Description of nature in beautiful words. Composition on the theme “Nature

Summer is a wonderful time of the year. Long sunny days give way to short warm nights. Most often the weather is clear, and the boundless blue sky stretches overhead. The trees are lavishly dressed in bright green robes. Under them, grass grows thickly everywhere, dotted with colorful lights of summer flowers - poppies, bluebells, clover, tansy, chamomile, marigolds ... And above them butterflies flutter and all sorts of goosebumps buzz.

Summer decorates gardens and orchards. Juicy cherries ripen, followed by apricots and peaches. Large red strawberries lean low to the ground. Gradually

Until recently, green tomatoes “sunbathe” in the rays of the summer sun. Here and there cucumbers are tied on the arches. The tenacious thorny branches of the blackberry are completely dotted with sweet dark purple, almost black berries. And so everywhere - a riot of color, a feast of fertility, a pleasant feeling of warmth and comfort.

Summer has a wonderful sonorous voice - it is singing high in the sky or birds hidden in the branches of trees - the maestro nightingale, the morning lark, the cheerful chatterbox sparrow. And in the late afternoon, the music of summer changes - the chorus of crickets enters, which does not stop until the morning.

And even the rain in summer is warm and gentle. Under the tent of the low

The cloud of air becomes hot. Cool raindrops wash away dust from roads and foliage, making it sparkle with an even purer emerald glow.

Summer is bright, colorful… June is not like August, and July has something to please the eye. High clear sky, warm clear water of rivers, ripe fruits, saturated colors around... There is no person in the world who would not love summer!

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Essays on topics:

1. Summer is my favorite season of the year. Not because the longest holidays begin, but because it's warm. In the summer there is...
2. Night hid behind a magic cloud, and a pink morning descended on the earth. The sun is about to rise. Its rays are already lit on...
3. Here comes the spring. And with the advent of spring, all nature around is transformed. At first, the days increase, and the temperature gradually rises by ...

June-Khleborost. Nature woke up by the beginning of summer and now its active growth is coming, therefore the month is called - Khleborost. The rye is earing, the gardens are filled with vigorously 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 and ripens in summer, the gardens are full of greenery, the meadows are covered with a wide train of green grass. Soar slowly in the sky, as if huge ships, heavy cumulus clouds. And although the month of May at the end indulged in warm and summer-like hot days, the first days of June are often cool, sometimes rainy. You should not be upset, because the protracted 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 needs time to heat up. There are still long hot, sultry and simply warm pleasant days ahead, when the sun wakes up early and sets very slowly, giving plenty of work up before plunging into twilight. And here the sun begins to bake, hot days come. The greenery is in full bloom, endowing with edible herbs. The sky is blue and clear, from time to time fluffy clouds float across it. Warm air exudes the aroma of flowering.

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

Thunder strikes with the first volleys, and then, with water like from a bucket, it charges a downpour. The sky is not visible, only the reflections of lightning with a crackle alternate with peals of thunder. The storm subsides as suddenly as it began. The sky is brightening, lightning flashes are becoming less frequent, thunder is receding. The first rays of the sun peep through, brightly reflected in the puddles. And life again summer forest comes to life, the birds chirp happily, the animals come out of their hiding places. Meanwhile, in the forest, in the most hidden dark places, the first mushrooms appear.

Beginning of summer in the folk calendar

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

At the very onset of summer, from ancient times in Russia, a unique rite "the cuckoo's baptism" was performed. After the complete departure of winter, cold winds and bad weather, it was necessary to cajole summer nature into new plant forces, good weather and for a good harvest. AT 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 orchid grass - they called it cuckoo's tears, and then, plucked it, carried it to the hut to sew outfits, each for its own cuckoo. Then the cuckoos cummed, meeting each other, people hugging and kissing. After all, becoming related to each other, becoming closer, together they brought the generosity of summer closer to themselves.

Bread sprouts in June, not for nothing that the month of June was called "grain-growing". Throughout the first ten days of the month, active sowing took place in the fields, starting from the days of Falaley-Borage and Olena, June 2 and 3, from the names of which it is clear that cucumbers, flax, belated wheat, as well as barley and buckwheat were planted these days. On June 7, aphids appeared, feeding on plant sap, releasing honeydew. By June 11, ears of bread were already rising on Fedosya-Chariot, by this time beans were planted. From the earliest dawn until late sunset, people worked in the field in order to be in time before the end of the sowing, which fell on the second half of June on the day of the equinox.

Summer in Russian poetry

Summer… One of the most amazing, beautiful and vibrant seasons. Summer nature is special, impressive. Everyone associates summer with something of their own: sounds, smells, sensations. These are juicy meadow grasses, the aroma of wildflowers and even dusk, the coolness of a spruce forest. All the natural splendor of summer is reflected in the work of famous Russian poets. They devoted a huge number of romantic, exciting lines to the beautiful time.

A real hymn to awakening nature is Sergei Yesenin's ode to a summer morning. Its summer is warm, washed with silvery dew, charming in its calmness. This delightful natural idyll shatters every day with the onset of the day into fragments of everyday worries, in order to be reborn again the next morning.

Golden stars dozed off,
The mirror of the backwater trembled,
Light shines on the river backwaters
And blushes the grid of the sky.

Sleepy birches smiled,
Tousled silk braids.
Rustling green earrings,
And silver dews are burning.

The wattle fence has an overgrown nettle
Dressed in bright mother-of-pearl
And, swaying, he 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. The allegory of the lines conveys the special sharpness of life and semantic fullness through romantic feelings, the lightness of being and the aura of carelessness.

I came to you with greetings
Say that the sun has risen
What is hot light
The sheets fluttered;

Tell that the forest woke up
All woke up, each branch,
Startled by every bird
And full of spring thirst;

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

Tell that from everywhere
Joy blows over me
I don't know what I will
Sing - but only the song matures.

Summer is different. Everyone sees it in their own way, sometimes experiencing mixed and conflicting, but invariably strong feelings.

June: the sun is turning

Description of the summer nature of June (III - IV week).
The lilac continues to bloom, the smell of fresh grass spreads through the districts. Summer nature fills the air with herbal incense. The poplar has already spread its fluff in the seeds, just to wait for the light gusts of wind that carry new life around. In the forest, in stalls and ponds, the smell of spices spreads, 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 blueberries are already keeping up with her, just have time to collect. In the morning, the cry of swallows is heard, in the afternoon frogs croak in the reservoirs, and the evening ends with the lullaby of a nightingale. This time describes summer nature as the most fertile warm time of the year for working in the field, evening walks and nightly gatherings around the fire.

A white blizzard of poplar fluff rushes through the park alleys with a light wind, a kind of winter in fluffy warm snows. The clearings are covered with white heads of hordes of dandelions, as if hundreds of small astronauts have landed on the ground. Just about the wind, shaking the dandelions from side to side, will pluck the seeds in the parachutes and carry them home. The squeak of chicks is heard, coming from the crowns of trees, parents barely have time to feed the voracious maturing chicks. The young growth grows quickly, you will not notice how it will already jump out of the nest, once or twice and flew.

The second half of the month in the folk calendar

"The sun from Petra-turn softens the course, the month goes to profit"

The most blooming in June different plants, medicinal herbs, Ivan da Marya rises, at every step plantains, buttercups, Ivan Chai is smoothed by the warm winds. Forest edges crumble in juicy points of 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.

June 25 is the day of the solstice. From now on, the sun turns in the direction of 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 pure, collected from the 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 its course, yes, and the birds subside. The sun slowly, with unhurried steps, hangs in the sky. Only in the shadow of hiding deciduous trees there is salvation from the incandescent rays growing in strength. Summer turns into hot July.

Summer in Russian painting

Russian artists convey the picture of the summer landscape in a very colorful and varied way. Here you can see majestic green trees, and an eared field, and an unusual turquoise sky with light gentle white clouds.

(Painting by B. V. Shcherbakov "June in the Moscow region")

The description of summer nature is unusually colorful in the painting by B.V. Shcherbakov "June in the Moscow Region", which depicts the real greenery of the forest. From the front right corner into the depths of the picture, meandering along the laid channel, lies the smooth surface of the river. On both sides of it are mighty trees, it seems that these are pines mixed with hardwoods. To the right, almost by the river, a slender birch stands alone. In the foreground on the left are stacks of harvested hay. The upper part of the picture is occupied by a clear sky, on which only fluffy white clouds are visible.

Essay - description

Nature - material world Universe, in essence - the main object of study of science. In everyday life, the word "nature" is often used in the meaning of the natural habitat (everything that is not created by man).
A corner of nature can be found everywhere: on the street, at home, at school, at work in the form of simple flower pots or flowers in a vase that people give to please those who they present them to. But I have a difficult, but let’s say, not the worst task - to describe something so beautiful, charmingly fragile, perfect in its beauty, creative, so that the description of “this” would not bore those reading my essay and, of course, evaluated positively. At the very beginning of my reflections, I thought to describe the nature of my beloved city of Almaty. Trees that give the city a lively blooming look in summer, despite the clutter and a large number of cars that spoil the air. In autumn, the leaves are painted in different tones of yellow, red, green, but in winter this color fades and snow appears on the branches, which shelters them from the cold and wet wind. In the spring, we feel the pleasant smell of blooming lilacs, apples, apricots, which subsequently take on appetizing forms and we want to pick, but we are afraid that a neighbor of retirement age will come out and drive her away, with the experience of a soldier driving the enemy from the battlefield behind her, and such a desired piece of free happiness turns into "quickly hide and rip off."
And yet my thoughts have come to such an urgent solution to the problem, which I hope no one has thought of before me! (At this point, you need to giggle, rubbing your palms together, over the genius and greatness of my imagination) I decided to describe a flower that grows on high limestone mountains and about which legends were made by those who knew how to do it. This flower for me is the most incomprehensible combination of tenderness, vulnerability, beauty, intertwined with a thirst for life, stamina and determination. I think everyone knows the legend of Edelweiss, scientists call it Leontopodium, which means lion's paw. It has become a symbol of inaccessibility and good luck. Imagine a steep limestone mountain, and somewhere in the depths of the rocks this fragile flower, only 15-25 cm long, is hiding. Its petals seem to be covered with frost, which surround the inflorescence in the form of a star. The size is not at all large, it seemed unremarkable, but there are so many secrets and mysteries in it that fascinates and makes one marvel at such perfect beauty. A soothing beautiful sight, as rare as it is unusual, and found in special places where harmony reigns.

How to describe nature, like the classics?

Textbooks, monographs, articles have been written on this topic, which provide examples, talk in detail about language tools, techniques, ways of depicting nature in literature, but the authors continue to ask the question. Why? Because in practice it is not so easy to understand, but HOW does it all work?

In my opinion, a “step-by-step” comparison, which I will resort to in my article, can help.

I must say right away that writers, like artists, can be portrait painters, battle painters, landscape painters, from landscape painters - marine painters, etc. Conditionally, of course.

Perhaps you are good at battle scenes, then you should not get hung up on landscape descriptions, it is quite possible to get by with accurate and understandable characteristics: “the sky darkened”, “it started to rain”, “sunny morning” and so on. With a few strokes indicate the time of year, time of day, place of action, weather and watch them change as the story progresses. As a rule, this is enough for the reader to understand what, where and under what circumstances is happening.

If you want the landscape to be not just a background, but a “talking” background, a special character of the work (perhaps the main one), which can play a special role and take special place in the plot, then, of course, you need to learn from the classics.

I want to offer you a study game, you will understand the principle and then you can do a step-by-step comparison yourself.

So, we have three small excerpts from the stories of famous landscape writers - Turgenev, Prishvin, Paustovsky.

The passages have three important things in common:

1. The story is told from the 1st person.

2. The same theme: the autumn morning begins.

3. All or some attributes of autumn: a feature of light, sky, leaf fall, breeze, birds.

Let's just read them carefully. As you read, you can note something special, in your opinion, for each author.

№ 1

I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, about half of September. From the very morning a fine rain fell, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was erratic. The sky was now all clouded over with loose white clouds, then it suddenly cleared in places for an instant, and then behind the parted clouds a azure appeared, clear and tender, like a beautiful eye. I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled a little over my head; one could tell from their noise what season it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing thrill of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long talk of summer, not the timid and cold babble of late autumn, but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A light wind blew a little over the tops. The inside of the grove, damp from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun shone or was covered by a cloud; she then lit up all over, as if all of a sudden everything in her smiled: the thin trunks of not too frequent birches suddenly took on a delicate reflection of white silk, the small leaves lying on the ground suddenly became full of color and lit up with pure gold, and the beautiful stems of tall curly ferns, already painted in their autumn color , similar to the color of overripe grapes, they shone through, endlessly confused and intersecting before my eyes; then all of a sudden everything turned a little blue again: bright colors instantly extinguished, the birches stood all white, without shine, white, like freshly fallen snow, which the coldly playing beam had not yet touched winter sun; and furtively, slyly, the tiniest rain began to sow and whisper through the forest. The foliage on the birch trees was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; only in some places stood alone, young, all red or all gold, and one had to see how she flashed brightly in the sun when its rays suddenly made their way, sliding and variegated, through a frequent network of thin branches that had just been washed away by the sparkling rain. Not a single bird was heard: everyone took shelter and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of the tit tinkle like a steel bell.

№ 2

Leaf after leaf falls from the linden onto the roof, which leaf flies like a parachute, which moth, which cog. Meanwhile, little by little, the day opens its eyes, and the wind lifts all the leaves from the roof, and they fly to the river somewhere along with migratory birds. Here you stand on the shore, alone, put your hand to your heart and fly somewhere with your soul, along with the birds and leaves. And so it is sad, and so good, and you whisper softly: - Fly, fly!

It takes so long for the day to wake up that by the time the sun comes out, we've already had dinner. We rejoice at a good warm day, but we are no longer waiting for the flying cobweb of Indian summer: everyone has scattered, and the cranes are about to fly, and there the geese, rooks - and everything will end.

№ 3

I woke up on a gray morning. The room was filled with a steady yellow light, as if from a kerosene lamp. The light came from below, from the window, and illuminated the log ceiling most brightly.

The strange light, dim and motionless, was unlike the sun. It was the shining autumn leaves. During the windy and long night, the garden shed dry leaves, they lay in noisy piles on the ground and spread a dull glow. From this radiance, the faces of people seemed tanned, and the pages of the books on the table seemed to be covered with a layer of wax.

This is how autumn began. For me, it came right away this morning. Until then, I hardly noticed it: there was still no smell of rotten leaves in the garden, the water in the lakes did not turn green, and the burning hoarfrost did not yet lie in the morning on the plank roof.

Autumn has come suddenly. This is how a feeling of happiness comes from the most inconspicuous things - from a distant steamboat whistle on the Oka River or from a random smile.

Autumn came by surprise and took possession of the land - gardens and rivers, forests and air, fields and birds. Everything immediately became autumnal.

Every morning in the garden, as on an island, they gathered migratory birds. Whistling, screeching and croaking, there was a commotion in the branches. Only during the day it was quiet in the garden: restless birds flew south.

The leaf fall has begun. Leaves fell day and night. They then flew obliquely in the wind, then lay down vertically in the damp grass. The forests were drizzling with a rain of falling leaves. This rain has been going on for weeks. Only towards the end of September the copses were exposed, and through the thicket of trees the blue distance of the compressed fields became visible.

Surely you have noticed interesting comparisons, vivid epithets, something else ...

Note that although the descriptions are in 1st person, the narrators are fulfilling their task. Compare:

it good reception, not only to understand - from what person you need to write - but also to set the author's task for the narrator in order to convey the idea.

For some reason, many people believe that there is no special idea in the description of nature, except for the transfer of nature itself, but our example shows that it does not just exist, but should be, which distinguishes one text from another.

Epithets, comparisons, etc. are a must. It is widely believed that the autumn landscape, its colors should be conveyed by "color" epithets, imitating Pushkin's "forests dressed in crimson and gold."

But what about the classics? And they have this:

How so? In Paustovsky, colors do not play a special role at all, although the color is included in the title. Prishvin does not have them at all. Even in Turgenev, where the hero is a contemplative and must convey all the beauty, only ten times the color is mentioned, and out of ten - four times white, two times the color conveys the action, one is expressed by a noun, two are very conditional and only "red" does not cause any doubt.

At the same time, the reader clearly feels and "sees" all the colors of autumn.

Each classic has its own reception.

Turgenev loves "cross-cutting" indirect and direct comparisons:

● "...because of the parted clouds, azure appeared, clear and gentle, like a beautiful eye."

● "... thin trunks of not too frequent birches suddenly took on a gentle reflection of white silk ..."

● "...beautiful stems of high curly ferns, already painted in their autumn color, similar to the color of overripe grapes, could be seen through, endlessly confused and intersecting before my eyes..."

In Paustovsky, direct comparisons often bring the object closer to the subject, that is, the attribute of autumn to the attributes of human life:

● "The room was filled with a steady yellow light, as if from a kerosene lamp."

● "From this radiance, people's faces seemed tanned, and the pages of books on the table seemed to be covered with a layer of wax."

However, for Paustovsky it is more important to show the suddenness of what is happening, the unexpected happiness of the autumn space, as a new horizon for a person.

Prishvin, on the other hand, chooses a certain “center”, “core”, around which the picture of the autumn morning is formed. In this passage, it is "flight". Words with the same root sound nine times, not being a tautology at all, but drawing, creating a pattern of autumn fast time.

Let's look at other, familiar to everyone, autumn attributes of the classics. You will see that the above techniques are repeated here.

The classics see the same thing that all people see in autumn, they always take this general (even standard), but convey it in their own way.

You can, of course, not use the general, but then be prepared for the fact that not all readers will perceive your autumn, if they recognize it at all.

However, if everything was limited only to this, we would not recognize the author by style.

Style is made by special features (there may be several), which are repeated from story to story, loved by the authors, filled with a special meaning - this is already a talent.

In Paustovsky, these are constructions with “not”, you yourself can calculate how many particles and prefixes “not” in the text: “The strange light - dim and motionless - was unlike the sun.”

Another oxymoron: "burning frost."

And, of course, contrasts: leaf fall / rain, the arrival of autumn / unexpected happiness, etc.

For Prishvin, this is an internal dialogue, a fusion of nature and man: “... put your hand to your heart and fly somewhere with your soul, along with birds and leaves.”

“Speaking” details, personifications: “flying cobweb of summer”, “day opens eyes”, leaf “flies like a parachute” ...

Turgenev has a “matryoshka” technique, when images are layered and create a picture:

1) The foliage is still green... → 2) it has turned pale somewhere... → 3) one of them is an autumn tree... → 4) it flares up from the beam... etc.

Even Turgenev often uses the “shifter” technique unpredictably, but accurately.

Here it is expressed by comparison: “... the birch trees were all white, without shine, white, like freshly fallen snow, to which the coldly playing ray of the winter sun had not yet touched ...”

And here, with an aptly found word: “The foliage on the birches was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; just stood alone somewhere young, all red or all gold, and it was necessary to see how it flashed brightly in the sun ... ”, - many would say this about a spring birch, and here about an autumn one - young, radiant.

So let's sum it up:

1. If you need nature only as a background, mark the time of year, time of day, place of action, weather conditions with a few strokes and follow their changes as the story progresses.

2. It is important not only to understand from what person nature should be written, but also to set the author's task for the narrator in order to convey only his own idea.

3. It is important to know the attributes, a general idea of ​​autumn, but to convey them using observation methods, associations, language tools, filling the images with their vision, meaning.

4. The choice of the “center”, “core”, around which the picture of nature unfolds, helps.

5. Nothing human is alien to anything and no one - the landscape too. Do not be afraid of man in the description of nature.

6. Look for your chips, do not forget about them, immediately write down the words, phrases that suddenly came to mind when you were walking in the forest.

7. Read, without it - in any way!

Of course, there are a great many techniques and ways to convey nature in a work. We have considered only three passages. The ability to see a beautiful comparison, epithet, personification in a book, appreciate it, admire it is good, but not enough. It is also important to learn how to compare, explore and, on this basis, look for your own. Good luck.

© Almond 2015

Popov N.V. The joy of a teacher. Phenological observations // Donskoy Vremennik. Year 2011. pp. 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 the fine spring days came, I impatiently walked along the still viscous road to the country grove.

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

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

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

Yet more descriptions March see the tag#March

Description of spring - April

In the first half of April, dogwood is one of the first among the trees to bloom. All strewn 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 flashing garden, know that this is a dogwood blossom. Much more modest is the outfit of birch bark and elm that bloom a little later. Their thin branches with tufts of reddish anthers attract little attention of passers-by. And only hundreds of bees circling around the branches signal the height of flowering. The ash-leaved maple will soon bloom. Scattering branches and twigs far to the sides, he densely hung on them a green fringe of long pre-long stamens with brown anthers. Unsightly and this outfit, but the bees and cling to him. And not every beauty of gardens attracts as many winged admirers as an old maple tree. You walk past a buzzing tree and rejoice - spring!

For more descriptions of April, see the tag#April

Description of spring - May

May has come. And the calm watercolor colors 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, grass seem to stray from the age-old rhythm of the spring carnival and begin to dress randomly and hastily in expensive holiday clothes.

Golden currants are still burning furiously on the boulevards, the incessant rumble of bees is still standing over the jubilant cherries, and the fragrant bird cherry buds are just beginning to open, as a white flame on impatient pears shoots high into the sky. The fire immediately spread to the neighboring apple trees and they instantly flared up with a pale pink glow.

The hot dry wind blown the fire of spring even more strongly and it was as if a shower of flowers poured down on the ground. The horse chestnut, roughly pushing aside the beautiful lilac, arrogantly stepped forward with festive torches blazing brightly among the dark foliage. Stunned by unheard-of impudence, the lilac managed only two days later to restore its shattered prestige, throwing thousands of luxurious white, cream, purple, purple bouquets to the envy of its neighbors.

For more descriptions of May, see the tag#May

Description of summer - June

At the beginning of June, the so-called “early summer” begins - the most intense, but also the most joyful, like a noisy holiday, time of the year, when concern for the growing offspring dominates 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, screeching and squeaking in every way. The air rings from loud and quiet, joyful and dreary, melodic and harsh sounds. Birds sing standing, sitting and flying, during rest and during the hottest time of their working day. The bird world is seized with such joyful excitement that the songs themselves break free.

There is a swallow from early morning until late evening tirelessly cuts through 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. Yes, what to say! It is enough to listen at this time on the expanse of the wall to the sonorous trills of larks full of happiness in order to feel the enthusiastic thrill of the steppe that engulfed 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 insects chirping and buzzing.

And at night, from dawn to dusk, passionate serenades of nightingales rumble in the groves and, like an ugly echo, hundreds of frogs on the river respond to them. Having settled down in rows along the water's edge, they jealously try to shout down each other.

But this feast of nature would not have been a feast if plants had not taken the most ardent part in it. They made every effort to decorate the land as beautifully as possible. Thousands fled across the fields and meadows and turned into emerald carpets with intricate patterns from bright rims of all colors of the palette.

The air is filled with the aroma of wall herbs. high in blue sky snow-white ships-clouds float. The steppe feasts.

See even more descriptions of June by tag#June

Description of summer - July, August

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

But at the scorched steppe there are still preserved in some places the corners, full of unusual beauty. Over there, on a cliff, descending in steps to the river valley, some mysterious spots are whitening. But it's hard to guess what it is. Closer, closer, and a wonderful pale pink clearing opens up in front of you, completely overgrown with low bushes of yurei (head-headed). Widely stretched on the ledge of the slope, it smoothly falls to the valley. The incessant buzz of bees stands over thousands of pale pink bushes.

The glade is not large, but it stands out so strikingly and beautifully against the background of faded 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 luxurious mountain meadow.

For more summer descriptions, see the tag#Summer

Description of autumn - October

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

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

Shrubs give a lot of color to autumn landscapes. Different in appearance, autumn color and brightness, they fill the undergrowth and forest edges in a motley crowd. Delicate blush of currants and scarlet lashes wild grapes, orange-red hawthorn and crimson svidina, flaming skumpia and blood-red barberry, skillfully woven into 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 countless elusive golden-greenish halftones, radiating streams of calm light. Gilded openwork leaves are sharply minted on the dark bark of the trunk and branches, then, hanging in the still air, they seem translucent, somehow fiery and fabulous.

The high svidina, all engulfed by the 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 short cotoneaster has skillfully decorated its leaves with pink, red and orange tones and halftones and scattered them in intricate patterns on thin branches.

This forest picture in kind is so good that, admiring it, you feel in your soul a 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 subtle beauty penetrating all of nature, that not visiting a forest or a grove at this time means losing something very valuable and dear.

For more descriptions of autumn, see the tag#Autumn

Beautiful, fabulous description of nature in winter

No time of the year can compare in beauty and splendor with snow-white elegant winter: neither bright, cheerful, jubilant spring, nor summer, unhurried and dusty, nor enchanting autumn in farewell attire.

Snow fell, and such a fabulously wonderful world suddenly appeared outside the window, so much captivating beauty, poetry opened up in the closely looked street boulevards, squares and parks that it was impossible to sit in the 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 trees and shrubs that came to life again, and all the transformed nature.

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

In winter, elegant attire, one cannot recognize either a decrepit gnarled apricot, or a rickety dilapidated fence, or an ugly heap of garbage. In the place of a faceless lilac bush, such a wonderful creation of the mistress of winter suddenly appeared that you involuntarily slow down your steps in admiration for it. And really, you can’t immediately tell when the lilac is more charming - in May or now, in winter. Even yesterday, the boulevards, drearily wet in the rain, today, at the whim of winter, have become a festive decoration.

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

Billions of needles of hoarfrost turned modest squares into fabulous radiant halls that suddenly appeared at the crossroads of streets. In the hitherto gloomy blackened bare forests, the 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 Fairytale Snow Maiden.

The days of February are running. And now it's March again. And again, seasonal pictures of nature that we have seen dozens of times before pass before our eyes. Boring? But nature does not stamp its creations according to the eternal pattern. One spring is never a copy of another, just like the rest of the seasons. This is the beauty of nature and the secret of its enchanting power.

The charm of pictures of nature is similar to 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 creative imagination without which man is a soulless machine.

For more descriptions of winter, see the tag#Winter

Nature Conservation and School Local History

It remains to say a little about the protection of nature. Faithful guardian of nature - disinterested love for her. Schoolchildren's care for the school garden, floriculture, experimental work at school sites, at young naturalist stations - all this is not enough to instill in schoolchildren a loving, caring attitude towards nature, their native steppe, and the forest. In all such pursuits, there is a certain mercenary beginning. A schoolboy takes care of “his” tree with love and immediately breaks “someone else's”. The schoolgirl admires the richness of forms and colors in the gladioli and peonies she breeds and does not notice the wonderful clearings in nature.

In the fight to save native nature school local history can be one of the most effective measures. A teacher who has become close to nature has a disinterested, caring attitude towards it, unfeigned, without a shadow of any sentimentality, a manifestation of joyful emotions caused by the colors of many-sided nature, native landscapes, will involuntarily slip and be transmitted to schoolchildren on excursions, hikes and other similar cases. This will strengthen the ranks of faithful defenders of nature.

Finishing my story, I will note that I am not yet a decrepit, dissatisfied grumbler with everything. To the best of my ability, I continue to conduct phenological observations, I do not interrupt my scientific connection with the Phenocenter (Leningrad), I try to follow methodical literature, I give feedback on the work sent occasionally, I write. In a word, I have not yet climbed onto a warm stove.

school phenology

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

In 1918, in connection with the collection of a herbarium, I began to conduct fragmentary phenological observations on plants and some animals. Having obtained some literature on phenology, I ordered my observations and continued them with some success.

In the spring of 1922, students of grades 5-6 of the railway school were involved in phenological observations by me. I made simple devices - a tenemeter and a goniometer, with the help of which the schoolchildren observed the apparent movement of the sun. A year later, our first wall charts appeared with a colorful image of the 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, exciting job. Phenological observations often posed questions for me, for the solution of which it was necessary to look sharply and thoughtfully at the phenomena of nature, to rummage through books, and then small secrets of nature were revealed.

Nothing escaped the keen 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 appeared in the classroom with the April pheno-observations. What only was not shown on it! Under the graph of the course of the sun and the weather, drawn by me, in the order of the onset of phenomena, the following were depicted: the beginning of a molt in a cow, a horse, a dog, a 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 made by students and pasted on old, scribbled paper, which we had obtained with difficulty from the office of the railway station. The table was far from shining in appearance, but in terms of content it was interesting and useful in terms of teaching. We were proud of her.

Soon, having established contact with the research institute of the Central Bureau of Local Lore (TsBK), I began to send him summaries of my phenomenal observations. The realization that your observations are used in the research work of the CBC and that you thereby participate in them stimulated these studies.

The CBC, for its part, supported my undertakings at school, supplying current literature on phenology.

When the first All-Russian Conference of Phenologists was convened in Moscow in 1937, the TsBK invited me. The meeting was very small, and I was the only representative of the schools.

Starting with ingenuous observations of the course of seasonal natural phenomena, I began to gradually turn from a simple observer into an inquisitive local historian-phenologist. At one time, while working at the Novocherkassk Museum, on behalf of the museum, I sent out phenological questionnaires throughout the Azov-Chernomorsky Territory, repeatedly spoke at regional and city conferences of teachers with reports on the formulation and significance of school phenological observations 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 teacher at the age of ten, in order to organize phenological observations, I began to explore local opportunities for these classes. According to students and local residents, in the vicinity of the village in some places the remnants of virgin steppes still untouched by the plow have been preserved, and the beams are overgrown with shrubs, trees and herbs.

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

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

In early spring, the school hung in a conspicuous place a large wall chart depicting a still bare “phenological tree”, on which seasonal phenomena were noted during the course of spring. A small board with three shelves was placed next to the table, on which there were bottles of water to display living plants.

And now, on the table, images of the first heralds of spring appeared: starlings, wild ducks, geese, and a few days later, to my amazement, bustards (?!). 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 live flowering plants with labels filled all the shelves. The table and the plants on display attracted everyone's attention. During the spring in front of students and teachers 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, service. The other consisted in the personal experiences of the teacher-phenologist. It is impossible to forget the aesthetic pleasure that I experienced at the sight of the lovely woods, in a great number of doves 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 many such joyful encounters.

I described my experience at the Meshkovskaya school in the journal Natural History at School (1956, No. 2). In the same year, the drawing of my Meshkovsky "phenological tree" was placed in the Bolshoi Soviet Encyclopedia(T. 44. S. 602).

Phenology

(Pensioner)

After I retired, I devoted myself entirely to phenology. Based on his long-term (1934-1950) observations, he compiled a calendar of nature in Novocherkassk (The calendar of nature presents a list of seasonal natural phenomena located in chronological order with an indication of the average long-term dates of their occurrence in this paragraph. N.P.) and its environs.

I subjected my phenomaterials to mathematical processing in order to find out their practical suitability in the local economy. I tried to find signaling devices among flowering plants best timing carrying out various agricultural activities. It was research and painstaking work. Armed with Pomorsky's "Variational Statistics" manual, I sat down to tedious calculations. Since the results of the analyzes turned out to be encouraging in general, I tried not only to find agricultural signaling devices among flowering plants, but also to predict the time of their flowering, which significantly increased the practical significance of the proposed method. Hundreds of analyzes I have done have confirmed the correctness theoretical conclusions. It remains to put the theory into practice. But this was the work of the collective farm agronomists.

Throughout my long work on the issues of agricultural phenolic alarms, I kept a business relationship with the phenosector Geographic Society(Leningrad). On this topic, I have repeatedly made presentations at meetings of pest control specialists. Agriculture in Rostov, at the All-Union Congress of Phenologists in Leningrad (1957). My article "Phenosignalizers in Plant Protection" was published in the journal Plant Protection (Moscow, 1960). Rostizdat in 1961 published my small work "Signals of Nature".

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

This ebullient period of my phenological activity always evokes gratifying 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 became so accustomed to nature that I felt among plants, as among close ones. friends.

You used to walk along the blooming June steppe and joyfully greet old friends in your soul. You will bend over to the indigenous inhabitant of the former steppe freedom - field 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. It was always unusually joyful to meet after a long winter with spring primroses - golden goose onions, delicate bouquets of tiny (1-2 cm high!) Semolina and other pets of early spring.

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

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

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

Over the long years of studying phenology, I have developed the habit and skills to look closely at the beauty of the surrounding nature, whether it be a wide open landscape or a modest violet lurking under a bush. This habit also affects the conditions of the city. I cannot pass by the mirrored puddles scattered on the panel by a swooping summer cloud, so as not to look for a moment into the bottomless wonderful blue of the overturned sky. In April, I cannot help admiring in passing the golden caps of dandelions that flared up under the doorway that sheltered them.

When my failing health did not allow me to roam the steppe to my heart's content, I moved closer to my desk.

Beginning in 1934, brief summaries of my phenological observations were published in the Novocherkassk newspaper Znamya Kommuny. In the early years, these were dry information messages. Then I began to give them a descriptive character, and from the end of the fifties - a narrative one with some pretense of artistry.

It used to be a joy to wander the steppe in search of plants unknown to you, to create new devices and tables, to work on the burning issues of pheno-signaling. This developed creative thought and ennobled life. And now my creative fantasy, which had been hushed up due to old age, again found its use in literary work.

And the joyful torments of creativity began. In order to sketch a sketch of the life of nature for a newspaper or magazine, I often sat for hours at my desk. Notes were regularly published in the Novocherkassk and Rostov newspapers. The realization that my notes open the eyes of the inhabitants to the beauty in the familiar surrounding nature and thereby call them to its protection, gave significance to these studies. Based on their materials, I wrote two small books: Notes of a Phenologist (1958) and Steppe Etudes (1966), published by Rostizdat.