Music for happiness - gentle guitar

The first chord is light, a breath of wind, barely your fingers touch the strings. Disappearing quiet sound, E minor, is simpler and there is nothing ...
The first snowflake is light, translucent, carried by an almost imperceptible wind. She is a harbinger of snowfall, a scout who was the first to descend to the ground ...

The second chord - cleverly rearranged fingers of the left hand, the right one confidently and gently leads along the strings. Down, down, up is simple and gives the simplest sound. It is not a blizzard or a storm that is preparing - just a snowfall. There can be nothing complicated in it. Snowflakes begin to fly more often - the vanguard of the main forces, sparkling ice stars.

Further, the chords replace each other viscously and affectionately, so that the ear almost does not notice the transition from one sound to another. A transition that always sounds harsh. Instead of a fight - bust. Eight. The introduction is played and even if it is not an instrumental, which sounds triumphant and joyful during a summer downpour or viscous and bewitching in a blizzard, even if it is just chords folded together, the music surprisingly suits the snow outside the window, the white butterflies of winter, the icy tiny stars that all dance, dancing their dance in the night sky ...

Singing is woven into the music - quiet, the words are indistinguishable, they elude perception, interfere with the snowfall and the measured, natural beat of the heart. A clear rhythm and calm strength sound in them. The song has no end, it just gently intertwines with the dance of snowflakes and imperceptibly leaves, leaving the sky and snow alone ...
Cold and darkness conceal sounds and movements, reconcile the city with winter ...

And the Lord of Snowfall, who played his party on one of the rooftops, gently puts his guitar, dominating the elements, into a case. On his shoulders and on his hair there is snow, red merry sparks flash and go out - snowflakes reflect the light of distant lights. There is light in the windows of the house opposite. There are people who do not know how to weave the lace of the elements ...

The staircase is an ordinary staircase in a nine-story building. The doors, the elevator always occupied by someone, the dim light of the lamp on the landing ... The Lord of the Snowfall walks, holding his guitar, quietly and slowly walking up the steps. From the ninth floor to the first, carefully so as not to disturb the warm feeling of relaxed final happiness that comes after a completed game every time ...
And the habitually angry question of the mother who opened the door:
- When will you stop playing your games and start thinking at last?
It hits an open soul like a knife. The soft snowy wings, given by the fulfillment of the present, break, and only misunderstanding and resentment remain.
Why does she hit the patient himself? For what?..

At night, a wild wind, mixed with snow, walked through the city. I broke tree branches, tore wires, swept roads ...
It was the guitar of the Lord of Snowfall singing again.

June-Breadrost... Nature awakened by the beginning of summer and now its active growth begins, therefore the month is called - Khleborost. Rye is sprinkling, the gardens are filled with wildly blooming greenery. The sun rises high above the sky and begins to bake even stronger, the day becomes long, and the evening is long and warm.

June: warmth envelops the earth

Description of the nature of summer at its very beginning, in June (I - II week).
Summer has come. June. Nature blooms in summer, ripens, the gardens are full of greenery, the meadows are covered with a wide loop of green grass. Heavy cumulus clouds hover in the sky like huge ships. And although the month of May at the end spoiled with warm and hot summer days, the first June days were often cool, sometimes rainy. You should not be upset, because the lingering cloudy weather at the beginning of the month is not for long. A dry anticyclone will bring warm winds, and the high sun in the sky will provide warm and hot weather. In June, the air temperature is moderate without sharp jumps and averages +15 + 17 ° C.

Summer takes time to flare up. There are still long hot, sultry and just warm pleasant days ahead, when the sun wakes up early, but does not set very soon, giving plenty of exercise before plunging into twilight. And here the sun begins to bake, hot days come. The greens are in full bloom, presenting edible herbs. The sky is blue and clear, from time to time fluffy clouds float over it. The heated air exudes the scent of flowering.

And, suddenly, unexpectedly, the hot summer sun is replaced by the advancing clouds. The sky is rapidly darkening. After all, there was just the sun, and now it has been swallowed by a formidable darkness, advancing in front, covering all life in darkness. Nature is alarmed, the birds calm down, only strong gusts of wind intensify each time, ready to pluck branches from the tops of trees on their way.

Thunder strikes with the first volleys, and then, like a bucket of water, charges a downpour. The sky is not visible, only the reflections of lightning alternate with a crackling sound of thunder. The thunderstorm dies down as unexpectedly as it began. The sky is brightening, the flashes of lightning become less frequent, the thunder rolls go to the side. The first rays of the sun are peeking through, brightly reflected in the puddles. And again the life of the summer forest comes to life, the birds chirp happily, the animals come out of their shelters. Meanwhile, in the forest, in the most secret dark places, the first mushrooms appear.

The beginning of summer in the folk calendar

"The swallow begins the morning, and the nightingale ends the evening"

At the very beginning of summer, since ancient times in Russia, a unique rite of "baptism of the cuckoo" was performed. After the complete disappearance of winter, cold winds and bad weather, it was necessary to appease the summer nature to new vegetative forces, good weather and a noble harvest. In ancient Russia, the description of summer from the first days was like this. Early in the morning on the first Sunday of summer, Russian girls went into the forest to find orchis grass - they called it cuckoo's tears, and then, they plucked it, carried it to the hut to sew outfits, each for its own cuckoo. Then the cuckoos were numbered, meeting each other, people hugged and kissed. After becoming related to each other, becoming closer, together they brought the generosity of summer closer to themselves.

In June, bread rises, it is not for nothing that the month of June was called "grain grower". Throughout the first ten days of the month, active sowing took place in the fields, starting from the days of Falalei-Borage and Olena, June 2 and 3, from the name of which it is clear that these days were planted cucumbers, flax, belated wheat, as well as barley with buckwheat. On June 7, aphids appeared, feeding on plant juices, emitting honeydew. By June 11, ears of grain were already sprouting on Fedosya Chariot, by this time beans were planted. From early dawn to late dusk, people worked in the field in order to be in time until the end of sowing, which fell on the second half of June to the day of the equinox.

Summer in Russian poetry

Summer ... One of the most amazing, beautiful and brightest seasons. Summer nature is special and impressive. Every summer is associated with something different: sounds, smells, sensations. These are lush meadow grasses, the scent of wildflowers and even dusk, the coolness of a spruce forest. All the natural splendor of summer is reflected in the works of famous Russian poets. They dedicated a huge number of romantic, exciting lines to the beautiful time.

A real hymn to the awakening nature is an ode to the summer morning of Sergei Yesenin. Its summer is warm, washed with silvery dew, charming in its tranquility. This delightful natural idyll is scattered every day as the day dawns, to be reborn again the next morning.

Golden stars fell asleep,
The backwater mirror trembled,
The light dawns on the river backwaters
And blush the grid of the sky.

Sleepy birches smiled
Silk braids were tousled.
Rustling green earrings
And silver dew burns.

The wattle fence has overgrown nettles
Dressed in bright mother-of-pearl
And, rocking, whispers playfully:
"Good morning!"

Afanasy Fet in his work deeply describes nature in the summer, in particular, the lines of the poem "I came to you with greetings ...", evoke an association with the maturity of feelings, relationships. Allegorical lines convey a special acuteness of life and semantic fullness through romantic feelings, lightness of being and an aura of carelessness.

I came to you with greetings,
Tell that the sun is up
That it is hot light
The sheets fluttered;

Tell that the forest is awake
All woke up, with each branch,
Every bird shook
And the spring is full of thirst;

Tell that with the same passion
Like yesterday, I came again
That the soul is still happy
And I'm ready to serve you;

Tell that from everywhere
Fun blows on me
I don't know myself, that I will
Sing - but only the song matures.

Summer is different. Everyone sees him in his own way, experiencing sometimes mixed and contradictory, but invariably strong feelings.

June: the sun is turning

Description of summer nature in June (III - IV week).
The lilac continues to bloom, the smell of fresh grass spreads around the districts. Summer nature fills the air with herbal incense. Already the poplar has spread the down in its seeds, just to wait for light gusts of wind, spreading new life around. In the forest, in stables and reservoirs, the smell of spices is carried, no longer floral, but sweet herbal.

The greens are ripening with might and main, and now the strawberries have hatched by the end of the month. And the blueberries are already keeping pace with her, just have time to collect. In the morning you can hear the cry of swallows, in the afternoon frogs croak in the reservoirs, and the evening ends with a nightingale's lullaby. This time describes the summer nature as the most fertile warm season for working in the fields, evening walks and night gatherings around the fire.

A white blizzard of poplar fluff sweeps along the park alleys with a light wind, a kind of winter in fluffy warm snows. The glades are covered with white-headed hordes of dandelions, as if hundreds of little astronauts have landed on earth. Just about the wind, swaying the dandelions from side to side, will pick the seeds in parachutics and carry them home. The squeak of chicks is heard, coming from the crowns of the trees, the parents barely have time to feed the voracious maturing chicks. Young growth grows quickly, you will not notice how it will jump out of the nest, once or twice and flew.

Second half of the month in the national calendar

"The sun from Peter-turn softens the course, the month is profitable"

In June, a variety of plants, medicinal herbs bloom, Ivan da Marya rises, plantains, buttercups are at every step, Ivan-Chai is smoothed by warm winds. The forest edges are scattered in the juicy points of the berries. In the forest, you can pick up a lot of ripe strawberries, and a little later, wild strawberries will turn red on the bushes higher.

The day of June 25 is coming - the solstice point. From this time on, the sun turns towards shorter days. Now in the morning cold dew covers the grass low above the ground. This natural water can be drunk, because it is very clean, collected from settled air vapors, summer dew does not contain salt deposits. At the end of June, on the 29th, Tikhon comes, and, indeed, the sun shortens the course, yes, and the birds subside. The sun slowly, with unhurried steps, hangs in the sky. Only in the shade of the shelter of deciduous trees is there salvation from the incandescent rays growing in strength. Summer turns into hot July.

Summer in Russian painting

Russian artists very colorfully and variably convey a picture of a summer landscape. Here you can see majestic green trees, and a spike field, and an extraordinary turquoise sky with light gentle white clouds.

(Painting by Boris V. Shcherbakov "June in the Moscow Region")

The description of summer nature is unusually colorfully presented in the painting by Boris V. Shcherbakov "June in the Moscow Region", which depicts the real green of the forest. From the front right corner into the depths of the picture, meandering in a laid bed, lies the smooth surface of the river. On both sides of it there are powerful trees, it looks like pines mixed with deciduous species. On the right, almost by the river, a slender birch tree stands alone. In the foreground on the left are haystacks. The upper part of the painting is occupied by a clear sky, where only fluffy white clouds are visible.

A summer evening is like a calm sea after rough seas. As a rule, a summer day consists of many vivid situations, and even if nothing happens, then such a day is distinguished by a richness of experience. We see many bright colors, birds chirp from the very morning, various animals begin to move.

Therefore, a summer evening is like a quiet haven where the ship of your senses arrives after a busy and even a little strenuous voyage. In a summer evening, there is relaxation and pleasant peace, it stays with you for many years, it is full of warmth and kindness. This is especially felt in the suburbs, where the various phases of nature are much more noticeable and when the evening begins in summer, nature seems to be settling down to rest after a hard and fulfilling day.

It is so pleasant and calm to stay in the space of a summer evening. In fact, it does not matter where exactly to be on such an evening: on the bank of the reservoir and watch the water striders or listen to the light hum of the river; in a flooded meadow, watching a fire or listening to cicadas; walk in the woods and fields; watch the sunset in a comfortable armchair or cot; wander along the road to a meeting with friends. There is always a feeling of warmth and it’s not only about warmth, which is due to temperature, we’re talking about a subtle feeling of warmth, which gives the earth and space all day warmed by the caring sun.

These summer evenings are almost always filled with their own special music and it is so pleasant when nothing interferes with listening. It is best when there is an opportunity to enjoy the silence and various rare sounds that can be heard from the fields and trees. Summer music creates its own sensations, which are also remembered for many years.

In my opinion, a pipe or other similar instrument might be the best addition to such natural music. Something that conveys high tones and has a high melody. A simple pipe will perfectly complement the atmosphere of a summer evening.

Unlike the city, there is no stuffiness in the suburbs and the evening is tolerated easily and calmly. There is no need to look for opportunities to stay somewhere in the cool, to drink a refreshing drink. A summer evening in nature, as it were, he himself drinks with various tasty drinks, juices of these joyful moments and it seems as if only peace reigns on earth, and the world is as harmonious as it is possible to imagine and quiet joy forever lasts.

Composition 2

A summer evening is always gentle and pleasant, it manifests itself best during the period of sunset itself, when a warm heavenly body seems to cover the earth with a blanket of darkness, which does not absorb, but wraps up warmth. 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, who is eternally reborn.

Only in summer this sadness is felt in a special way, it is lighter, as it is shrouded in summer itself - the most life-affirming (apart from spring) period of the year, when you want to do so much, when the prospects seem limitless like fields filled with juicy grasses. This is the charm of a summer evening in the suburbs, it inspires hope, it creates a feeling of some kind of eternity and joyful eternity.

I especially like the summer evening stuffiness, which probably changes the density and humidity of the air and gives the impression of a domed sky. Sometimes on a summer evening, when it got pretty dark, the sky is felt not even like a dome, but like a ceiling, albeit quite high. You feel yourself in such a cozy palace or just a big warm house.

These thoughts and feelings unite and this comfort creates closeness between people, increases empathy. After all, it is much more pleasant with everyone to truly feel on a warm summer evening that you are just a part of a large house, cozy and common, in which everything is so calm and pleasant. Sometimes I even want to ask someone: "Don't you feel this, don't you feel like a warm and cozy dome, as if in a neat house?"

Probably, others also feel the same, and then, in an invisible way for the eyes, in the hearts of many people, pleasant lights-candles of this tender and warm feeling, this bright feeling, are lit. This inner fire really, like a soft candle, sanctifies the space and many, many such candles burn in the house on an evening summer or summer evening. It no longer matters, it is not essential how to describe these sensations in words, only they themselves remain.

A summer evening creates excellent conditions for a contemplative end to the day. Let everyone at least try to feel these pleasant moments for themselves.

Popov N.V. Joy of a teacher. Phenological observations // Donskoy Vremennik. The year is 2011. S. 60-65. URL: http: //www..aspx? Art_id = 715

PHENOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Literary sketches

Description of nature by seasons

Description of spring - March

It was March 1969. When spring-like days came, I impatiently walked along the still sticky road to the country grove.

The grove greeted me with the melodious murmur of a brook, which was rushing rapidly towards a ravine lost in the thick of bushes and trees. The muddy stream, crashing into the polluted piles of snow, exposed its lower clean layers, and in this snow-white fringe it began to look amazingly elegant.

In the depths of the grove, an open meadow is full of joyful spring hustle and bustle. Wherever you look - everywhere on the melted snow in the rays of the bright sun silvery streams gleam rhythmically. There are so many of them that it seems as if the earthly firmament itself has moved towards. The mirror-like surface of the puddles generously scattered across the glade gleams festively. In some places, tiny islands of thawed black earth triumphantly rise above the melted snow.

And around a dark wall stands a silent forest. And in this gloomy frame, the cheerful glade sparkled even brighter.

For more descriptions of March, see the tag#March

Spring Description - April

In the first half of April, dogwood is one of the first trees to bloom. All covered with bouquets of golden-yellow flowers, it burns like a night fire against the background of a dark, still bare 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 should know that it is a dogwood in bloom. Much more modest is the outfit of birch bark and elm blossoming a little later. Their thin branches with bunches of reddish anthers attract little attention of passers-by. And only hundreds of bees circling around the branches signal the height of flowering. Ash-leaved maple soon blooms. Having scattered branches and twigs far to the sides, he hung thickly on them a green fringe of long, long stamens with brown anthers. This outfit is not a beauty, but the bees cling to it. And not every beauty of the gardens attracts as many winged fans as the old maple. You walk past a humming tree and rejoice - spring!

For more descriptions of April, see the tag#April

Spring Description - May

May has come. And the calm watercolors of April were replaced by juicy, screaming strokes of the height of spring.This is the hottest time of the year for a phenologist, especially in hot, dry springs, when trees, shrubs, grasses seem to stray from the age-old rhythm of the spring carnival and begin to randomly and hastily clothe themselves in expensive holiday clothes.

The golden currant still burns furiously on the boulevards, the incessant rumble of bees over the triumphant cherries still stands and the fragrant bird cherry is just beginning to open its buds, as a white flame shot up high into the sky on impatient pears. The fire immediately spread to the neighboring apple trees, and they instantly burst into a pale pink glow.

The dry wind that had flown in, fanned the fire of spring even more, and it was as if a flower shower poured down to the ground. The horse chestnut, roughly pushing aside the beautiful lilac, arrogantly stepped forward with festive torches brightly burning among the dark foliage. Stunned by unprecedented audacity, the lilac managed to restore its shaken prestige only two days later, throwing thousands of luxurious white, cream, lilac, purple bouquets to the envy of neighbors.

For more descriptions of May, see the tag#May

Summer Description - June

In early June, the so-called "early summer" begins - the most intense, but also the most joyful time of the year, similar to a noisy holiday, when caring for the growing offspring powerfully takes possession of all wildlife.

From morning to evening, the bird choir does not stop in the steppe, groves and gardens. Thousands of discordant singers take part in it, whistling, chirping, chirping, croaking, squealing and squealing in every way. The air rings from loud and quiet, joyful and dreary, melodic and harsh sounds. Birds sing while standing, sitting and on the fly, during rest and during the hottest part of their working day. The avian world is seized with such joyful excitement that the songs themselves break free.

There is a swallow from early morning to late evening tirelessly dissecting the air in pursuit of midges for insatiable children. Here, it would seem, there is no time for songs. And yet the swallow, storming the sky, chirps something cheerful 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 the ringing trills of larks full of happiness in order to feel the enthusiastic thrill of the steppe that gripped it from edge to edge.

The bird choir is accompanied, as best they can, by field crickets, grasshoppers, bumblebees, bees, mosquitoes and mosquitoes, flies and flies and other countless host of insects chirping and buzzing.

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. Lying in rows along the water's edge, they jealously try to shout down each other.

But this feast of nature would not be a feast if the plants did not take the most ardent part 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 bizarre patterns from bright corollas of all colors of the palette.

The air is filled with the scent of wall grasses. Snow-white ships-clouds float high in the blue sky. The steppe is feasting.

For more descriptions of June, see the tag#June

Summer description - July, August

The jubilant early summer passes quickly, and by the end of June the steppe begins to burn out. The worst months for herbs are coming - July, August. The sultry sun without fire and smoke almost completely incinerated the steppe vegetation. A lifeless semi-desert breathed from the steppe. Not a single encouraging green speck is visible.

But near the scorched steppe, here and there, quilts, full of extraordinary brilliance, are still preserved. Over there, on the cliff, stepping down to the river valley, some mysterious spots whiten. But it's hard to guess what it is. Closer, closer, and in front of you a wonderful pale pink glade opens up, completely overgrown with low yurinei bushes (nogolovatka). Spreading wide on the ledge of the slope, it gently slopes down to the valley. An incessant hum of bees stands over thousands of pale pink bushes.

The glade is small, but it stands out so strikingly and beautifully against the background of tarnished herbs 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.

For more summer descriptions, see the tag#Summer

Autumn Description - October

October came, and with it the golden autumn, that autumn that asks for the artist's canvas, Levitan's - affectionate, pensively sad, indescribably beautiful.

Autumn does not like the screaming colors of a stormy spring, the blinding daring sun, the furiously roaring thunderstorm. Autumn is all in elusive tones - soft, gentle, charming. She listens with quiet sadness to the rustle of falling leaves, the silence of the retiring forest, the farewell cries of cranes in the high sky.

Shrubs give a lot of color to the autumn landscapes. Different in appearance, autumn color and brightness, they fill the undergrowth and forest edges with a motley crowd. Delicate blush of currants and scarlet lashes of wild grapes, orange-red hawthorn and crimson svidina, flaming scumpia and blood-red barberry, skillfully intertwining the compositions of autumn paintings, enrich them with a unique play of colors on their leaves.

On the edge of the forest stands a slender ash tree in a beautiful cloak of an innumerable multitude of elusive golden-greenish undertones emitting streams of calm light. Gilded openwork leaves are either sharply minted on the dark bark of the trunk and branches, then, hanging in the still air, they seem translucent, somehow fiery-fabulous.

A tall svidina, all engulfed in an autumn fire, having moved close to the ash tree, created an incomparable play of colors - gold and crimson. On the other side of the forest beauty, a low cotoneaster skillfully adorned its leaves with pink, red and orange tones and undertones and scattered them with bizarre patterns on thin branches.

This forest picture in nature is so good that, admiring it, you feel in your soul the feeling of wonderful music. Only on 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 the whole of nature that not to visit a forest or grove at this time means to lose something very valuable and dear.

For more descriptions of autumn, see the tag#Autumn

Beautiful, fabulous description of nature in winter

Not a single season of the year can compare in beauty and splendor with a snow-white elegant winter: neither a bright, cheerful, jubilant spring, nor a leisurely and dusty summer, nor an enchanting autumn in farewell dresses.

Snow fell, and outside the window suddenly appeared such a fabulously wonderful world, so much captivating beauty, poetry opened up in the closely watched street boulevards, squares and parks that it was impossible to sit in a room. I was irresistibly drawn to perceive with my own eyes the immense milky-white dome of the sky, and the myriads of playful snowflakes falling from the heights, and the revived trees and shrubs, and the whole transformed nature.

Winter has no other brush but white. But take a look at the inimitable skill with which she owns this brush. Winter does not just sweep over the autumn slush or the ugly traces of a broken thaw. No, she, skillfully using the play of light and shade, everywhere creates picturesque corners of the winter landscape, gives everything an unusual, artistic look.

In winter, smart clothes, one cannot recognize either a decrepit, gnarled apricot, or a rickety dilapidated hedge, or an ugly heap of garbage. In place of a faceless lilac bush, there suddenly appeared such a wonderful creation of the master-winter that in admiration in front of him you involuntarily slow down your steps. And really, you can't tell right away when the lilac is more charming - in May or now, in winter. Yesterday, the boulevards, sadly soaked in the rain, today, at the whim of winter, have become a festive decoration.

But the wizard of winter, in addition to magical snowflakes, has one more invincible weapon in store for conquering human hearts - precious pearls of frost.

Billions of needles of frost have turned modest squares into fabulous radiant palaces that suddenly appeared at the crossroads of streets. In the gloomily blackened hitherto bare forests, trees, throwing on fragile pearl clothes, stand like brides in wedding dresses. The restless wind, having flown on them, froze with delight on the spot.

Nothing moves in the air. Silence and silence. The kingdom of the fairy Snow Maiden.

The days of February are running by. And now again March is on the doorstep. And again, dozens of times we have seen previously seasonal pictures of nature pass before our eyes. Boring? But nature does not stamp its creations according to the age-old model. One spring is never a copy of another, just like the rest of the year. This is the beauty of nature and the secret of its enchanting power.

The charm of pictures of nature is like the charm of immortal works of art: no matter how much we admire them, no matter how much we revel in their melodies, they do not lose their inspiring 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.

For more descriptions of winter, see the tag#Winter

Nature Conservation and School Local Lore

Little remains to be said about nature conservation. The faithful guardian of nature is selfless love for her. Care of schoolchildren for the school garden, floriculture, experimental work on school grounds, at the stations of young naturalists - all this is not enough to educate schoolchildren in a loving, respectful attitude towards nature, their native steppe, and the forest. In all such pursuits, there is a certain selfish beginning. A schoolboy lovingly cares for "his" tree and immediately breaks "someone else's". The schoolgirl admires the richness of forms and colors in the gladioli and peonies she grows and does not notice the wonderful meadows in nature.

In the struggle for the preservation of native nature, school local lore may turn out to be one of the most effective measures. A teacher who is close to nature has a disinterested, respectful attitude towards it, unfeigned, without a shadow of any sentimentality, the manifestation of joyful emotions caused by the paints of many-sided nature, native landscapes, will involuntarily slip and be transmitted to schoolchildren on excursions, on hikes and other similar cases. This will strengthen the ranks of the faithful defenders of nature.

Finishing my story, I will note that I am not decrepit yet, a displeased grumbler to everyone. To the best of my ability, I continue to conduct phenological observations, I do not interrupt scientific ties with the phenocenter (Leningrad), I try to follow the methodological literature, I give feedback on the works that are sent occasionally, I write. In a word, I have not yet climbed onto the warm stove.

School phenology

I also put a lot of time and effort into school phenology. Phenological observations provide less food for the teacher's creative search than innovative work with visual aids, but they can also add a life-giving element to the teacher's work.

In 1918, in connection with the collection of the herbarium, I began to conduct fragmentary phenological observations of plants and some animals. Having procured some literature on phenology, I put my observations in order and continued them quite successfully.

In the spring of 1922, pupils of 5-6 grades of the railway school were involved by me in phenological observations. I made simple devices - a shadow gauge and a protractor, with the help of which the schoolchildren monitored the apparent movement of the sun. A year later, our first wall charts appeared, with colorful depictions of observed phenolic objects, the spring course of the sun, and temperature. There were no methodological guidelines on school phenology in the literature of that time, and, of course, my undertaking had blunders and failures. And yet it was an interesting, challenging job. Phenological observations often posed questions for me, for the solution of which it was necessary to vigilantly and thoughtfully look closely at the phenomena of nature, rummage in books, and then little secrets of nature were revealed.

Nothing escaped the vigilant eyes of schoolchildren either in early spring or in winter. So, on December 12, they noticed frogs swimming 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 so our first wall table with April phenon observations appeared in the classroom. What was not shown on it! Under the graph of the course of the sun and weather, drawn by me, in the order of occurrence of the phenomena, the following were depicted: the beginning of molting in a cow, horse, dog, cat, the passage of birds, the arrival of swallows, the appearance of lizards, frogs, butterflies, the flowering of grasses and trees, and others. The drawings were done by the students and pasted on old scribbled paper, which we had with difficulty obtained in the office of the railway station. The table was far from shining in appearance, but in terms of content it was interesting and educationally useful. We were proud of her.

Soon, having established contact with the research institute of the Central Bureau of Regional Studies (PPM), I began to send him summaries of my phenon observations. The knowledge that your observations are used in the research work of the pulp and paper mill and that 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 small and I was the only representative of the schools.

Starting with ingenuous observation of the course of seasonal natural phenomena, I gradually began to transform from a simple observer into an inquisitive local history phenologist. At one time, while working at the Novocherkassk Museum, I sent phenological questionnaires on behalf of the museum throughout the Azov-Black Sea region, repeatedly spoke at regional and city conferences of teachers with reports on the formulation 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 well remember the spring of 1952, which I met in the distant village of Meshkovskaya, lost in the Upper Don steppes. In this village, I lived with my sick wife, who needed the healing steppe air, for about a year. Having got a job as a ten-year-old teacher, in order to organize phenological observations, I began to scout out local opportunities for these classes. According to schoolchildren and local residents, in the vicinity of the village, in some places, remains of virgin steppes, untouched by the plow, have survived, and the gullies are overgrown with bushes, trees and grasses.

The local steppes differed in the species composition of plants from those of the Lower Don steppes known to me. For a phenologist, all this was extremely tempting, and I was looking forward to the arrival of spring.

As always, pupils of 6-10 grades were involved in phenological observations, and they live both in the village itself and in the surrounding farms, that is, 5-10 kilometers from it, which significantly expanded the area of ​​our pheno observations.

In early spring, a large wall plaque was hung in a conspicuous place at the school with the image of a still bare "phenological tree", on which seasonal phenomena were noted in the course of spring. Next to the table was a small board with three shelves, on which were bottles of water for displaying living plants.

And then on the table appeared images of the first messengers of spring: starlings, wild ducks, geese, and a few days later, to my amazement, and a bustard (?!). In the steppes of the Lower Don, there was no trace of this giant bird a long time ago. So our table gradually turned into a colorful "phenological tree", and living flowering plants with labels filled all the shelves. The table and the plants on display attracted everyone's attention. During the spring, students and teachers have about 130 species of plants. A small reference herbarium was compiled from them.

But this is only one side of the matter, so to speak, an official one. The other was the personal experiences of the phenologist teacher. We must not forget the aesthetic pleasure that I experienced at the sight of the lovely forest, in a great multitude of blues under the still sleeping trees in the ravine forest. I was alone, and nothing prevented me from perceiving the subtle beauty of nature. I had quite a few such joyful meetings.

I described my experience at the Meshkovskaya school in the journal Natural Science at School (1956, no. 2). In the same year, a drawing of my Meshkovsky "phenological tree" was included in the Great Soviet Encyclopedia (T. 44, p. 602).

Phenology

(Retiree)

After retirement, I took up phenology entirely. On the basis of his long-term (1934-1950) observations, he compiled a calendar of nature for Novocherkassk (The calendar of nature presents a list of seasonal natural phenomena, arranged in chronological order, indicating the average long-term dates of their occurrence in a given point. NP) and its environs.

I have 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 timing of various agricultural works. It was a research, painstaking work. Armed with Pomorsky's manual "Variational Statistics", I sat down to tedious calculations. Since the results of the analyzes turned out to be generally encouraging, I tried not only to find agricultural signaling devices among the flowering plants, but also to predict the time of their flowering, which significantly diminished the practical value of the proposed method. Hundreds of analyzes I have done have confirmed the correctness of the theoretical conclusions. The only thing left was to put the theory into practice. But this was the business of the collective farm agronomists.

Throughout my long-term work on the issues of agricultural phenosignaling devices, I had a business relationship with the phenosector of the Geographical Society (Leningrad). On this topic, I have made reports on several occasions at meetings of experts on the control of agricultural pests in Rostov, at the All-Union Congress of Phenologists in Leningrad (1957). My article "Phenosignalizers in plant protection" (Moscow, 1960) was published in the journal "Plant Protection". In 1961 Rostizdat published my small work Signals of Nature.

As an ardent popularizer of phenological observations among wide circles of the population, during my many years of activity in this field, especially after retirement, I made many reports, messages, lectures, conversations, for which I made at least a hundred wall tables and as many more small.

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 from the end of March to the end of October I was almost daily in the steppe or grove, I got so accustomed to nature that I felt among the plants, as if I were among my loved ones. friends.

You used to walk along the blooming June steppe and joyfully welcome old friends in your soul. You will bend over to the native inhabitant of the former steppe freedom - wild strawberries and "ask with your eyes" how she lives this summer. You stand in the same silent conversation near the mighty handsome iron ore and walk to other green acquaintances. After a long winter, there were always unusually joyful meetings with spring primroses - golden goose onions, delicate bouquets of tiny (1-2 cm in height!) Crumbs and other pets of early spring.

By that time, I was over seventy, and I still, like a three-year-old boy, admired every steppe flower. It was not senile lisping, not sugary sentimentality, but some kind of spiritualizing fusion with nature. Something similar, only incomparably deeper and thinner, is probably experienced by great artists of word and brush, such as Turgenev, Paustovsky. Aged Saryan not so long ago said: “I never cease to be amazed at nature. And I try to depict this delight before the sun and spring, before the blossoming apricot and the majesty of the gigantic mountains ”(Izvestia. 1966, May 27).

The years passed. In 1963 I turned 80 years old. Old man's diseases began to press. In the warm season, I was no longer able to leave, as in previous years, for 8-12 kilometers into the steppe or sit without getting up at my desk for ten hours. But I was still irresistibly drawn to nature. And I had to be content with close walks out of town.

The steppe beckons to itself with its endless expanses, mysteriously blue distances with ancient burial mounds on the horizon, the immense dome of the sky, the songs of jubilant larks ringing in the heights, and living multicolored carpets underfoot. All this causes high aesthetic feelings in the soul, enhances the work of fantasy. True, now, when the virgin land is almost completely plowed up, the steppe emotions have somewhat weakened, but the expanses of the Don and the distance remained just as immense and enticing. So that nothing distracts me from my observations, I always wander the steppe alone, and not along the rolled lifeless roads, but along the paths overgrown with an impassable thick of grasses and bushes, the steppe slopes untouched by the plow, rocky cliffs, deserted beams, that is, in places where steppe plants and animals are hiding from people.

Over the years of studying phenology, I have developed the habit and skills to look closely at the beauty of the surrounding nature, be it a wide open landscape or a modest violet lurking under a bush. This habit is also reflected in the urban environment. I cannot pass by the mirror puddles, scattered on the panel by the flowing 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 the golden caps of dandelions in passing, which flashed under the gateway that sheltered them.

When my shaky health didn’t allow me to wander around the steppe to my heart's content, I moved closer to the writing table.

Beginning in 1934, brief summaries of my phenological observations were published in the Novocherkassk newspaper Znamya Kommuny. 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 one with some pretense of artistry.

Once upon a time it was joyful to wander the steppe in search of plants unknown to you, to create new devices and tables, to work on the burning issues of phenosignalization. This developed creative thought and ennobled life. And now my creative imagination, which had quieted down in old age, again found application in literary work.

And the joyful torment of creativity began. To sketch a sketch of the life of nature for a newspaper or magazine, I often sat at my desk for hours. Notes were regularly published in Novocherkassk and Rostov newspapers. The knowledge that my notes open the eyes of the inhabitants to the beauty in the familiar surrounding nature and thereby call them to protect it, gave importance to these activities. On their materials, I wrote two small books: "Notes of a Phenologist" (1958) and "Steppe Etudes" (1966), published by Rostizdat.

"Good summer!" A short story about summer

Good summer! The golden rays of the sun generously pour on the earth. The river runs into the distance with a blue ribbon. The forest stands in a festive, summer decoration. Flowers - lilac, yellow, blue, scattered across the meadows, forest edges.

In summer, miracles happen sometimes. There is a forest in a green outfit, underfoot is a green grass-ant, completely covered with dew. But what is it? Yesterday there was nothing on this clearing, but today it is completely dotted with small, red, as if precious, pebbles. This is a strawberry. Isn't it a miracle?

Hedgehog puffs, rejoicing in delicious food. Hedgehog - he is omnivorous. Therefore, glorious days have come for him. And for other animals too. All living things rejoice. The birds are joyfully flooded, they are now in their homeland, they do not need 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.

Everything alive in the summer sings and triumphs.

"Summer morning". A short story about summer
Summer is a time when nature wakes up early. Summer morning is amazing. Light clouds float high in the sky, the air is clean and fresh, it is filled with the aromas of herbs. The forest river throws off a haze of fog. Skillfully 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 attentively, as if looking for something.

It is good to wander through the summer forest. Among the trees, pines are the highest. They ate, too, not small, but they do not know how to pull their top so high to the sun. You step gently on the emerald moss. What is there in the forest: mushrooms, berries, mosquitoes, grasshoppers, mountains, slopes. The summer forest is nature's storeroom.

And here is the first meeting - a large, prickly hedgehog. Seeing people, he gets lost, stands on the forest path, probably wondering where to go next?

"Summer evening". A short story about summer
The summer day is drawing towards evening. The sky gradually darkens, the air becomes cooler. It seems that it may rain now, but inclement weather is a rarity for the summer season. The forest is getting quieter, but the sounds do not disappear at all. Some animals hunt at night, the dark time of the day is the most favorable time for them. Their eyesight is poorly developed, but they have excellent sense of smell and hearing. Such animals include, for example, a hedgehog. Sometimes you can hear the turtle-throat moan.

The nightingale sings at night. During the day, he also performs a solo part, but among the polyphony it is difficult to hear and make out it. Another thing is at night. Someone sings, someone groans. But in general, the forest freezes. Nature rests in order to please everyone again in the morning.