of a white one-story house, surrounded by densely overgrown acacia bushes. It seemed strange to him that such a big man lived in such a small house, but he immediately forgot about it and began to peer carefully into the windows located along the facade. He really wanted to see the boy who would get Mashka.
“Oh, it’s a pity, my little son is not at home,” the loader said when he appeared, “otherwise we would have met.” He is independent, just like you, little guy. Here, take the coin! Just do the math: money loves counting!
“No, why…” Vasya muttered and handed Mashka to the buyer.
He took it in his large palms and put it to his ear, like a watch.
- Isn’t it empty inside?
Masha, as luck would have it, did not show up from her stone dwelling, and Vasya even felt offended that she was parting with him so indifferently. And the loader, placing the turtle in front of his eyes, looked into the gap between the shields.
- No, it looks like something is working there! Well, be healthy, little guy, thank you.
“Tell you what, her name is Masha...” Vasya suddenly spoke quickly and excitedly. - She loves fruit very much and drinks milk too; it’s only believed that turtles don’t drink milk, but she drinks, really, she drinks...
“Look,” the loader grinned, “you’re a simple creature, but there you go!”
He put Masha in the wide pocket of his jacket and walked towards the house. And Vasya looked after him in confusion. He wanted to tell a lot more about Masha, about her habits, whims and weaknesses, that she was a good and kind turtle and that he, Vasya, had never known anything bad about her. There was a strange tingling in his nose, but he frowned, held his breath for a moment, and the tingling stopped. Then he clutched the money tightly in his fist and rushed as fast as he could to the pet store.

When Vasya brought home two little turtles and, in joyful excitement, told his mother about all his adventures, for some reason she was upset, but did not know what to say or how to act in this case. And if so, it’s better to wait and think, because children are such complex and difficult people...
“Yes, yes,” she said thoughtfully and sadly, “cute little animals.”
Vasya did not notice how the second half of the day passed. The kids were extremely funny, brave and inquisitive. They crawled all over the room, moving in circles towards each other, and when they collided, they did not turn to the side, but climbed on top of each other, knocking shell against shell. Unlike the old, gloomy Masha, they did not try to hide in some secret corner, and if they were buried at times, it looked like a game of hide and seek. And they weren’t picky either: no matter what Vasya treated them to - apples, potatoes, grapes, milk, cutlet, cucumber - they devoured everything with eagerness and, with their beady eyes widening, seemed to ask for more and more.
At night, Vasya put them in a box with sand and placed them in plain sight, against the head of his bed. Going to bed, he said to his mother in a happy, tired, half-asleep voice:
- You know, mom, I love these turtles so much!
“It turns out that the old friend is no better than the new two,” the mother remarked, covering her son with a blanket.
There are words that seem simple and harmless, which, when said at the right time, appear again and again in your memory and do not allow you to live. In the end, Mashka is not even his friend, Vasya, but just an old, decrepit turtle, and he doesn’t want to think about her at all. And yet he thinks not about what a great fellow he is that he managed to get these two cheerful kids with whom it will be so interesting to play tomorrow, but about the same useless Masha. It seems alarming, not good...
Why didn’t he tell that man that Masha should be hidden in the dark at night? And now, probably, the green light of the month is shining into her old eyes. And he has not yet said that by winter she needs to make a cave out of a cotton blanket, otherwise she will wake up from her hibernation, as happened in the first year of her life with them, and then she may die, because during hibernation turtles do not accept food. He didn’t even really explain what to feed Masha, because she’s so picky...
Of course, he can go tomorrow and say everything, but will the new owners want to bother so much with old Masha? True, that man seems to be very kind, Vasya consoled himself, probably his son is just as kind. But peace did not come. Then he pulled the blanket over his head to quickly fall asleep, but Masha’s naked, unblinking bird eyes again appeared in front of him, reflecting the merciless green light of the month.
Vasya threw off the blanket and sat down on the bed. He no longer felt either pity for Masha or irritation against his mother, who refused to keep three turtles in the house. All this was replaced in him by some incomprehensible, painful feeling of dissatisfaction with himself, self-resentment. This feeling was so big and unfamiliar that it did not fit in Vasya, he needed to be given an outlet, and Vasya tried to cry. But nothing worked out. This bitter, caustic feeling dried up all his tears.
For the first time, Vasya no longer thought that he was the best boy in the world, worthy of having the best mother, the best toys, the best pleasures. “But what did I do? - he asked himself with longing. “I sold an old turtle that was completely unnecessary to me.” “Yes, you don’t need her,” was the answer, “but she needs you.” Everything good in the world was for you, but who were you for?” - “I feed the birds and fish, I change their water.” - “Yes, as long as you have fun with them, and if you don’t have fun, you will do the same to them as you did to Masha.” - “Why can’t you do that?”
Vasya could not find the answer, but the answer was in his troubled heart, which for the first time learned a simple but previously unknown truth: not only the world exists for you, but you also exist for the world. And with this new feeling, that new inevitable command arose in him, the name of which - duty - Vasya learns much later. And this command made Vasya jump out of bed and quickly put on his clothes.
The light of the month lay on the floor in two squares, each crossed out with a black cross. In the silence, my mother’s tiny wrist watch clearly ticked. Wake up mom? No, his new, soft, warm heart told Vasya, mom is tired, and it’s so difficult for her to sleep. You have to do everything yourself...
Vasya groped for the box and took out the turtles, two smooth, heavy round pieces, as if filled with mercury. But this may not be enough, and he must act for sure. Putting the turtles under his shirt, Vasya sent the box with new tin soldiers there, then thought, took the gun off the nail and hung it over his shoulder.
Leaving the room, the boy quietly closed the door behind him. He had suspected before that strange things were happening in the world at night, and now with some kind of fading triumph he said to himself: “I knew it,” seeing that the apple orchard had crept up almost to the porch itself, and the outbuilding in which the owners lived fell into the black, shadowed depths of the yard.
Old Naida's puppies scampered around the yard, and each puppy rolled a black ball of its shadow in front of it. Affectionate and friendly during the day, they did not pay the slightest attention to Vasya, busy with their nightly business. Only Naida herself, sniffing Vasya’s scent through her nostrils, muttered muffledly and clinked her chain. The feeling of the unfamiliar hostility of the world sadly pinched the boy’s heart.
With difficult steps, Vasya approached the trees whitened by the moon. There was not the slightest breeze, but all the leaves on the trees were moving, rustling and faint creaking stood over the garden, as if the trees were talking about something of their own, nocturnal. And Vasya remembered his idea that trees go swimming in the sea at night. He came up with this half-seriously, surprised that during their entire stay in this region it had never rained, but trees cannot live without moisture. But now this notion gave him an unpleasant chill.
Something flew past his face, touching his cheek with a slight flutter of wings. Bat? No, the bat rips through the darkness with such speed that you can guess it rather than see it. And now he managed to notice behind the frequent beating of the wings a plump, spindle-shaped body.
"Dead Head!" - Vasya guessed and immediately saw her: a large butterfly, folding its wings into a triangle, sat on the trunk of an apple tree, lit as if by day. A skull with black spots of eye sockets and a slit mouth was clearly visible on its wide back. The tireless night flyer was in his hands, from now on his collection will be replenished with a new, large specimen. Vasya already felt how the giant butterfly covered with his hand began to beat, tickling his palm. But full of some new, caring attitude towards all living things, Vasya suppressed the feeling of a hunter in himself and only stroked the waxed back of the hawk moth with his little finger. As if trusting him, the hawk moth did not take flight, but sleepily moved its antennae and crawled a little higher. On his short path, he touched a beetle sleeping on the same trunk. The beetle raised its dorsal corneas, scratched its hind legs one against the other and, without entering into an argument - there was enough room for everyone - it moved a little, but only ineptly: it crushed the leg of its neighbor, some long dry booger. And so dozens of small creatures began to stir on the trunk of the apple tree and went back to sleep.
Vasya watched their sleepy confusion with a smile; he did not even suspect that there were so many of them here, on this thin stem. They bury themselves, hide during the day, how much effort they spend to protect themselves from him, Vasya, but now - here you go! - lay down in all their defenselessness. And he mentally wished them Good night, like an older brother in life.
Vasya went out into the street with a calm and confident step of a strong and kind person, but he is still far from becoming the master of the night. The moon stood high in the sky. Flooded with its light, the pale expanse of the street glowed coldly and strangely. And at its far end rose a blank black wall, cut by a silver slit. "Sea!" - a guess flashed. During the day, the sea, flat as water in a saucer, now reared up and hung menacingly over the city. Vasya looked back at the gate.

The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off, and the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.

Anna Vasilyevna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the magnanimous, powerful guardian of the forest swung a branch towards her.

“Anna Vasilievna, look,” said Savushkin and with effort he rolled away a block of snow with earth stuck to the bottom and the remains of rotten grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.

The boy continued to lead the teacher around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards. boogers. Emaciated, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree overflowing with life has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself.

Having walked far away, Anna Vasilyevna looked back for the last time at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw at its foot a small dark figure: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And Anna Vasilievna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but a little man in worn felt boots, mended clothes, the son of a soldier who died for his homeland, a wonderful citizen of the future.

(According to Yu. Nagibin) 232 words

1. - Hello, dear colleagues!

I invite you to “see the unusual in the ordinary.”

2. The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, like a cathedral, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads.

3. Film.

4. Introduction to the topic.

How difficult it is to find the truth in the most trifling matter.

Let's try to find the truth in Yuri Markovich Nagibin's story “Winter Oak” by asking ourselves the questions: about whom?, about what?, why?

5. Work in groups.

The work of analyzing excerpts from the work, which we will do in groups, will help us answer these questions.

Read the episodes from the story and express your opinion on the question posed on the card.

6. Working with the audience.

The oak was a sacred tree of many peoples, including the ancient Slavs, it was worshiped as a deity .

Today it remains a symbol of courage, perseverance,endurance, longevity, nobility, loyalty, protection.

Many writers turn to the description of oak:

Maybe someone will recognize the passages they heard and name the work and its author.

1. “The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him” (Leo Tolstoy “War and Peace”)

2. I saw an oak tree.

He's hundreds of years old

Stretching the roots deeper and deeper,

Stayed firmly on the ground

The crown of the head props up the sky.(Ivan Kashpurov “Oak”)

3. Look at him: he is important and calm

Among its lifeless plains.

Who says that in the field he is not a warrior?

He is a warrior in the field, even alone. (Nikolai Zabolotsky “Lonely Oak”)

4. Near Lukomorye there is a green oak;

Golden chain on the oak tree:

Day and night the cat is a scientist

Everything goes around and around in a chain. (Alexander Pushkin)

What meaning do the descriptions of oak in these works carry?

7. Result of the groups’ work.

The time has come to sum up the work of the groups.

The first group presents us with a substantive analysis of the text: about whom?

Please have your say.

1) The world of childhood is presented in the story as joyful, serene, thirsty for knowledge - colorful world childhood.

2) Young, considered herself experienced, cheerful, self-confident. Everyone appreciates and respects her. Glory to a skillful, experienced teacher.

3) Small, in worn-out felt boots, a spontaneous village boy, living in the surrounding nature, enjoying its amazing beauty, sincere and honest.

4) One of the main characters of the story. Savushkin speaks about him as a living being, despite the shouts and laughter of his comrades: “Just oak - what! Winter oak is a noun!”

5) The father died in the war, the mother is raising four children, a hardworking, kind woman.

6) Residents of Uvarovka are kind, respectful people.

7) Winter guests.

The second group gives us the meaning subject analysis text, the main idea of ​​the work, access to moral values, components of personal spirituality: what?

1) Joy, admiration, a surge of feelings, delight.

2) Self-confidence, arrogance.

3) When a person is left alone with nature, he becomes himself, sincere and honest, ingenuous and simple.

4) The beauty of nature. An enchanted world of peace and soundlessness.

5) Her self-confidence disappears when a little boy teaches her in the forest. She walked the same path as her student.

6) Wealth and beauty inner world hero.In the future, it will become the same guardian of the forest as the oak tree.

Have your say.

Summary (mine)

To understand how beautiful the world is in which man and nature can be happy, because they are one;

To understand that there is another person’s world and you need to accept it as your own;

To appreciate life.

The oak is the guardian of the forest, and man is the guardian of the whole world.

Thanks for communication!

Exercise 378

Condition:

Read the text. As you read, pay attention not only to the development of events, but also to how expressively the author writes and what kind of pictures he creates. Mark those combinations of words and sentences that made the greatest impression on you.
Winter oak
As soon as Anna Vasilievna and Savushkin entered the forest, they were immediately transported to an enchanted world of peace and silence.
All around is white and white. Only in the heights do the tops of the birches turn black, and the thin branches seem to be drawn in ink on the blue surface of the sky. Sometimes, among the ice and snow, the living water of the stream looked with an unkind eye.
- Why isn’t he completely frozen? - asked Anna Vasilievna.
- There are warm springs in it. There is so much passion here! - Savushkin spoke with enthusiasm. - The stream is alive even under the snow.
The path went around a hazel bush. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, a huge and majestic oak tree stood. Its lower branches spread out over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The oak tree was covered with snow-covered leaves to the very top.
So here it is, winter oak!
Anna Vasilyevna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the mighty, generous guardian of the forest quietly swung a branch towards her.
Savushkin was busy at the foot of the oak tree, casually treating his old acquaintance. With effort, he rolled away a block of snow that had stuck to the ground underneath. In the hole lay a ball wrapped in rotted leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.
- That's how I wrapped myself up! - Savushkin carefully covered the hedgehog with his unpretentious blanket.
Then he dug up the snow at another root. There sat a brown frog that looked like it was made of cardboard. Savushkin touched the frog, it did not move.
“He’s pretending,” Savushkin laughed. - It's like she's dead. Let the sun warm up and it will start jumping!
He continued to lead the teacher around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards, boogers. They were all sleeping in their winter sleep. The strong tree accumulated so much heat around itself that the poor animals could not have found a better apartment.
Anna Vasilyevna peered with joyful interest into this, unknown to her, secret life of the forest when she heard the boy’s alarmed voice:
- Oh, we won’t find mom anymore!
Anna Vasilievna hastily brought the clock to her eyes - a quarter past three. She felt as if she was trapped.
- Well, Savushkin, this only means that the shortcut is not the most correct. But thanks for the walk anyway.
Savushkin blushed. He really wanted to tell the teacher that he would never be late for class again.
Having walked far away, Anna Vasilyevna looked back at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw under it a small figure of a boy. And she suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but a small man in worn felt boots.
According to Yuri Nagibin
Read the words correctly: little world, little world, little world: below.
What is this text about? Formulate a general theme, name the subtopics that are subordinate to it and help to reveal it. Title the parts of the text that are related to a particular subtopic of the text.
Look at the drawing. Which part of the story does it correspond to? Did the artist manage to convey what the author of the work wanted to express? How would you change the drawing to accurately match the content of the story.

Answer:

The text tells the story of a boy who revealed amazing secrets to his teacher. winter forest. The theme of the text is a description of the mysterious world of the winter forest. Titled parts of the text (subtopics): 1. Peace and quiet of the forest. 2. Unfrozen stream. 3. Majestic oak. 4. Savushkin found a hedgehog at the foot of an oak tree. 5. Guests at the foot of the oak tree. 6. The meeting with Savushkin’s mother did not take place. 7. Amazing little man.