Astafiev Viktor Petrovich. Salafing

two leaves and a noticeable made geranka - she was found in the goat ravine and ate.

In the ground there was still the root of geranki, and, by taking strength, he again let the sprouts. There was a construction and an excavator came. He hooked Rusk Geranka along with Zhalitz and threw in the car, the car pulled the land under the Yar, to the river.

Geranita moved and in the loose land, tried to grow in a new place, and everything was shaved on her and pulled the earth on top, and she couldn't grow to grow, hurt, and her root lost his strength under the weight and began to rot inside the ground, together with chopping, trash and buried grass.

Lying cast iron hosted and put a tomato in it. The man did not throw out the cast-iron window with a tomato, although he still drank a man and raged after each pay and was looking for everything that would break and throw it away.

Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ... Osseyn Island reminded once a head - a stupid with a nape and pointed, Chubatu from his forehead. At any time of the year there was that head in the wedge of the crown - the pale winter shoulders was occasionated by the Chernolesie; In the spring of the island, the island was not sorted by a gray-swoy ootaw, taken into the ring of flickering talniks, which are not by day, and on the clock they plunged into the depths of the foamed Cheryryshnik. While the cherry was spinning, blinked on the shores of the island, in the middle of it flashed and, having shook a loose color, the coastal thick was stopped, the coastal thick, died with a sheet of talniks, alder, willow, cherry, exhausted from a fire of a lane with a larger to the fire of the currarian ...

In autumn, a soft leaf of shrubs bronze, and a broken, clean island in a flat haircut of Green Ottawa, Radiously raised a mast over a high stack of hay. And at all, the winter was covered with a fearful temekin of the earth by the plump cap of the hay, and the silver rank of the crown, was worn on the man of the island. Yellow bird spisled and spisled over winter stack. The wind with Yenisei drove it to encounter a bellum, and the scarlet flag flashed the wing of a high bird under a wide zareku in the clock of foresomy.

The hydraulic station registered the river, the water rolled back, and became Osseyn Island by the peninsula. Smered on him a clear grass, shrub shrub. On a barbed tweer and gentle shores, a plaque of green litter - blooms low-latitive water. Ceased to bloom and give birth to the cherry, charred, the spuns of its branches and trunks; No more colors do not dry - they are wrapped or spilled with the root. Only the living karosalove will still squeeze the yellow density of the summer, and Zalitsa and the spiny bouran are growing in the whole of the former island.

Previously were in the district rustic buds and arable land, but where they were - not to find. Now the wooden pier is constructed here. The shaft is filled with economic dackets on these shores, to holy on personal gardens and in greenhouses rare vegetables, flowers, berries, on Saturday and Sunday - a steamer behind the steamer, a motor ship for a motor ship, a boat behind a boat, "rocket" for the "rocket" stick to the pier And the cheerful people are distinguished.

Under the brave song, "it will still be ..." They caught a flooded bar of the earth, looking at which once again make sure that in the sense of garbage selection and uncleanness no one can compare with a higher creature - neither a bird nor a beast ... shore And the glade in glass, tin, paper, polyethylene - walks harness fires, drink, chew, beat, break, shy, and no one, no one pains in him, and it does not come to mind - after all, they came to relax from work.

Roughly the Earth, the root was covered. If what grows on it, it grows in a plot, the furtively, the cryavococococococococon is growing - dishonorrhants, selected, broken, burned ...

Laughs boy on the shore. I saw something not just funny, but fun, so laughs.

I fell, I find it: near yesterday's, Sunday fire, an integration and broken glass, a narrow tin can, and the suslik's tail sticks out of it, and curved rear legs. And it's not just that a bank with a sticker, on which the word "meat" is banging, stands on the newspaper, and not just on the newspaper, but on the turn of it, where the hat is painted in the whole strip: "In defense of nature ..."

The hat is emphasized not by the red broken pencil, not the lipstick, across the entire lane, staggering, wet red letters, composed of the word: "response".

What are you laughing, boy?!

HVO ... HVO ... Tail!

Yes, the Suslik's Suslik's tail - he resembles a rusty spikelet, from which the grain is knocked out by the wind, a pitiful, rare tail - not sewn in the barbecue. Cottage

Attachment 1

In P. Astafiev "Tailing"

(from the book "Slash")

Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ...

Oatsean island reminded once a head - a stupid with a nape and pointed, Chubatu from his forehead. At any time of the year there was that head in the wedge of the crown - the pale winter shoulders was wrapped in a blackweed; In the spring of the islands, the island is not clearly confused by a gray-swoy Otava, taken into the ring of the flickering talniks, which are not by day, and on the clock they dive into the depths of the foamed Cherryshnik. While the cushion was spinning, blinked on the shores of the island, in the middle of it flashed and, having shook off his loose snow, the coastal thick was dyed, died with a sheet of talniks, alder, willow, cherry, sneak out of the fire of a larger of a dishwasher ...

In autumn, a soft leaf of shrubs bronze, and a snone, a clean island in a smooth haircut of Green Otavea, Victaliously raised a mast over a high stack of hay. And at all, the winter was covered with a fearful temekin of the earth by the plump cap of the hay, and the silver rank of the crown, was worn on the man of the island. Yellow bird spisled and spinned over the winter stack. The wind with the Yenisei drove it to meet the bellows, and the scarlet flag flashed the wing of a high bird under the broad boost in the clock of foresomy.

The hydraulic station registered the river, the water rolled back, and became Osseyn Island by the peninsula. Smered on him a clear grass, shrubbed shrubs. On a barbed tweeter and gentle shores, the raids of the green litter - blooming low-lattern water. Ceased to bloom and give birth to the cherry, charred, the blackened its branches and trunks; No more colors do not dry - they are wrapped or spilled with the root. Only Living Karosalove Sweet still yellow dandruff surroundings of the summer, and Zalitz and Spiny Burnyan are growing along the podol of the former island.

Previously were in the district rustic buds and arable land, but where they were - not to find. Now the wooden pier is constructed here. The shaft is divided into these shores economic dulls to fuck on personal gardens and in greenhouses rare vegetable, flowers, berries. On Saturday and Sunday - a steamer behind a steamer, a motor ship behind a boat, a boat for a boat, "rocket" for the "rocket" stick to the berth and distinguish the cheerful people.

Under the brave song, "either still ..." They will be sprawling along the flooded block of the earth, looking at which once again they make sure that no one compares the selection of garbage and uncleanness with a higher creature - neither a bird nor a beast ... coast and glade in Glass, tin, paper, polyethylene - walks harness bonfires, drink, chew, beat, break, shy, and no one, no one careful, and it does not come to mind - after all, they came to rest from work.

Roughly the Earth, the root was covered. If what grows on it, it grows in the plug, the jurisdown, the curvocococococococon is growing - dishonorrhant, selected, broken, burned ...

Laughs boy on the shore. I saw something not just funny, but fun, so laughs.

I fell, I find it: Near yesterday, the Sunday fire, the medium of squabbles and broken glass, it is a narrow tin can, and the sowing tail and curved rear legs stick out. And it's not just that a bank with a sticker, on which the word "meat" is banging, stands on the newspaper, and not just on the newspaper, but on its turn, where is large, in the entire strip drawn the artist hat: "In defense of nature ..."

The hat is underlined not by the red broken pencil, not that lipstick, across the entire bands, staggering, wet red letters, composed of the word: "response".

What are you laughing, boy?!

HVO ... HVO ... Tail!

Yes, the Suslik's Suslik's tail - he resembles a rusty spikelet, from which the grain is knocked out by the wind, a pitiful, rare tail - not sewn in the barbecue. Suslik did not live with giving berries, but the crumbs on the shore came to the shore, here it was caught by funny walks and stuck in the bank, judging by the scratches on the wrapper, stuck live. And the "response" on the newspaper, I guess, I was not written with a pencil, but the bloods of animals.

Appendix 2.

Glossary

Beside (region) - Stand, label, Cub on trees.

Cynicism- shamelessness, arrogance, rough frankness; defiantly contemptuous attitude towards generally accepted norms of morality and morality.

Mancourt- According to the novel of Chingiza Aitmatov, the "Brons of the Film" ("and the longest day lasts the day"), this is captured by a person turned into a soulless slave creation, fully subordinate to the owner and not remembering anything from the previous life.

Procroble - Promrogist

Plug - cf. deaf place, wilderness; The place is empty, sky, unfulfought, aside from big roads and messages; The place is hidden behind the forest, in the ravine, etc.

Torn - It does not have a well-pronounced coastline, the shores of the shore are swallowed, a lot of reassets, the bottom of it. In the form of the lake resembles a footprint, hence the name - "Target".

Zhalitsa - nettle (dial.)

Kurosalov - People's name of some herbaceous plants with yellow flowers; Chicken blindness.

Forever- Time of day before evening.

Meet(Buryam) - meet (Buryam)

Negoty - disadvantaged, hopeless, impassive, brave, non-resistant, brave

Bronze - 1. Hold your bronze color. 2. Acquire a bronze color, shade

Meterate - circle, revenge (about snow)

Symbol - artistic image, with the greatest expressiveness defining the idea of \u200b\u200bany phenomenon

Disharmony – bedroom. Inconsistency, violation of conformity of anything with anything.

Gradation - Location of words in the order of amplifying (decreasing) values

Appendix 3.

Kurasopele field

Karoslep Field (Anagallis Arvensis L.) is part of a group of plants of a family of colorful, annual herbaceous plant. The stem is swallowing, thin, branched, four-mohed, length of 15-30 cm. Flowers in June - September. The leaves are opposite (less often - are located 3), seating, one-piece, egg-shaped, bottom with black dots. Plant poisonous!. Flowers are red, single, on elongated flowerwomen sitting in the sinuses of the leaves. Fruit - box with opening lid.

Karoslep Field grows as weed almost throughout Russia.

For therapeutic purposes, the grass is harvested in the summer, during flowering.

Anagallis Arvensis L. Contains saponins, glycoside cyclamine, flavonoids, tannins, enzyme Primverase, alkaloids, etc.

Medicinal properties of the plant "Kuralep Field".

Dissolves stones and sand in the urinary tract. It has a diuretic, anti-inflammatory and strong sedative effect.

The use of plants, recipes.

Infusion of plants: 1) 1 tsp. Herbs of Kuroslepa per 250 ml boiling water insist 2 hours in a warm place, filter. Take 50 ml 4 times a day with stones in the kidneys, urinary and bustling bubbles, with jaundice and other liver diseases, with nervous disorders, as well as when breathing; Mr. Karoslepa is 1 liter of boiling water. Apply for enema with chronic constipation. Summers from fresh juice of Kuroslepa are applied to sore eyes. http: // www. ***** / TRAVY / KUROSLEP-POLEVOX /

Karosalope Field Kaluga Bolotnaya Zhalitsa (nettle)

Appendix 4.

Algorithm lesson

"Memory that does not know peace from the destruction of nature and the destruction of man in man"

"Vastekino lake" "Horse with a pink mane" "The photo on which I do not"

memory of kindness suffering

"Tail"

Something very small funny

(tail) (laughs, poured, laughs)

Composition

I part of the antithesis II part

Motive (F. Tyutchev)

· One of the evil consequences of a cruel act is that eyewitness hearts are firm . (Ch. Bakston)

· People, look around!

Like nature is truly beautiful!

She needs care of your hands,

So that her beauty does not go. (B. Ryabinin)

· Do not ruin the bird nests,

Do not kill the ptasha small

To come back a singing thrush,

Song of the song did not have a wounded.

Let your rifle drying,

Let the blood of the snow be shedding,

From the shores let the river comes out.

Nature asks: "Stepping!"

Cruelty Future fraught,

Think about what ahead?

Do not avoid me back.

She knows how to forgive everyone

Saws to tear aspen's hand.

Do not make her suffer

She is a mother -

So be her son.

(A. Kolokolnikova)

Sad detective: novel; Salafing / Sost. A. Gremitskaya. - M.: Publishing House Eksmo, 2003. S.

Dahl Dictionary of Living Great Russian: in nineteen volumes. - M.: World of Book, 2002

Http: // ***** LIB. Info / Word / Bronzovet.

Http: /// content_ef

Modern explanatory dictionary of the Russian language / ch. ed. . - St. Petersburg: Norint, 2005. p.163

Telenkova-asponic linguistic terms: manual for teacher. - M.: Enlightenment, 1985. P. 52

Russian language

21 out of 24.

1) Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ... (2) Oatsean island reminded once a head - a stupid with a nape and pointed, Chubatu from his forehead. (3) At any time of the year there was that head in the salary of the crown - the pale winter shoulders is made up with the Blackweight; In the spring of the island's holes, the island was shuffled by a gray-swoy Otava, taken into the ring of flickering talniks, which were not by day, and on the clock were immersed in the depths of the foamed black. (4) While the cherry was spinning, blinked on the shores of the island, in the middle of it flashed and, having shook a loose color, the coastal thick was dyed, died with a sheet of talniks, alder, willow, cherry, exhausted from the fire of a lane with a shore to the fire of the currarian ...

(5) The hydrostation regulated the river, the water rolled back, and became Osseyn Island by the peninsula. Smered on him a clear grass, shrubbed shrubs. (6) On a barbed slope and gentle shores, the raids of green litter - blooming low-lact water. (7) ceased to bloom and give birth to the cherry, charred, the twisted of its branches and trunks; No more colors do not dry: they are wrapped or spilled with the root. (8) Only Living Karosalove Sweet still yellow dandruff Amount of summer, and Zalitsa and Spiny Burnyan are growing according to the whole of the former island.

(9) Previously were in the district rustic buds and arable land, but where they were - no longer find. (10) Now the wooden pier is constructed here. (11) The shaft is filled with these shores economic daches to holy on personal gardens and in greenhouses rare vegetables, flowers, berries. (12) On Saturday and Sunday - a steamer behind a steamer, a motor ship behind a motor ship, a boat for a boat, "rocket" for the "rocket" stick to the berth and distinguish the cheerful people.

(13) Under the brave song "Whether it will still ..." They will be sprawling along the flooded bar of the earth, looking at which once again they make sure that in the sense of the selection of garbage and uncleanness no one can compare with a higher creature - neither a bird or a beast. .. (14) shores and glades in glass, tin, paper, polyethylene - walks harness fires, drink, chew, beat, break, shy, and no one, no one picks up, and it does not come to mind - after all, they We came to relax from the work.

(15) Roughly the Earth, the root was covered. (16) If what grows on it, it grows in a plug-in, stealing, crumocococo is growing - dishonored, selected, broken, burned ...

(17) Fasting a boy on the shore. (18) I saw something not just funny, but fun, so laughs.

(19) I will go, I find it: near yesterday's, Sunday fire, an integration and broken glass, a narrow tin can, and the suslik's tail and curved rear paws stick out of it. (20) And it's not just that a bank with a sticker, on which the word "meat" is banging, stands on the newspaper, and not just on the newspaper, but on its turn, where the hat is painted in the entire strip by the artist: "In defense of nature. .. "

(21) The hat is underlined not by the red broken pencil, not that lipstick, across the entire bands, staggering, wet red letters, composed of the word: "Response" .- (22) What are you laughing, boy?! - (23) HVO ... HVO ... Tail! (24) Yes, the Suslik's Suslick's Tail - he resembles a rusty spikelet, from which the grain is broken by the wind, a pitiful, rare tail - do not seize now in the barbecue. (25) Suslik's cottage berries do not live, here with the hunger and the crumbs came together on the shore, here it was caught by funny walks and stuck in the bank, judging by the scratches on the wrapper, stuck live. (26) And the "response" on the newspaper, I guess I, written not to a pencil, but the blood of the little animals.
(27) Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ...
(According to V. Astafyev)

Show text entirely

What does the cruel and irresponsible attitude of man lead to nature? Has the humanity reached the feature, followed by a self-destruction or there is still a weak hope to wake the souls and the hearts of people in order to preserve our unique and unique world? Over these and other questions, we invite us to think about Viktor Astafyev in the text proposed for analysis, where the problem of barbaric attitude towards nature rises.

To attract the attention of readers to this topic, the author with sadness says that "in the sense of garbage selection and uncleanness, no one can compare with a higher creature." People resting from work, people do not even think about the consequences of their "festivities". Fasting over brutally killed Suslik The boy is striking Astafieva. The writer is convinced that the ecological and moral catastrophe of humanity is really close and in its text is trying to convey It is up to us, influence the situation.

The position of the author on the raised issue is pronounced vividly and unequivocally. Astafyev brings the reader to the conclusion that the modern person cannot, it does not have the right of barbaric to relate to nature. Much has already been destroyed by people, but we still have the opportunity to change your attitude towards the world around the world and keep the land.

It is impossible to disagree with the Word Master. Of course, the soulless and consumer attitude towards nature can only lead to one - the death of all mankind.

Many writers raised this problem in their works, and Boris Vasilyev -

Criteria

• 1 of 1 k1 Formulation of the problems of the source text
• 3 of 3 k2

And there was a high rye with a flattened spike. She blurred under the wind, noisy and carelessly rustled. But once a storm flew with a large rain and hail. Another liquid and unstable rye on the swaths pressed against the ground.
"Lost gone, disappeared!" - Men crushed. They sorrowfully swung their heads and sighed, how people sigh sigh, losing the most expensive for themselves. From antiquity reached us and more, thank God, alive in peasants pity for the dying bread, based on the foundations of human life.
After a storm, as it were, the aching of their sin, nature bestowed the earth with sunny days. Rye in spoons and lowers began to feel quickly tolery, accumulate grain and stensely smoke. And that, according to the swords, everything lay down the face and would smoothly prayed the earth, asked to let her go. And there were dips in thick and high rye, as if wounds. The day of the day all the sorrow was silent and they were backed into silent pain.
Sproved and fit the sun. Earth kept in the field, and under the felling rye she was pregnant, he warmed the stems, and they were alone to one one by one, straightened and swayed flexibly bent gray spikes.
The wind swayed rye, dried, chalked by her waves, and now the mustache was allowed by the ears, the sun was painted on them.
Wounds on the field gradually closed, even it was done, rejocent.
Whitish was rolled, as if foamed on the ridges, waves, and among them, lake, there was still a row, rising from the earth. But in a week or two, the green prophets are completely glued together and the field in a single comb, a bunch will be raised into a single ear, they will begin to make noise beyond, wide, they will ring the hardened grain and, rejoicing the bread, his life, the praise will praise his peasants, as a faithful friend. "Strong spike! Taking himself from the ground! "

Lunar Blik

At night ahead of the ship, on smooth water, the lunar glare played the stroke. He silverly, Phosphorus Green, sparkled, wriggled a snake, jumped with a thawast, flew by Shorsny Lizard.
It was believed, I was looking forward to: that's, the ship's ship livestock, the Luna, Somnet, will cut the nose plow.
The software took place, passed an hour, the other, and the defillas of the distant Moon fled everything and fled to the ship, without an effort ahead of a hard-working machine.
And there was something similar to life in this night painting, it seemed, I've -sively catch it, grab her meaning, solve and comprehend the eternal riddle of being.

Crystal ring

He came out in the morning as the coast of Rocky, and on it the ringing, thin-thin, elo-litive.
I did not immediately understand what was the matter: the river went to winter high, coastal bushes were flooded, at night hit the frost - the water "dried up", and on all twigs, shoots of talyshkov and on the flooded Osks, the ice was smelled. They hung the bells over the water, the jet moved the talniks, the ice creases were barely distinctly, and when the breeze was engaged in the breeze, the ringing of the man, sullen, stormy, all summer was displeased, the buzzing river began to sell out of the end to the end, revealing the good maternal face.
In a quiet, outgoing sound, in a lightweight glow of a desert, all the forgotten river, it seemed to be even a clear bouncy - there was all the summer, muddy, unlaskaya, flooded the bird nests, did not strover fishermen, did not give the joy of swimsuchikov, scared from the shore of children, vacationers ...
Late autumn, a little warmingly late the sun, but how many light light from him! And a slightly audible crystal ringing around, the stoves of sparkling bells over the shores - the voice of a sad premiece throughout the subwayless world.

Earrings

After Sreten's frosts, when the winter breaks in half and the sun turns on the spring, I, if I live in the village, alder branches of alder with earrings, put them in a jar with water and with surprise I observe how these black, almost charred branches, and the sun That was touched by a little, only a little, and the sun was distant yet, frosty, stronired by juice, they were fixed, stirred in themselves.
A bit of warmth, a little clean water - this is a lacquer black earrings trembled, heathed in a crimp, and the branches were chocolately slapped and sprinkled with pale candlenty tongues of swelling kidney.
One, the other kidney crack, reveals the depressed the flesh of the greenery and Zood, waiting for his term, missing in front of him a brief scale color - a sheet to be born for a long time, for the whole summer, the leaf may have to wait.
And break in the curves of the earrings, crack, like the living bird paws, are driving a brown-yellow color, similar to bran, and, measurable from the lean sacrament of the sacrament of the ignition, squeezed in exhaustion, silent, the last exhalation is dispelled by the dust of color, disembodied pollen. On the entire table, on the papers, on the inkwell, the window is lying on the window, the flower pollen is lit, and the earrings, who gave themselves to the upcoming holiday of the spring, somehow they will be emptied, curled and fall from the burnt tongue pieces.
Once on the outcome of January, I walked a narrow path, I see: Olha is across the snow, the stalls of the penene with a red rumble. Someone sank the ax, I tried the tip and smeared the tree. Maybe, I chose a stick Il Oglochal, to some economic challenge ate, looked - it is not suitable, I went further to chop. We have a lot of things - to choose the heart of the New Year tree, other quits twentyly match them.
I walked around urban, in shoes, in the woods, it was cleared to the wood, so I used a gift - I broke the twigs from the top of the firing alder, thought and three or four branches from hemp fled.
Quickly boiled branches in room warm. Used, but not all. Those that I from Living Penka loomed, "came to life, bloomed, the seed began to silence, and on branches, which from the fired stem, the earrings were cooled. Stamped stone, as if the flying soup is littered with sticks and twist, "the strength does not have enough strength, and judging by the head of hemp, and lived separately from the roots no more than a week. Exhausted, dead, one earrings finally cracked, then one more. Slowly, inhibit, each separately tried to bloom the earrings from a fired vertex, but so halfway and froze, dried in a penny, exhausted from their orphan soul a little prominent powder of pollen - a smiling of color songs on a half-word.
And in the same bank, in the same light, the motley earrings were fed on the continued branches, merging the life-giving strength with the spring rag of flowering, sawing their force of an emerging life, pulled the skin on them, exposed hot flesh on them.
My dear village, and how are you there, in new agro-houses, complexes, taken away from the roots, with a disheveled trunk? And people, Russian people, how are they? Does the seed be afraid in a new place, on iron, on a brick, on cement? And whether the joy of flowering is known, without which life itself is no longer life, but only the production of livestock, frustrals, name.

Rain

The stitch rain flew up with the wind, the dust squeezed, the tails of the chickens, dispelled them in the yard, swung and breeded the apple tree under the windows, ran furiously and without looking back.
All froze depressively and confused. Folded a rain, escaped, but did not comfort him, did not drink.
Again heat. Healing everything again with a smallest, inhibited life, and only the leaves on the apple trees were trembling, and herself, the curve, mounted, apple tree reminded the abandoned, deceived baby.

Premonition of autumn

End of August.
River Bykovka has become still light and smaller. She, as it were, a little bit of a little and slightly noise with rods, as if it was afraid to break the nascent sadness, shaken the wretchedness on the bushes hanging over her.
On the river, which day is floating the leaves, stuffed in stones in the focus, the web is floating from the Tatarn and Cyprus. It is full of here, the Tataknik, on arable land, especially on oats, Cyprus - on cutting down. At night, the winds flashed over the bull, as if electric welding cutting the Stalish Tver, whether the stars are the aprhust? Or the otlings of the Northern Routes reach the Urals? Maybe, from Antarctic, the shiny is reached by a missing skirting river? Earth in the August nights is not at all noticeable, I want to breathe along with it, sorry himself and for something, to stick to the warmth - the upcoming cold, breathe a revived space breathing.
Early began to wake up the fogs, and as commemorated, so low and still lie with uneven layers above the green otava, along the river. And the river through the fog and not washed in the sands of the floss film seems to be stal.
Early in the evening, many haymaking of grasshoppers are shifted by many haylets, they shine long, hardworking, afraid to pause, evenly rush to a copy everything that is still sediated in the fields and meadows.
And only Elini and Kolkhozniki sulfice. Today, as many years ago, they got a brightness by September, they slam the inspirations permanently, the horde of grass, the swool swool. Food from it is a nickdy, but what nor there is, and feed.
Autumn is approaching. Fall.
Birds eat all eating. The oatmeal is darkened and sit in the field and only in the evening dawn they are shaking on the bushes and clean the feathers with the beaks from the web. There are no bird songs, only the troubles, only silent concerns before the far dear. Nature swept a tomression and anxiety, for which consent follows in the fall, sad farewell with warmth, readiness for difficult wintering, so necessary to update everything in nature, white snow, which deeply and warmly will cover the top of the earth, adjusts it into a white hat - and will The end of the year is also with a white top.

Spring Island

A steamer passed by the Osinovsky threshold, and immediately Yenisei became wider, Razdolly, and the height of the shores went on decline. The more wider than the Yenisei, the shore was made, calmed down the course, the river was pressed, rolled out water without noise and bustle.
I was alone on the nose of the steamer and, happily calmed down, looked at his native river, inhaled the coolness of white, quiet night. The nose of a steamhouse from time to time so deeply fell into the water that the splashes were reaching me. I licked a drop from lips and scolded myself for the fact that I was not so long in my homeland, I fussed, worked, riff and traveled for someone else's edges. What for?
The steamer went on Yenisei, cutting like a jelly, river, a bright night and silence her.
All on the steamer slept. Only the steamer himself did not sleep, the steering did not sleep, and I did not sleep. Watching the sailor wanted to drive me off the deck, but looked at me, stood near and left.
I waited for the sun. It went to the forest from an hour ago and hung it in the tops. The fog rose above the river, spoke on the logs and disintegration, fured the coast. He was short-lived and the buggy, this summer fog, and the steamer did not interfere. But after the short Drema, the sun will push out from sharp tops of the forest, goes over blue ridges and move the fogs. They will stretch under the cut of the shady banks, will fill in the thick of the forest and there will fall a delicious on the grass and leaves, on the sands and coastal pebble.
And the night has not begun.
In the morning, at the very takeoff it, I saw an island ahead. On the island, the transship was blissing still with red fire. In the middle of the island, the rocks were sneaked, between the rocks of Kedrachi dared, the burnt seats, and the pione of the island was boiled by the tops of the forest.
The shores are bright, in a juicy greenery - it happens here in the late spring and at the beginning of the summer, when it rages everywhere, the bright colors of Siberia buynes. In the middle of summer, to hayflower, flowers are tremendous and leaves on the trees fade.
But on the island of the island of the living tape of greenery! It is just blossoming horses and a low hat. Behind them a blue strip, sprinkled with pink and fiery splashes. Flower bells, frying, curtains of tears, wild poppy. Everywhere in Siberia, they have long been blowing away and the seed dropped, and here ...
- Spring on the island! Spring!..
I ran to the feet of the steamer, I hurried. The island was removed, was removed, but I wanted to diplomat on the inadvertently met of the spring!
The island was charged by the bird jamb, treated in a sunny glare, fell on the rib and sank away.
I have long stood on the deck and I found out the same island with my eyes. There have been many islands, lonely and chain, but the spring has no longer came across. That island stayed for a long time under water, and when it was dry by his shore, - everywhere there was summer and everything was hung away, and he could not without spring - and Zaberev, bloomed a bright rainbow among the river, and nothing could hold back the celebrations of nature. She rejoiced, taped, without observing any deadlines.
Remembering the Spring Island, I think about us, people. After all, to each person late or early comes its spring. In what appearance, in what color it does not matter. The main thing is that it comes.

Marines King

Once I had a chance to visit the Northern Urals. I was sitting on a stone screened one of the springs of the top of the Quarks. Because of the Vogulsk hill, the sun was clearly visible, the sun slowly climbed, and the fence was illuminated from the east side, then the twilight clouds were twilight.
But the sun rolled out to the humpback humps, hit the clouds and dense fogs. The snow climbed on top, the clouds swept up, reluctantly slid into the gorge, and the world was divided in two. At the top there were snow, with white hares on the backs, everything is in sunshine, everything is in sparkling. And at the bottom everything is flooded, closed. It was that hour when the inappropriate black of sobes and the scaldings were enveloped by the ghostly haze and hopes were not blocked, and Maniiled to themself with this ghost mysteriousness.
Under them, the clouds were dark, the clouds were impudent, and they were blindly rushed on the river gorges, they flew into stones and dilutes and still rolled off the rice, from the Vogulskie and three stones, from those mysterious stones, where the horns go to eternal constant Deer.
Here, on the tops of the Urals, is the beginning of the life of the rivers. Here, in the swellings, there are eternal snow, wearing acute sparks by those pie spots, of which the great rivers are born, it is violently, then stepwise reaching the Caspian Sea.
Rivers are born in blissful, eternal silence. Birth does not tolerate bustle, birth needs peace. Low, stingy on heat and generous in light. The sun still pays pressed, heavy, like lead, snow shafts, and scatter in all sides. Sky streams. Even small, still scratch, they immediately converge together, they together and beslest, having fun rushing on the go, rolling down the stones and fuses. Down! Down! With laughter and ringing. And no longer stop them, not to return. Rivers - that human destinies: they have many turns, but there is no way back.
Ssylone, on which I sit, ends with the rise of sinks excised winds. Boulders around the value from the house, on the hill, too, snow, fell tight, white paws launched between them, keeps behind them. From the snow in the back she carries the stubble, in the eyes beats a dazzling non-fit sun. Under the horsepower, almost jumping out on the snapped seeds with snow piles, snowdrops grow with warm rough leafs. In the leaves of these, as in good hand, clamped on five white flowers. They bloom here almost all summer, pursuing snowing under the sun, blooming five pieces on one stem. Nowhere, I have not seen such audacious snowdrops.
And on the hatching of a small pebble, near the little, but already in the old currency packers, I see a big-pink flowers.
Below, on the slopes of the Urals, they grow broods, the roots of thirty, head to the head, leaf in the sheet. And the flowers are bright there, with yellow pupils.
How did you get here? What wind-fate brought into ruthless screeching, their heavy seeds are in the student? Maybe the bird in the beak brought? Maybe elk in a deoxide?
There are only three of them, and the stems of their thin, and the leaves are like they are out of the tin, and scraps these leaves on cuts from the journey.
And flowers?
What is the wise life! The crowns of colors are covered, and the yellow pupils do not see. Flowers stand like kids in bright hat with tied ears, and do not give cold to burn seeds. And the petals of the colors with the smarter, and the meatsels they are, fat. All the strength of this color goes to save seeds, and they will not open in full swirrel, do not be shared on a silent sun. They do not trust this sun. They suffered too much before they awakened from a chilly sleep among bare, chatted stones.
Years will be held, and splashing on the scarecrow of bright, crimson flowers. In the meantime, there are only three, courageous, recalcitrant flower here, and in them the key to future beauty.
I believe that they will survive and raise their strong seeds in the streams, and they will bring them between the stones and find them the clock, from which there is a little tangible, but the warm breath of the Earth. I believe in it, because years eighty back near the Quarks and other sugar peaks and sobs there were not a single tree. And now there are low, bony, dilapidated, but solid forests, and even on the western slope of the Quarks, around the Alpine meadows where is the islets, where alone is low, almost naked trees, but such strong, nullous, that the roots are splitting the stone, but From the trunks bounces the ax. Trees lead a permanent, severe offensive and harnessed in the fight, in the eternal hike. Other of them fall, die on the go, as in the attack, but still they go. Go ahead and forth!
The first soldiers of the taiga, bent, but unoccupied, drowning with hunger and the mandatory rocks of the rocks, taking on their chest all the north of the north for the sake of forests, which go beyond them, is a low bow from the former Russian soldier who knows how difficult it is to be first.
And after the forest, birds fly, the beasts go, there is a lively life, and together with her these bugs and pink flowers with workring roots and live seed. And all these glowing baths at the glands with pale bathing lamps, yellow buttercups are unprecedented, with a swarm, forget-me-not, and even miraculously penetrating loosal flowers here, and confident snowdrops with admiration look at the inadequate inhabitants, on three scouts, as if filled Animal, burning blood.
Let not cool the blood in thin colors!

Geranium on snow

A drunken man was drunken in the barrack. The wife tried to calm him down. He hit his wife, and she flew into the corridor. The guys even used to eat. He became a drunk man to seek what to break. But the room was already broken and charged.
Heads a man.
And then he saw Geranka on the window.
In the leaky cast-iron grew geranida. They forgot to water her, and therefore the lower leaves of the geranica soon shrewd, coincided and fall out. But she took the strength of geranica and the accepted - bloomed. One flower and she had only yes from the heels of leaves, which at night came up to the window, and as the stove flooded, they were taped.
The man covered with a pig in the glass. Dropped geranka under the window. The land from the cast iron fell into the snow. The man so calmed down and fell asleep.
All night geranka was shining under the window, still live. The next snow went, sipped it.
In the afternoon, the man was joining the plywood window and saw geranka. She shone dull under the snow. It seemed to her a peasant of blood, and he stopped working, heavily deputy near the window.
And geranka all entered and entered the snow. So she was quietly and extinguished, and the man thought that it was better, the rest under the snow geranka, and warmer, and her barrack was not fragile.
Spring soon came. Snow under the windows of the barrack was washed down with streams, and the water was picked up a gerangy skeleton with a wet black flower and took it into the orabs. The root of geranica was alive, and Granida was caught this root and began to grow again. But how two leaves came out and geranica was noticeable - she was found in the goat and ate.
In the ground there was still the root of geranki, and, by taking strength, he again let the sprouts. There was a construction and an excavator came. He hooked Rusk Geranka along with Zhalitz and threw in the car, the car pulled the land under the Yar, to the river.
Geranita moved and in the loose land, tried to grow in a new place, and everything was shaved on her and pulled the earth on top, and she couldn't grow to grow, hurt, and her root lost his strength under the weight and began to rot inside the ground, together with chopping, trash and buried grass.
Lying cast iron hosted and put a tomato in it. The man did not throw out the cast-iron window with a tomato, although he still drank a man and raged after each pay and was looking for everything that would break and throw it away.

Tail

Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ... Osseyn Island reminded once a head - a stupid with a nape and pointed, Chubatu from his forehead. At any time of the year there was that head in the wedge of the crown - the pale winter shoulders was occasionated by the Chernolesie; In the spring of the island, the island was not sorted by a gray-swoy ootaw, taken into the ring of flickering talniks, which are not by day, and on the clock they plunged into the depths of the foamed Cheryryshnik. While the cherry was spinning, blinked on the shores of the island, in the middle of it flashed and, having shook a loose color, the coastal thick was stopped, the coastal thick, died with a sheet of talniks, alder, willow, cherry, exhausted from a fire of a lane with a larger to the fire of the currarian ...
In autumn, a soft leaf of shrubs bronze, and a broken, clean island in a flat haircut of Green Ottawa, Radiously raised a mast over a high stack of hay. And at all, the winter was covered with a fearful temekin of the earth by the plump cap of the hay, and the silver rank of the crown, was worn on the man of the island. Yellow bird spisled and spisled over winter stack. The wind with Yenisei drove it to encounter a bellum, and the scarlet flag flashed the wing of a high bird under a wide zareku in the clock of foresomy.
The hydraulic station registered the river, the water rolled back, and became Osseyn Island by the peninsula. Smered on him a clear grass, shrub shrub. On a barbed tweer and gentle shores, a plaque of green litter - blooms low-latitive water. Ceased to bloom and give birth to the cherry, charred, the spuns of its branches and trunks; No more colors do not dry - they are wrapped or spilled with the root. Only the living karosalove will still squeeze the yellow density of the summer, and Zalitsa and the spiny bouran are growing in the whole of the former island.
Previously were in the district rustic buds and arable land, but where they were - not to find. Now the wooden pier is constructed here. The trees are filled with the shaft for these shores to fuck on the personal gardens and in the greenhouses rare vegetables, flowers, berries, on Saturday and Sunday - a steamer behind the steamer, a motor ship behind a boat, a boat for a boat, "rocket" for the "rocket" sticks to the pier And the cheerful people are distinguished.
Under the brave song "Whether it will still ..." They sprawl with a flooded block of earth, looking at which once again you are convinced that in the sense of garbage selection and uncleanness no one can compare with a higher creature - neither a bird nor a beast ... shores and glade in glass , faster, paper, polyethylene - walks harness bonfires, drink, chew, beat, break, shy, and no one, no one pains in him, and it does not come to mind - after all, they came to relax from work.
Roughly the Earth, the root was covered. If what grows on it, it grows in a plot, the furtively, the cryavococococococococon is growing - dishonorrhants, selected, broken, burned ...
Laughs boy on the shore. I saw something not just funny, but fun, so laughs.
I fell, I find it: near yesterday's, Sunday fire, an integration and broken glass, a narrow tin can, and the suslik's tail sticks out of it, and curved rear legs. And it's not just a bank with a sticker, on which the word "meat" bangs, stands on the newspaper, and not just on the newspaper, but on its turn, where the hat is painted in the whole strip by the artist: "In defense of nature ..."
The cap is emphasized not by the red broken pencil, not the lipstick, across the entire strip, staggering, wet red letters, composed of the word: "response".
- What are you laughing, boy?!
- HVO ... HVO ... Tail!
Yes, the Suslik's Suslik's tail - he resembles a rusty spikelet, from which the grain is knocked out by the wind, a pitiful, rare tail - not sewn in the barbecue. Suslik's summer berries do not live, so with hunger and crumbs came down on the shore, here it was caught by funny walks and stuck in the bank, judging by the scratches on the wrapper, stuck live. And the "response" on the newspaper, I guess, I was not written with a pencil, but the bloods of animals.

Bonfire near the river

Still, I met those who not only squeak, but also removes.
No, not at home met, not in Siberia. In the suburbs met.
Doche Domodedovo Airport and near the birch grove saw a gray-haired, easily dressed man with a plastic bag, in rubber gloves, and a woman dressed in athletic pants, in a male shirt, also in gloves and a bag.
They were slowly moving on the edge of the grove, about something chatting, from time to time bent and folded into a bag of paper, boxes from cigarettes and cigarettes, foil, scraps of polyethylene, cigarettes, risking pieces of bread, old clocks, Loskuchi - everything that hurts around A man.
- Did you see the battered? - For some reason, the driver-taxi driver exclaimed with anger, drove me to Moscow. I looked at him questioningly. - Academician with his baby. They have a cottage here. How go for a walk, grab bags and shovel. Which garbage will take, so burning near the river, what they will deterio, what they go. The flowers are not allowed, right behind the breasts take, and -a-di-oh-si-s. Yes, don't you, for the ribbons, do you save everything? And-and-s-di-oh-oh-si-s! ..
He sharply spinned the steering wheel. Two older people disappeared behind the turn.
... Whenever I go to Domodedovo Airport and see the smoke of the Koster above the river Pahra, with quiet joy I think: these are patient people, make a voluntary voluntary work, so necessary to tired land, - garbage burn near the river.

Oh you, night

The long mountain sits down the sun. In the sky not a single cloud. Only the Maorevo at the mountain peaks, soft, pale to the middle of the sky, Golden Golden, dresses back into the ghostly shine. Lightweight, unwild glare falls on a wide Pleso. And it mumens from its own beauty.

Development of critical thinking of students when studying stories

V.P. Astafieva from the "Slayer" cycle

Slesarenko Tamara Gennadievna, Teacher of Russian Language and Literature School №143 of the Soviet District of Krasnoyarsk

Sherstobitova Tatiana Mikhailovna, Teacher of Russian Language and Literature MBOU Lyceum №10 Oktyabrsky District of Krasnoyarsk

Modern literature is rich in various names, but the name of Viktor Petrovich Astafieva is especially expensive to residents of Siberia. Each of his work carries deep meaning, talks about the mysterious Siberian character, teaches a careful attitude towards nature. Unfortunately, the work of this writer in the school program is not studied in detail, only a few works are offered to explore. Of course, the work of the famous Siberian writer must be studied at school in the literature lessons, in the lessons of extracurricular reading. Style V.V. Astafieva is unique and unique, in his works there are many dialect words characterizing the stern life of Siberians. You need to read such works leisurely, with stops, penetrating into the heart of the text. Thoughtful reading of artistic works contributes to the technology of developing critical thinking through reading and writing.

This technology appeared in Russian education in 1997, but the authors are American scientists Ch. Temple, K. Meredith, D. Still. The technology is a system of strategies that unite the techniques of academic work on the types of training activities regardless of the specific subject matter. In this technology, you can select phases:

The first is the challenge when the task is to activate, interest the student, to motivate him for further work. At this stage, when studying works by V.P. Astafieva recommend using the reception "looks like ...", as it contributes to the development of creative abilities.

The second is the stage of understanding on which direct work is underway with the text. When working with the works of small forms, it is best to use this technique as reading with stops. It also contributes to a more meaningful reading of artistic text.

Third - reflexion, i.e. Reflection on information, its creative rethinking, interpretation.

"Tags to light."Analysis of the story"Tail" from book

"Slash" V.P. Astafieva (Grade 6)

The analyzed work does not declare students in advance, with his text they first get acquainted in the lesson. The text separated by six parts is read and analyzed gradually. The lesson can be carried out at the final stage of studying creativity V. P. Astafieva.

Purpose:create conditions for the formation of an active life position, forming a UUD through a system of analysis and modeling for the means of a specially organized creative-active environment, initiating and developing children's personal relations and actions that form a reader's taste, the ability to understand and comprehend the text; Rail around mercy, feeling of pity and respect for everything alive on earth.

Equipment:excerpts text miniatures (distributed to each desk along the course of the lesson); portrait of a writer; Photos of the corners of nature, mutilated human activities.

Hunter, fisherman, connoisseur of herbs and forests, animals

and birds, he is endowed with nature

observation

it is overflowing with love for multicolor

world.

N. N. Yanovsky

DURING THE CLASSES

I. Organizational stage, motivation.

II. Call stage. Definition of the topic, setting the purpose of the lesson.

(The teacher demonstrates the portrait of V. P. Astafieva and the collection "Slashy".)

1. Teacher's word

- Today we continue to study the works of the writer and get acquainted with the book, which is called "Slashy". Let us try to explain the meaning of the title of the collection V. P. Astafieva.

2. Reference Bureau

Comment. A pre-prepared student provides information from the "intelligent dictionary of the living Great Russian language" V.I. Dalya. He reports that the word "beside" comes from the verb "to win" - "... to cut out or do in the trees of stalks, labels, scubons." The writer himself writes about it like this: "And beware - the thing in itself the thing is the ancient and the whole of the knowledge - it is a layout made on the tree. His pioneers and deliberates were made to whitewashing on the trunk Meta to be visible from afar, and went on a tapet from Meta to Mete, often the trail was obtained here, then the road, and somewhere in the end there were wintering, borrowing, then the village and the city "

Teacher.Scores usually make for memory. For Astafieva, the stake is his memories, reflections that he wanted to convey to the reader. And this word has not only a direct meaning for the writer. Separate poems, as "stalk", indicate the road to eternal, timeless values.

What stake could leave the writer? (The teacher fixes the answers of children on the board).

Today we read one of the miniature, which is called the "tail".

What associations do you have in connection with this word? ( students call words. On the board and in notebooks make a record of some of them.)

Tail- Small, tail, animal, diminishing and caressing ...

Suppose what kind of back for our memory will make a writer by this story.

(Express different points of view.)

What will we talk about today in the lesson? (Pupils put a goal - to understand what "trees" says in the work).

III. Stage of understanding. Reading with stops.

1. Reading the first passage

(The first excerpt of the text of the disciples read about themselves, then listen to the reading of the teacher or prepared classmate.)

Laughs, poured, the boy laughs ...

What do you think about what a boy laughs? Write your assumptions in the notebook. ( Several people voiced their records.)

2. Reading the second passage

Oatsean island reminded once a head - a stupid with a nape and pointed, Chubatu from his forehead. At any time of the year there was that head in the wedge of the crown - the pale winter shoulders were shared with a blackworm; In the spring of the islands, the island is not clearly confused by a gray-swoy Otava, taken into the ring of flickering talniks, which are not by day, and on the clock they plunged into the depths of the foamed blackmushnik. While the cushion was spinning, blinked along the shores of the island, in the middle of it flashed and, having shook off her loose color, the coastal thick was dyed, died with a sheet of talniks, alder, willow, cherry, exhausted from the fire of a lane with a lane. In autumn, a small leaf of shrubs bronze, and a smoky, a clean island in a flat haircut of Green Otavea, Radiously removed the mast over a high stack of hay. And at all, the winter was covered with a fearful temekin of the earth by the plump cap of the hay, and the silver rank of the crown, was worn on the man of the island. Yellow bird spisled and spinned over the winter stack. The wind with the Yenisei drove it to meet the bellows, and the scarlet flag flashed the wing of a high bird under the broad boost in the clock of foresomy.

Where are the events described?

Inquiry Office

Aftermath- Grass, grown in the same year on the place beveled.

Willow- Small willow growing on raw places.

- What does Astafiev Island paint?

Comment. In the answers they sound the words talking about the rich vegetation of the island: Cherryumukha, Liver, Alder, Verba, Fat Grass. The writer admires the island, while describing the entire spectrum of fine-expressive means uses. During the conversation, epithets are issued, metaphors. So, these words, the writer expresses its attitude to the depicted, he admires the beauty of the island.

Is there a time instructions in the text? Is there beauty now when a boy laughs? ( No, there was some kind of island.)

- Did you feel alarm? Is there a word in the text that make us alert? (Fearless temples of land .)

- How do you understand these words?

- Suppose that we are expected in the third passage.

3. Reading the Third Overseas

The hydraulic station registered the river, the water rolled back, and became Osseyn Island by the peninsula. Smered on him a clear grass, shrubbed shrubs. On a barbed tweeter and gentle shores, the raids of the green litter - blooming low-lattern water. Ceased to bloom and give birth to the cherry, charred, the twisted of its branches and trunks; No more colors do not dry - they are wrapped or spilled with the root. Only a lively karosalove also squeaks a yellow dandruff. The middle of the summer, and Zalitz and the prickly bungyan are growing along the whole of the former island.

- What changes did you notice? (Surrounding means of image: epithets, metaphors. Proposals became shorter, verbs predominate in them. The color of the island has changed : Ring of green litter, blackened, yellow.A spoken style vocabulary appears with a pronounced negative attitude : Smeed, desole, charred.)

- How does the author belong to these changes? What caused their reason?

Comment. During the conversation, the reason is the main: hydroelectric station registered the river. Osseyn Island became the peninsula.

- And people stopped there? What do you think?

4. Reading the fourth breakdown

Previously were in the district rustic buds and arable land, but where they were - not to find. Now the wooden pier is constructed here. The shaft is filled with these shores economic dackets to holly and learn on personal gardens and in greenhouses rare vegetable, flowers, berries. On Saturday and Sunday - a steamer for a steamer, a motor ship behind a motor ship, a boat per boat, a rocket for a rocket sticks to the berth and a cheerful people are distinguished from themselves.

Under the brave song, "either still ..." They will be sprawling along the flooded bar of the earth, looking at which, once again they make sure that, in the sense of garbage collection and uncleanness, no one can compare with a higher creature - neither a bird nor a beast. Shores and glades in glass, tin, paper, polyethylene - walks harness fires, drink, chew, beat, break, shy, and no one, no one takes off, and it does not come to mind - after all, they came to relax from the work. Roughly the Earth, the root was covered. If what grows on it, it grows in the plug, the jewelry is growing, the cryption is growing - dish, scratched, broken, burned ...

- Did your assumptions coincided with what we read?

Is it bad that people go to relax, work in their gardens?

How does the writer relate to them?

Match this passage with the second. What changed?