Rus Articles Journal

The report on the spent holidays in the village of Ognevo that in Chelyabinsk region


, friends, to you a Pushkin verse
to retell the rest rural.
However, forces having truly estimated,
the size I borrowed Shakespeare,
that in Marshak or Pasternak`s translation,
it is very widespread and popular,
it is habitual to hearing, to reason it is clear.

And so: without endeavoring to see the abroad,
sea coasts and delights,
we decided to glance to the village:
There fresh air, pure nature,
beskrayn blue heaven,
raspberry, haymakings.

Having spent

evening completely for collecting,
having bought a garden shower and the heater
(to create similarity of comfort),
and having loaded all good into the car,
in which only slightly - slightly remained places,
and the music having turned on about climate - control,
we, hurrying, started on the journey.

As escaped from the city then,
the types waiting for the creator -
the one who having taken a palette in hand opened,
will imprint only half
all beauty, both color, and a charm of forms.
So, being distracted by game of shades,
and violence of paints, with music on the way,
we imperceptibly arrived to “Ognevo“.

I bathing in the lake, calfs feeding,
pair milk and fresh cottage cheese,
circulation on morning dew,
walks and trips around the village,
acquaintance to local fauna and flora,
and other cheerful affairs rushed one motley tape

our day here so usually began
Vanya wakened in the beginning,
(around around eight), and later,
then that appetite was worked up,
we went with Vanya to walk.
Then, we came to the aunt Galya,
pair milk drank in plenty there,
fed calfs with a burdock green,
which Vanya samolichno tore.
Watched pigs, having glanced in a fencing,
and later, with feeling of the made work,
home to themselves hurried, where us there,
already smoking porridge,
again, on rural milk waited.

A after a breakfast with fresh bread,
and this natural porridge,
on the lake we moved rather,
in that hour until the people have not enough,
and the gadfly angry flied yet.
So far we went on the lake, our Vanya
on equipment was all eyes:
and neither the trailer, nor a tractor, nor the moped
escaped its attention.

But we on the lake: and already
Vanya with the father knee-deep,
then on a belt, and already up to a neck comes.
And Vanya laps, squeals and splashes,
dives into water as if Ikhtiandr.
And splashing in water half an hour,
we depth on the coast,
as Chernomor`s army, with splash, with noise leave.

A later, having got out to the coast,
we sunbathed six minutes, no more,
so far the gadfly spiteful did not jam us,
and exercise of “Fumitoks“ escaping,
splashing hands, with shout “Flies - kysh“,
we directed quickly uphill,
watched a fir-tree and were enough the cone,
running across the bridge at a stream,
already we were in an hour of house.

A there on call the laptop was br>
on it we watched “Prostokvashino“,
about Barbos`s dog, and about “Mischa - I Wave“
(that means the fairy tale “Three Bears“),
and later went on the first dream.
Morpheus kept in embraces hour or two,
and later, having wakened, we bathed,
in the pool that in the yard was.

Tam was a hill water,
from which Wan cheerfully moved down
on a bottom, a paunch or on knees.
And as lips already became blue, and goosebumps went,
fresh we were wiped by a towel,
and walked - to the village, or in shop
(that was combined), watched equipment
and all animals that met us on the way.

A in the evening we went to bathe,
and stark naked catching suntan evening,
and eyes up having far turned,
we understood that such happiness.
Then we went calfs again to feed,
to drink milk pair, to eat cottage cheese.
And later the summer shower waited for us,
which was made by me samolichno.
At any time, in the morning or at night,
we could take a shower, or be washed.

Here so there passed nearly two weeks:
mother both gave to drink to us, and fed,
viands different at us happened: and fresh borsch,
both cheesecakes, and porridge. Still products were from a kitchen garden:
potato fresh, fennel, peas, raspberry.
I gathered raspberry, by the way,
candied seven liters as supplies,
and even managed to go for a mowing.

Still I threw off couple of kilograms,
and all while having bought hens,
having made marinade of mayonnaise,
having curtailed a brazier from the sheet of iron,
and bricks that were under a hand,
I zababakhat a great lot of shish kebabs,
for the birthday preparing.
We ate them not day, and two -
would see us diets - experts!

Well everything, ended my story.
Finita la comedia.
Uzhel my work is finished?
I will take leave as Nestor is the chronicler,
I will postpone a feather and I will finish the book.