Trails. "Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air invigorates tired forces"

Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous

The air invigorates tired strength;

Ice is not strong on the cold river

Like melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,

You can sleep - peace and space!

The leaves have not yet had time to fade,

Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights

Clear, quiet days ...

There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,

And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight,

I recognize my native Russia everywhere ...

I fly fast on cast-iron rails,

I think my thought ...

N. Nekrasov

Golden autumn

Autumn. Fairy palace

Open for everyone to review.

Forest paths clearings,

Looking into the lakes.

As in the painting exhibition:

Halls, halls, halls, halls

Elm, ash, aspen

In unprecedented gilding.

Linden hoop gold -

Like a crown on a newlywed.

The face of a birch - under the veil

Wedding and transparent.

Buried earth

Under foliage in ditches, holes.

In the yellow maples of the outbuilding,

As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September

At dawn they stand in pairs

And the sunset on their crust

Leaves a trace of amber.

Where you can't step into the ravine

So that it does not become known to everyone:

So raging that not a step,

There is a woody leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys

Echo at the steep descent

And dawn the cherry glue

It solidifies in the form of a clot.

Autumn. Ancient corner

Old books, clothes, weapons,

Where is the treasure catalog

Leafs through the cold.

B. Pasternak

Plums are falling in the garden

A noble treat to the wasps ...

Yellow leaf bathed in the pond

And welcomes the early fall.

He pictured himself as a ship

The wind of wanderings shook him.

So we will sail after him

To the moorings unknown in life.

And we already know by heart:

There will be a new summer in a year.

Why is universal sadness

In every line of poetry?

Because there are traces in the dew

Wash away the showers and cold out the winters?

Because all the moments

Fleeting and unique?

L. Kuznetsova

"Autumn. Silence in the dacha village ..."

Autumn. Silence in the dacha village,

And desertedly ringing on the ground.

A cobweb in a transparent air

Cold as a crack in glass

Through the sandy pink pines

The roof is turning blue with the cockerel;

In a light haze, the velvet sun -

Like a peach touched by a fluff.

At sunset, lush, but not abrupt,

The clouds are waiting for something, frozen;

Holding hands, emanate brilliance

The last two, the most gold ones;

Both turn their faces to the sun,

Both fade at one end;

The elder one carries the feather of the firebird,

The youngest is a feather of a fire chick.

N. Matveeva

Overnight

October! .. Trees await snow,

The floods of the rivers were quietly locked up ...

I chose a stack for myself for the night

Where the night found me on the way.

Like fireflies in a slumbering swamp

The stars trembled in the black heights;

The earth chilled on its night flight

In a dream, she clung tenderly to me.

And I, covering my feet with dry straw

And putting a gun under his head,

I got warm myself and soon little by little

He warmed up a huge one - her ...

The dawn flowed into the breaks of leaden clouds,

For the whole day, for many, many years

The earth gave me the sun again,

From the dark night

Into the dawn!

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

It's early September.
Autumn comes into its own, quietly sneaks up and penetrates the city squares, park streets. This is especially felt in the morning.
You go out into the street and see the first fallen yellow leaves under your feet. Of course, already from mid-August, they begin to turn yellow with golden gray on the trees, especially on birches, but I still think that this is not true, because it is still summer in the yard. And now you look and understand: yes, autumn has come.
I don't know why, but I loved morning walks and even jogging. Now I enjoy the autumn melancholy, which gives me more strength and energy than summer. Paradox)))
There was one verse that I really like, though it's about August. Its meaning is that when you live in a village, you notice all the signs and changes in nature. The city is oppressive, and apparently that's why you want to run away from the bonds of it. And autumn intensifies this desire.
E. Bondareva
He will still pass through the steppes through the groves,
Berries will taste in the forest,
Echoes with good songs,
Will drink ripe dew from the leaves.
He will get lost in the fields, he will be forgotten
And he will fall asleep in a childish sound sleep.
Get up in the morning - and will not admire
In the bins filled with grain.
Simple, without much mark,
August appeared in the courtyard.
They wouldn't even notice him in the city,
If not for the leaf on the calendar.

So I live in a large metropolis, I don't notice a thing and already long years I dream of getting out into nature for a little longer, into the forest, in the field, on the lake, taking a walk in quiet solitude, thinking about life, healing my wounds, stopping and looking back.

Many people, not only me, now want to sit alone with nature, be silent, look at her, and she would look at you.

But listen to Paustovsky's words about autumn!

Paustovsky "Distant years"
“It was already September. Dusk was approaching. Those who have not seen the Kiev autumn will never understand the delicate charm of these watches.
The first star lights up above. The lush autumn gardens are silently waiting for the night, knowing that the stars will surely fall to the ground and the gardens will catch these stars, like in a hammock, in the thick of their foliage and lower them to the ground so carefully that no one in the city will even wake up and know about it. "

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

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

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

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

So, at first I skimmed through these letters, then I stopped and read.

Paustovsky left for inspiration in the wilderness, to the Ryazan Territory, or rather to Solotcha. And so he writes beautiful letters to his beloved Tatyana. How he loves her more life etc.

I look at the date - May 1945 ... It would seem that these letters should be filled military theme, the jubilation of victory, but there is not even a hint ... One love, one sensation internal state souls. Somewhere I read a couple of years ago the phrase that In Leningrad there lived a couple in love who did not notice the Blockade. Maybe a real Leningrader-siege would not like this statement, but it seems to me very succinct.

“Four o'clock in the morning, dead silence, only the clock is knocking ... On September 24 in the evening I left for Solotcha. I didn't want to stay in Moscow. I wanted loneliness, deaf, complete.

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

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

“The day before yesterday I sent you a second telegram. Then I went into the meadows behind the old bed of the Oka, on the so-called "Island". (For God's sake, do not stop reading the letter in this place, it will be interesting further.) The island is huge, it is surrounded on all sides by water, - the Oka and its old channel. It was sun, blue day, frost lay in the shade. And since I was thinking all the time about one sweet woman who is now so far away, I wandered until dusk. Towards evening I approached the old riverbed and saw that there was no bridge, it was flooded and the water was rushing a meter above it. Then only I learned that on the Oka, in connection with the end of navigation, all the locks were opened and the second flood of the Oka, which was usual here in late autumn, began. The water was coming in before our eyes, I was alone on the island, it was far from Solotcha. It got dark, clouds overtook, the wind blew, and thick snow began to fall. And there was not a single haystack near. And the cold was doggy. And I realized that I was in a very bad story. And I thought about you all the time. Fortunately, I had matches, I hardly lit a fire, they noticed him from afar in the evening from the other side, and the red-haired peasant Lyukhin came to pick me up in a boat in the dark and storm. He told me: "This is a trump case that I noticed you, otherwise by morning the whole island will surely flood."

In the morning I looked out of the mezzanine windows - the gray Oka water was rolling in shafts in the place of the island, and retroactively I felt scared. How can you not think about the strangeness of life here. "

How anxiously he spoke about his third wife Tatyana: " Tenderness, my only person, I swear on my life that such love (without boasting) has never been in the world. There was not and will not be, all the rest of love is nonsense and delirium. Let it beat calmly and happily your heart, my heart! We will all be happy, everyone! I know and believe ... “Probably only in nature such inspired thoughts, stories, images are born. It is difficult to concentrate and write anything in the city.

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

First of all, I remember in autumn the story of Leonid Andreev "Kusak". I read it as a child and it sunk into my soul. It seems to me that it is useful for children to read this, it helps to form in them pity and compassion for our smaller brothers.

( A dog living in an empty dacha sees only bad things from people all his life. The owners come to the dacha. The dog gets used to them, but in the fall they leave, again leaving it alone).

The story of Platonov "The Cow" also seems to me autumnal, but this is a completely hopeless story, so I will not talk about it here. It just seems to me that you need to read it someday as a classic. At school, it seems, in the 7th grade, we passed Platonov and this story shocked me.

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

While looking for an illustration, I found a wonderful painting by Rakhmanova Inessa "The Pantry of the Sun".

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

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

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

Of course autumn mood transmitted to me in Astafiev's prose, but here there is less lyricism and more adventure.

Especially colorful pictures of nature in the film "Taiga Story" (based on the work of Astafiev). Akimka comes to nature, for the winter in a small house, and there lies a dying city girl. Akimka left her, but it took more than one month. And around there are no medicines and help ... mother taiga ...

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

In 1913, sad news spread all over the world. The giant ocean liner "Titanic" was killed in collision with an iceberg. Experts explained the causes of the disaster in different ways. They agreed that in the fog the captain did not see a huge floating ice mountain and, having hit it, the ship ended its earthly existence.

If we look at this unfortunate event through the eyes of a chemist, we come to a very unexpected conclusion: the Titanic fell victim to yet another water anomaly.

Frightening blocks of ice - icebergs float like a cork on the surface of the water. Lumps in tens of thousands of tons.

This is because ice is lighter than water.

Try to melt any metal and throw a piece of the same metal into the melt: it will instantly sink. In a solid state, any substance has a greater density than in a liquid state. Ice and water are amazing exceptions to this rule. If it were not for this exception, all reservoirs of middle latitudes would quickly freeze to the bottom: all living things would perish here.

Remember Nekrasov's poems:

The ice is not strong on the icy river,

Like melting sugar lies ...

Strong frosts will hit, the ice will get stronger. Will stretch along the river winter road... But under the thick layer of ice, as before, water will flow. The river will not freeze to the bottom.

Ice, the solid state of water, is an exceptionally peculiar substance. There are several types of ice. In nature, one is known, the one that melts at zero degrees. Scientists in laboratories, using high pressures, have obtained six more ice varieties. The most fabulous of them (ice VII), found at a pressure of more than 21,700 atmospheres, could be called hot ice. It melts at a temperature of 192 degrees above zero, at a pressure of 32 thousand atmospheres.

It seemed that there could be more mundane picture of melting ice. But what amazing things happen!

Any solid substance begins to expand after melting. The water produced by melting ice behaves quite differently: it contracts and only then, if the temperature continues to rise, begins to expand. This is again due to strong ability water molecules attract each other. At four degrees above zero, this ability manifests itself especially sharply. Therefore, at this temperature, water has the highest density; therefore, our rivers, ponds and lakes, even in the most severe cold weather, do not freeze to the bottom.

You rejoice at the arrival of spring, admire the beautiful days of golden autumn. Joyful spring drops and the crimson dress of the forests ...

Again, an anomalous property of water!

It takes a lot of heat to melt the ice. Incomparably more than for the melting of any other substance taken in the same quantity.

When the water freezes, this heat is released again. Ice and snow, giving off heat back, warm up the earth and air. They soften the harsh transition to a harsh winter and allow autumn to reign for several weeks. In spring, melting ice delays the onset of hot days.

We offer you beautiful autumn poems by N. Nekrasov. Each of us knows well from childhood poems by Nekrasov about autumn, and someone reads them to their children and grandchildren. These poems are included in school curriculum for different classes.
Short Nekrasov helps not only to develop speech and memory, but also to get acquainted with beautiful time year autumn.

Nikolay Nekrasov - Autumn

Before - a village holiday,
Today - autumn is hungry;
There is no end to women's sorrow,
Not for beer and wine.
He's been raving about mail since Sunday
Our Orthodox people,
He goes to town on Saturdays,
He walks, asks, learns:
Who is killed, who is injured in the summer,
Who was missing, who was found?
In some hospitals
Have the survivors been transported?
Is it so creepy! Vault of heaven
Dark at noon as in the night;
Doesn't sit in a cramped hut
Does not lie on the stove.
Well fed, warmed up, thank God,
Only to sleep! No, you are not sleeping
So it pulls on the road,
You can't go to bed for anything.
And the striker is on our way!
They carry a lot of crippled people,
What's behind them on the hillock,
How the carriages pass
Human moans
Clearly audible at dawn.

Nikolay Nekrasov - Verse Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired strength;
Ice is not strong on the cold river
Like melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
I recognize my native Russia everywhere ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...

Nikolay Nekrasov - Uncompressed strip

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty

Only one strip is not compressed ...
She leads a sad thought.

The ears seem to whisper to each other:
"It's boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bow down to the ground
Fat grains bathing in dust!

Every night we are ravaged by the villages
Every passing voracious bird

The hare tramples on us, and the storm hits us ...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we worse than others?
Or did they bloom and ears uncommonly?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
The grain has poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind scatters us? .. "

The wind gives them a sad answer:
- Your plowman does not have a lozenge.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor man - he does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought out these furrows,
They dried up to splinters, hung like whips.

Like a plow, leaning on the hand,
The plowman walked thoughtfully in a line.

“Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous ... "(excerpt from the poem" Railway»)

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous

The air invigorates tired strength;

Fragile ice on the frozen river

Like melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,

You can sleep - peace and space!

The leaves have not yet had time to fade,

They lie yellow and fresh like a carpet ...

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights

Clear, quiet days ...

A hundred parsecs road New names and directions. "Distant" subject - new stage science. Man and machine. Cybernetic story of A. Dneprov. Philosophical and fantastic story of G. Gora. Union of "myths" and "numbers". "Anti" is a fantastic short story by I. Varshavsky. Fantastic

The road to nowhere Alexander Green, a man who for most of his short life balancing between two worlds - "come true" and "unfulfilled" - by an unkind irony of fate entered the history of Russian literature as an author " Scarlet sails", his only novel, which