Rus Articles Journal

Who where, and we - to the village!

Are in the village a special charm. To arrive to the grandmother with the grandfather - dream of any grandson, and our two-year-old Grishenka not an exception. Grigory adores the village: a scope and will, aroma is fresher than a grass, the calf of the neighbor attached nearby, - all this made indelible impression on our kid. Every morning the sonny began equally: Grigory checked the possession. Looked in a shed, being convinced that with pigs everything is all right. Then in line there were hens, gathering fresh eggs, and only then economic Grigory was able to afford to walk on a dewy grass barefoot. With anything incomparable pleasure! Who tried, that knows!

Especially memorable. More precisely, in the cart which was stately carried for herself by a horse. As we found out from our neighbor - the pensioner, called her Matilda. It is necessary to notice that in this village at cows and horses very exotic names. Having seen enough the Mexican and other TV series, villagers expressed the love to the main characters quite so, calling the pets in their honor. So, for example, at the neigbour opposite to a puppy called Hassan, and it is not a limit of the rural imagination. And so, the vehicle was filled with a fragrant grass. Comfortably having taken seat in it all family, we screamed: “But!“ And Matilda rushed, drenching us with a breeze and the natural smell. “Here it, happiness!“ - I thought, laughing and blinking from pleasure.

In the village everything for Grishenki was for the first time: the father chops firewood, then the grandfather Tolya will kindle the furnace in a bath, and from a pipe - about a miracle! - will tumble down a dense smoke. “Smoke!“ - with delight Grisha shouted at all street, surprising with rural children much. For them a smoke - a usual thing, however, as well as a species of a live cow and horse. Having arrived to the village, we were influenced by all delights of zootherapy. Grishanya ironed in the district of all kind dogs and neighbour`s cats, snuggled a little rabbit and the same little ducklings and chickens, gently pressing live “lumps“ to a breast. At once it was visible - the city dweller. Or rather, city child experiencing chronic emotional hunger. The village could only be rescue in our case. We returned to the city had a rest, blossoming and obviously become stronger.

Rest in the village with pair milk, fragrant wild strawberry in the wood, ripe raspberry under a window is engraved in the memory for the rest of life feeling infinite, simple and in too time of the real happiness. Eh, it is good in the village!