How beautiful the forest is in late autumn! The soft air is filled with an autumn scent, similar to the smell of veins. A thin fog stands in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the naked

The brown branches of the trees are peacefully whitened by the motionless sky. Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. Write out from the text the words with the tested unstressed vowels at the root of the word. Write down the test words. Sort out the words autumn smell subtle turns white make a sound analysis of the word sky
HELP!!!

YOU NEED TO MAKE PROPOSALS

A SMALL, BIRCH.GROVE.ALL.Shimmers.IN THE SUN.

A THIN.FOG.STANDS. ABOVE.THIS.GROVE.AND.YELLOW FIELDS.

IN.AUTUMN.SOFT.AIR.SPILLS.FRESH.SMELL.NOT.FALLEN.LEAVES.

HOW.SO.GOOD.THE FOREST.LATE.AUTUMN

(1) How beautiful the forest is in autumn! (2) The sun sends him farewell rays. (3) Transparent air is fresh and crystal clear. (4) Yellow, orange, crimson leaves quietly fall from the trees and lie on the ground. (5) The silence of the forest is not disturbed by the singing of birds; they have already flown to distant lands.
(6) The forest is beautiful on a frosty day, when silvery frost sparkles on the tree branches. (7) Loose snow covered all the paths in the forest and wrapped them in a white blanket. (8) You won't pass!
(9) The forest is beautiful in summer too. (10) Herbs and mosses cover the ground with green carpets. (11) Forget-me-nots, filled with wonderful nectar, are barely visible from the tall grass. (12) And how cool it is in the summer heat among the dense thickets! (13) It’s good to lie down under a white-trunked birch tree and look for a long time through the branches into the transparent sky.

Quests:
1) Write out a word from the 10th sentence that has more sounds than letters.
2) Determine the number of syllables in the word FAREWELL (sentence 2)
3) Write out from sentences 3-6 a noun that corresponds to the meaning “A thin layer of ice crystals covering the surface of various objects when they are sharply cooled”
4) Find nouns of the 2nd declension in sentences 11-13. Write them (separated by commas) in the nominative case, singular.
5) Write out from sentences 7-11 an adjective in the instrumental case, singular, masculine.
6) Write out the future tense verb, 2nd person, singular from sentences 6-9.
7) Write out ALL prepositions from sentences 1-5 separated by commas.
8) Write out the main terms from sentence 7.

Help please... In this text, find and write down words with the spelling of unpronounceable consonants. Select test words.

Late autumn. A foggy haze stretches over the surrounding fields. A belated flower sadly turns yellow. Tall grass seeds were poured into the ground. The sharp wind violently shakes their bare stems. The grass is still green in the local pastures. At the edge of the forest a lovely rowan tree is blushing.

Current page: 6 (book has 6 pages in total)

G. Skrebitsky
September

There was a chill in the air. The foliage on the bushes and trees turned yellow. The forest dressed itself in multi-colored clothing. Rooks and other migratory birds have long gathered in flocks. And finally, the farewell crowing of cranes is heard in the cool autumn sky.

Summer is over - it's time for fun walks in the forest to pick berries and mushrooms. Swimming in the river is over. The carefree days of complete rest are over for the boys. Now, with new strength, you need to take up your studies, and only Sundays are left for trips to the forest or to the river.

But young naturalists should make the best use of these few days.

Autumn - September, October, November - is the most interesting time for observing nature. After all, at this time all animals are preparing for winter. Most birds fly to warm countries for the winter. Many animals insulate their nests and lairs for winter, and some carry food supplies into their “pantries” and “cellars.” The squirrel stores nuts and acorns in hollows and wood crevices, and dries mushrooms on tree branches.

Insects: butterflies, beetles, ants, as soon as it gets cold, they hide in all directions. Some hide in different crevices, others climb into earthen holes. There the insects, those that do not die in the fall, fall asleep until spring.

Frogs, snakes, lizards, and even some animals: hedgehogs, dormice, and chipmunks also go to sleep for the winter. The largest of our forest animals - the bear - also arranges a “winter bedroom” for itself and sleeps in it throughout the long winter.

Since autumn, he has been choosing a convenient place for a den in a dense forest. It will drag fallen leaves, moss, and dry grass there. Makes an excellent bed. Now he is not afraid of either frost or wind. Just lie there and lie there until the warm spring days.

Did you guys forget to keep an eye on the calendar? Remember: June 21 was the longest day and the shortest night. But from the twentieth of June the day began to wane. And on September 21, the length of day and night will be equal again. The day of the autumn equinox will come. From this date the night will lengthen, and the day will begin to decrease and decrease, and so on until the second half of December.

The dark time is coming, the time of long autumn nights and short days.

N. Sladkov
Golden autumn

All summer the leaves exposed their palms and cheeks, backs and bellies to the sun. And they became so full and saturated with the sun that by autumn they became like the sun - crimson and gold. They filled up, became heavy and flowed. There was a golden shower in the forest!

A drop will click on a leaf and the leaf will fall off. The tits are flying around on the branches - leaves are splashing on the sides. The wind will suddenly blow and a colorful tornado will spin. And if a heavy braid breaks into the branches in flight, a sparkling leafy waterfall will pour out!

The Christmas trees were decorated with colorful leaves, the mushrooms hid under the leaves, the ferns warmed up under the leaves.

The leaves rustle, scrape, babble. Leaves fly, jump, float. Leaves sway on cobwebs. Leaves above, below and around.

Golden rain is making noise.

K. Balmont
Autumn

Lingonberries are ripening,
The days have become colder.
And from the bird's cry
It only makes my heart sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea.
All the trees are shining
In a multi-colored dress.

The sun laughs less often
There is no incense in the flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon -
And he will cry sleepily.

M. Lermontov
Motherland
(Excerpt)

...I like to ride in a cart on a country road
And, with a slow gaze piercing the shadow of the night,
Meet on the sides, sighing for an overnight stay,
The trembling lights of sad villages;

I love the smoke of burnt stubble,
A convoy spending the night in the steppe
And on a hill in the middle of a yellow field
A couple of white birches.

With joy unknown to many,
I see a complete threshing floor
A hut covered with straw
A window with carved shutters...

I. Sokolov-Mikitov
Cranes fly away

On golden autumn days, the cranes gathered to fly away. Preparing for a long journey, they circled over the river, over their native swamp. Having gathered into slender shoals, they were drawn to distant warm countries. Through forests, through fields, through noisy cities, cranes flew high in the sky. In a deep forest, on the edge of a swamp, we stopped to rest.

Even before dawn, sensitive cranes woke up. An early dawn is just breaking over the river, over the black forest tops. The dense forest seems dark and gloomy at this time. One by one, the cranes rise from the swamp.

At this early hour, birds wake up in the forest, agile waders run along the shore. Soon the cheerful sun will rise over the river and forest. Then everything will shine, everything will change in the dark autumn forest.

The cranes will rise high. From the high clear sky we will hear their farewell voices.

Goodbye, goodbye, cranes! See you in the spring!

G. Skrebitsky
October

The sky is frowning. Often, fine cold rain splashes onto the ground from low clouds. The forest has long since shed its leaves; it stands all bare and silent. It’s no more fun in the fields and on the river either. Everywhere is empty, cold and dull. The water in the river seems somehow gray and thick. Low clouds are reflected in it. And when the wind rises, steep waves run one after another along the river. They hiss angrily and whip up dirty yellow foam near the shore.

Whole flocks of migratory northern ducks visit us at this time, rest and feed, and then move on their further journey to the south.

The underwater inhabitants of rivers and lakes are also preparing for winter. This is well known to every fisherman.

With the onset of cold weather, different fish behave differently. Inhabitants of stagnant waters - ponds and lakes - lazy, clumsy crucian carp and tench in the fall, as soon as it gets cold, they hide at the bottom in underwater thickets, sometimes even bury themselves in the silt and doze there. Try to catch crucian carp or tench with a fishing rod in the cold - it’s unlikely to succeed. But river fish - roach, perch, ruff - at this time greedily grab the bait. The toothy pike is also in a hurry to eat up for winter. But burbot has a particularly large appetite. All summer he dozed in a hole under snags or among stones. But autumn came, the cold and bad weather began, and then the burbot woke up from its slumber, crawled out from under the snags and began to hunt for fish, frogs and other living creatures. This glutton will eat whatever living thing he sees.

K. Ushinsky
From childhood memories

Intercession is our temple holiday. How many people were in the church, and how cheerful everyone was! There's a big harvest this year!

The last apples were picked from our garden yesterday; Only one rowan tree still has berries that are turning red and waiting for the first frost.

Green groves turned into colorful ones; the aspen trembles, all golden and purple; the wind tears off the last leaves, the wings of the mills do not stop turning, my new kite flies high, and in the entryway there are already prepared winter frames.

I. Turgenev
Forest in autumn

There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise; an autumn smell, similar to the smell of wine, is diffused in the soft air; a thin fog stands in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare, brown branches of the trees, the motionless sky peacefully whitens; Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot; the tall dry blades of grass do not move; long threads glisten on the pale grass. The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest, looking after the dog, and meanwhile your favorite images, your favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, long-dormant impressions suddenly flash through; the imagination soars and flutters like a bird, and everything moves so clearly and stands before the eyes. The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward, then it will irrevocably drown in memories. All life unfolds easily and quickly, like a scroll; A person owns all his past, all his feelings, his powers, his entire soul. And nothing around him bothers him - no sun, no wind, no noise...

And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when the birch, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than the summer one, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it is fun and easy for her to stand naked, the frost is still white at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind quietly stirs and drives fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, quietly lifting up scattered geese and ducks, in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered by willows, and, colorfully in the bright air, pigeons quickly circle above her...

G. Skrebitsky
November

According to the calendar, November is considered the last month of autumn. But in our middle zone this is often already the beginning of winter. Every day the morning frosts are getting stronger and stronger. When the kids go to school, the ice is already crunching under their feet.

The river near the banks is also frozen, only in the middle the water is still free of ice. And wide ice edges appeared on the lakes. A small pond near the village is already completely covered with ice, but you can’t walk on it - it’s still very thin.

Reservoirs, large and small, are covered with ice. And here comes the snow. More and more often, white winter flies are flying in the air, landing on the ground, on the roofs of houses and barns. They will sit and disappear again - they will melt. And again the bare deserted fields and forests frown.

Cold, uncomfortable. All living things hid from the bad weather.

Animals dress in winter coats, warm and fluffy. In such a fur coat they are not afraid of the piercing autumn wind.

Late autumn. It's a sad time of year, but it's a wonderful time for hunters. While deep snow has not yet fallen in the fields and forests, there is no need to wear a sheepskin coat, felt boots, or carry heavy skis with you. Put on a padded jacket, throw a gun over your shoulder and go wherever you want. You can travel dozens of kilometers in a day.

At this time in the forest it is very convenient to keep an eye on animals and birds. There are no more leaves on the bushes and trees, the grass has dried up, and the autumn rains have beaten it to the ground. It is not easy at this time for the four-legged and winged inhabitants of the forest to hide from the watchful eye of the hunter-tracker.

This is a good time for young naturalists to observe the life of forest inhabitants.

For those of you, guys, who have hardened yourself in the summer, who are not afraid of rain and cold, there will be a lot that can and is worth observing in the autumn fields and forests.

A. Blok
Bunny

Little bunny
On a damp hollow
Before my eyes were amused
White flowers...

We burst into tears in the fall
Thin blades of grass
The paws are coming
On yellow leaves.

Gloomy, rainy
Autumn has come
All the cabbage was removed
Nothing to steal.

Poor bunny is jumping
Near the wet pines,
It's scary to be in the clutches of a wolf
Gray to get...

Thinks about summer
flattens his ears,
Looks sideways at the sky -
Can't see the sky...

If only it were warmer
If only it were drier...
Very unpleasant
Walk on water!

S. Aksakov
Autumn

I love autumn, even the late one, but not the one that everyone loves.

I love non-frosty, red, windy days almost from morning to evening; I love warm, grey, quiet and, perhaps, rainy days.

The harshness of the irritable dry air is disgusting to me, but the soft humidity, even the dampness of the atmosphere, is pleasant to me; You can always protect yourself from rain, of course not torrential rain.

Autumn, deep autumn! The sky is gray, low, heavy, wet clouds, gardens, groves and forests become bare and transparent. Everything can be seen right through in the deepest thicket of trees, where the human eye could not penetrate in summer.

The old trees have long since fallen off, and only young individual birches still retain their withered yellowish leaves, shining with gold when touched by the slanting rays of the low autumn sun.

Evergreen spruce and pine trees, as if rejuvenated, stand out brightly through the reddish network of birch branches, refreshed by cold air, fine, steamy rains and humid night fogs.

The ground is covered with dry, varied and multi-colored leaves: soft and plump in wet weather, so that the rustle of the feet of a carefully stepping hunter cannot be heard, and hard, fragile in frosts, so that birds fly far away from the rustle of human feet.

If the air is quiet, then the careful jumps of a hare and squirrel and all sorts of forest animals can be heard at a great distance, easily distinguished by the experienced and sensitive ear of a trapper.

Tits of all genera, which do not fly away for the winter, except for the roadside tit, which has disappeared for a long time, have moved towards human habitation, especially the Muscovy tit, called the Novgorod tit in St. Petersburg, and the imp in the Orenburg province.

Its ringing, piercing whistle can often be heard in the house through the closed windows. Bullfinches also got out of the forest thicket and appeared in gardens and vegetable gardens, and their creaky singing, not devoid of some pleasant melody, is quietly heard in the bare bushes and trees.

Blackbirds that have not yet flown away, clinking glasses and squealing, having gathered in large flocks, fly into gardens and urems 49
Urema – forest and bushes near the river, flooded with water.

Where elderberries, honeysuckle and even redder clusters of rowan and viburnum attract them. The bird cherry berries they love have long since dried up and fallen off, but they will not be in vain: they will all be picked up from the ground by greedy guests. Here a flock of blackbirds flies noisily - and straight into the park. Some will sit in the trees, while others will descend to the ground and jump in all directions.

First, they will quiet down for two hours, quietly satisfying their hunger, and then, having satiated themselves, filling their crops, they will gather in a heap, sit on several trees and begin to sing, because these are song thrushes.

Not everyone sings well, but probably the old ones; others just squeal; but the general chorus is very pleasant; It will amaze and delight the one who hears it for the first time, because the voices of birds have long since fallen silent and in such late autumn you will not hear the former varied singing, but only the cries of birds, and then mostly woodpeckers, bullfinches and demons.

The river took on a special appearance, as if it had changed, straightened out in its bends, became much wider, because the water was visible through the bare branches of bent alder branches and the leafless twigs of the shore bushes, and even more so because the water color had disappeared from the cold and that the shore water grasses , beaten by frost, withered and sank to the bottom.

In rivers, lakes and ponds with clay and especially sandy bottoms, the water brightened and became transparent like glass; but dammed rivers and streams that flow slowly get a bluish-green color, however, this is an optical illusion; the water in them is completely clear, but the bottom is covered with settled debris 50
Shmara is mud on the water.

With fine green moss or short water silk - and the water gets a greenish color from its lining, just like crystal or glass, lined with green foil, appears green.

This is the kind of autumn I love not only as a hunter, but as a passionate lover of nature in all its various changes.

A. Chekhov
Belated flowers
(Excerpt)

...The day is clear, transparent, slightly frosty, one of those autumn days on which you willingly put up with the cold, the dampness, and the heavy galoshes. The air is so transparent that the beak of a jackdaw sitting on the highest bell tower is visible; it is completely saturated with the smell of autumn. You will go out into the street, and your cheeks will be covered with a healthy, wide blush, reminiscent of a good Crimean apple. Long-fallen yellow leaves, patiently waiting for the first snow and trampled underfoot, turn golden in the sun, emitting rays like chervonets. Nature falls asleep quietly, peacefully. No wind, no sound. She, motionless and dumb, as if tired from spring and summer, basks under the warming, caressing rays of the sun, and, looking at this beginning peace, you yourself want to calm down...

A. Pushkin
* * *

The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.

G. Snegirev
How birds and animals prepare for winter

The she-bear dug a den under the roots of an old spruce tree, covered it with branches, and gathered moss. In winter, bear cubs will appear in her den.

Autumn in the forest. No bird songs can be heard. Fieldfare thrushes have gathered in flocks and are fattening up before migrating to warmer climes.

Crake set off on his journey before everyone else, because he either flies to the south or walks.

The jay buries acorns for reserve. He chooses the ripest ones, but often forgets about them, and in the spring young oak trees grow from these acorns.

While the ground is not frozen yet, woodcocks feed in the swamp. The woodcock puts its beak into the ground and pulls out worms and larvae.

A capercaillie swallows pebbles on a river shallow. In winter, it pecks at needles and frozen cranberries, and the pebbles, like millstones, grind food in the capercaillie crop.

The badgers have eaten too much over the summer, accumulated fat, and do not move far from the hole.

The squirrel will soon turn gray and put on a winter coat, but for now it is storing nuts and acorns. Puts them in a hollow. And he hangs the mushrooms on thorny branches to dry.

The hedgehog found a hole in a rotten stump, dragged leaves into it - and now its housing for the winter is ready.

A fox silently sneaks through the autumn forest. The leaves in the forest are red, and the fox fur is red. It is easy for a fox to sneak up on its prey unnoticed.

The deciduous bunnies were hiding. They don't jump, they don't leave traces. Otherwise the fox will find them and eat them. A hare will run past, feed her milk and then jump into the aspen forest.

Flocks of cranes stretched high in the sky. With sad cries they bid farewell to their homeland. The cranes will spend the winter in warm Africa. But as soon as the streams begin to ring in the spring, the grass turns green on the hillocks, and the cranes return home to their homeland.

The first snowflakes swirled in the air, and flocks of geese also flew south.

Folk calendar

The folk calendar calls September ryuyin(from yellowing leaves), spring(from flowering heather). And also - howler And frown. The winds are howling, the weather is gloomy, and the rain is pouring. Summer is over, street festivities and round dances have ceased. Goodbye, red sun! It got colder. That's why they called September summer guide.

IN October The fine, clear days will not last long, and the golden leaves will fall. And then bad weather comes - october-dirt. A fine cold rain will fall, the slush will dissolve - you can’t drive or walk: “October rides on a piebald mare - it loves neither the wheels nor the runner.” October - leafy, October - wedding dresser. Village weddings began in October.

Breast- that's what they called november(from piles of frozen earth). Leafy– from rotten leaves; semi-winter road– winter and autumn are fighting.

The day is waning, night is coming, the frosts are getting stronger. Autumn turns into winter.

Autumn riddles

Empty fields

The ground gets wet

The rain is pouring down.

When does this happen? 51
(Autumn)

Red Egorka

Fell on the lake

I didn't drown myself

And he didn’t stir up the water. 52
(Autumn leaf)

It grew and grew, out of the bush

It crawled out, rolled over my hands,

It ended up on my teeth. 53
(Hazelnut)

A man in gold is lying

Caftan, belted, not with a belt,

If you don’t lift it, it won’t get up. 54
(Sheaf)

There are old men standing - red caps;

Whoever comes up will bow. 55
(Red-headed mushrooms)

Folk proverbs and sayings

Summer with sheaves, autumn with pies.

In the autumn storm there are seven weather conditions in the yard - it sows, it blows, it twists, it stirs, and it roars, and it pours, and it sweeps from below!

September is cold, but full.

In the spring the rain grows, and in the fall it rots.

In November, winter fights with autumn.

The first snowball is not easy.

Folk signs

Thunder in September – warm autumn.

October thunder - for a snowless winter.

From the first snow to the sleigh ride 6 weeks.

There are a lot of rowan trees in the forest - autumn will be rainy, but few - dry.

Autumn questions

1. Which side of the tree should you look for mushrooms on? 56
From the north. Mushrooms do not have green leaves, and they do not need the sun. Mushrooms need moisture.

2. Where can you see spring in autumn? 57
In a small swamp, near the water, where the marigold blooms. In autumn it blooms for the second time.

3. What forest bush does not know leaf fall? 58
Lingonberries, heather and cranberries.

4. Whose leaves fall green? 59
In the garden there are lilac leaves, in the forest there are alder leaves.

5. Which animal will give birth to cubs during leaf fall in the fall? 60
At the hare's.

6. Which tree leaves turn red in autumn? 61
Rowan, aspen, maple.

K. Ushinsky
Four wishes

Mitya sledded down an icy mountain and skated on a frozen river, ran home rosy, cheerful and said to his father: “How fun it is in winter! I wish it were all winter!”

“Write your wish in my pocket book,” said the father. Mitya wrote it down.

Spring has come. Mitya ran to his heart's content for colorful butterflies in the green meadow, picked flowers, ran to his father and said: “What a beauty this spring is! I wish it were all spring.”

The father again took out the book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.

Summer has come. Mitya and his father went to haymaking. The boy had fun all long day: he fished, picked berries, tumbled in the fragrant hay, and in the evening he said to his father: “Today I had a lot of fun! I wish there was no end to summer.” And this desire of Mitya was written down in the same book.

Autumn has come. Fruits were collected in the garden - ruddy apples and yellow pears. Mitya was delighted and told his father: “Autumn is the best season of all!” Then the father took out his notebook and showed the boy that he had said the same thing about spring, and winter, and summer.

YES. KHAUSTOVA,
Moscow

Final control dictations
for the first half of the year

5th grade

1st option

Surprise

One frosty evening I was frightened by Mikhail Ivanovich’s exclamation. It turned out that we both fell asleep in the cart. And when they woke up, they saw themselves on the ice, under a rocky shore, in a deserted area. The bell was not heard, the cart stood motionless, the horses were unharnessed, the coachman disappeared, and Mikhail Ivanovich rubbed his eyes with fear and surprise.
Soon our bewilderment dissipated. I peered at the smooth stone shore, which stretched like a wall into the distance and sparkled under the rays of the full moon. Soon the path disappeared, and in the crevices of the rocks the high cross of a Yakut grave glowed.

(V. Korolenko)
(85 words)

Quests

Option I – frosty;
Option II – in the crevices.

2. Choose antonyms for the words:

Option I – appeared;
Option II – short.

Option I – in a cart;
Option II – shore.

2nd option

Mail

The mail - three troikas - moved, the bells began to speak confusedly and noisily, as if they were encouraging each other. Three black spots moved in the snow and flashed between the hummocks. They became smaller and smaller. They were no longer visible for a long time, but the ringing was just as clear in the frosty air. Each bell sang its own. Distance reduced only the strength, but not the clarity of the sound. Then everything disappeared, and the hills slept quietly in the shadows, and some vague dreams moved under the distant shores.

(V. Korolenko)
(76 words)

Quests

1. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – encouraged;
Option II – fell silent.

2. Select test words for the verbs:

Option I – encouraged, moved;
Option II – flickered, moved.

3. Carry out a phonetic analysis of the words:

Option I – yours;
Option II – dreams.

6th grade

1st option

Stretching from the west, like a living monster, was a black, ugly spot with a copper tint along the edges and was quickly approaching the village and the grove, spreading like huge wings to the sides. Everything in nature is sad. The cows hung their heads; the horses fanned themselves with their tails, flared their nostrils and snorted, shaking their manes. The dust under their hooves did not rise up, but fell heavily, like sand, under the wheels. The cloud was approaching menacingly. Soon a distant rumble slowly rolled through.
Everything became quiet, as if expecting something unprecedented. Where did these birds go that fluttered and sang so briskly in the sun? Where are the insects that buzzed so variedly in the grass? Everything was hidden and silent, and soulless objects seemed to share an ominous foreboding.

(I. Goncharov)
(105 words)

Quests

1. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – shaking;
Option II – rose.

Option I – Where did these birds go that fluttered and sang so briskly in the sun?
Option II – Where are the insects that buzzed so variedly in the grass?

Option I – sand;
Option II – birds.

2nd option

The trees stopped swaying and touching each other with their branches; they straightened up; only occasionally they leaned their heads together, as if mutually warning themselves in a whisper about imminent danger. The cloud had already covered the horizon and formed some kind of leaden, impenetrable arch. In the village everyone tried to go home on time. There came a moment of general solemn silence. From the forest, like a leading messenger, a fresh breeze blew through the forest, blew cool air into the traveler’s face, rustled through the leaves, slammed the gate in the hut in passing, and, swirling up dust in the street, fell silent in the bushes. A stormy whirlwind rushes behind him, slowly moving a column of dust along the road. So he burst into the village, threw down several rotten boards from the fence, tore down the thatched roof and drove roosters and hens along the street, blowing their tails.

(I. Goncharov)
(114 words)

Quests

1. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – sway;
Option II – straightened up.

2. Parse the sentences:

Option I – The cloud had already covered the horizon and formed some kind of leaden, impenetrable arch.
Option II – A stormy whirlwind rushes behind him, slowly moving a column of dust along the road.

3. Perform a morphological analysis of nouns:

Option I – about danger;
Option II – in the hut.

7th grade

1st option

Loons

Loons are true waterfowl, well adapted to the aquatic environment. Thick and dense plumage covers their body, protecting them from cooling in the water. The legs are far back. This is a characteristic characteristic of the best feathered swimmers and divers.
Loons spend their entire lives on the water, coming onto land only during the nesting period. Before diving, they squeeze the air out from under the feathers, increasing their density. Birds disappear under water with amazing speed. Underwater, they work with their legs and wings, rushing like an arrow in one direction and then in the other, chasing fish, which relatively quickly become their prey.
Water is their element, where they find food and successfully hide from enemies. On land, these birds are helpless, move with difficulty, and often crawl, pushing off with their legs.

(E. Rogacheva)
(115 words)

Quests

Option I – Thick and dense plumage covers their body, protecting them from cooling in the water.
Option II – Before diving, they squeeze the air out from under the feathers, increasing their density.

2. Perform a morphological analysis of words:

Option I – increasing;
Option II – chasing.

3. Perform morphemic analysis of nouns:

Option I – waterfowl;
Option II – nesting.

4. Choose synonyms for the words:

Option I – tortuous;
Option II – relatively.

2nd option

In the summer I lived on a peninsula beyond the Arctic Circle in a team of sea animal hunters. The weather was not kind to us, and by the end of the month it completely deteriorated.
A warm wind blew. The clouds began to hurry, and black squalls rolled across the water below. By evening the wind turned into a real storm. The green ramparts launched an attack on the shore. Approaching shallow water, they changed color, became yellow with white foamy manes, and collapsed with a roar, sweeping out flat tongues of foam in front of them.
Soon the whistling wind turned into a low rumble. The storm raged all night, suddenly subsiding in the morning. The sound of the waves became quieter. It's getting colder. When leaving, the cyclone carried dry, warm air coming from the south to the east. It was replaced by damp and cool air blowing in from the Barents Sea.

(S. Sakharnov)
(114 words)

Quests

1. Parse the sentences:

Option I – The weather was not kind to us, and by the end of the month it completely deteriorated.
Option II – The storm raged all night, suddenly subsiding in the morning.

2. Perform a morphological analysis of verbs:

Option I – were in a hurry;
Option II – took a ride.

Option I – sweeping;
Option II – subsided.

4. Choose antonyms for the words:

Option I – storm;
Option II – It's getting colder.

8th grade

1st option

Forest in late autumn

And how good this same forest is late
in the fall! There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise. The soft air is filled with the scent of autumn. A thin fog hangs in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare branches of the trees the motionless sky shines peacefully white. Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot. Dry blades of grass do not move. The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest with your dog, and your favorite images, your favorite faces come to mind. Long-dormant impressions suddenly awaken. Everything moves very clearly and stands before your eyes.
The heart will either beat and passionately rush forward, or will irrevocably drown in memories. Man owns all his past, all his feelings, all his powers, all his soul. And nothing around him bothers him. There is no wind, no noise, no sun.

(I. Turgenev)
(132 words)

Quests

1. Parse the sentences:

Option I – The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul.
Option II – You walk along the edge of the forest with your dog, and your favorite images, your favorite faces come to mind.

Option I – in soft;
Option II – raw.

3. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – motionless, in memories;
Option II – asleep, naked.

Option I – leaves;
Option II – sun.

2nd option

Alexey Maksimovich Gorky encouraged writers to learn Russian from Prishvin. Prishvin's language is precise, simple and very picturesque in its colloquialism. Botanists have the term “forbs.” It usually refers to flowering meadows. Forbs are a tangle of hundreds of diverse and cheerful flowers, spread out in continuous carpets along the floodplains of rivers. These are thickets of carnations, lungwort, tributary grass, chamomile, mallow, plantain, wolf's bast, St. John's wort, chicory and many other flowers. Prishvin’s prose can rightfully be called “a variety of herbs of the Russian language.”
Prishvin’s words bloom and sparkle. They are full of freshness and light. They either rustle like leaves, or mutter like springs, or whistle like birds, or ring like the fragile first ice, or lie down in our memory in a slow formation, like the movement of stars over the edge of a forest.

(K. Paustovsky)
(114 words)

Quests

1. Parse the sentences:

Option I – Prishvin's language is precise, simple and very picturesque in its colloquialism.
Option II – Forbs are a tangle of hundreds of diverse and cheerful flowers, spread out in continuous carpets along the floodplains of rivers.

2. Perform a morphological analysis of adjectives:

Option I – in soft;
Option II – raw.

3. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – sprawling, picturesque;
Option II – forbs, varied

4. Perform phonetic analysis of words:

Option I – accurate;
Option II – picturesque.

9th grade

1st option

About intelligence

A person must be intelligent...
Many people think: an intelligent person is one who has read a lot, received a good education, traveled a lot, and knows several languages.
Meanwhile, you can have all this and be unintelligent, and you can not possess any of this to a large extent, but still be an internally intelligent person...
Intelligence is not only about knowledge, but about the ability to understand others. It manifests itself in a thousand and a thousand little things: in the ability to argue respectfully, in the ability to quietly (precisely imperceptibly) help another, to take care of nature, even in the habit of behaving modestly at the table, not littering around oneself - not littering with cigarette butts or swearing, bad ideas (this also garbage, and whatnot).
I knew peasants in the Russian North who were truly intelligent. They maintained amazing cleanliness in their homes, knew how to appreciate good songs, knew how to tell “happenings” (that is, what happened to them or others), lived an orderly life, were hospitable and friendly, treated with understanding both the grief of others and someone else's joy.
Intelligence is the ability to understand, to perceive, it is an attitude towards the world and towards people.
You need to develop intelligence in yourself, train it – train your mental strength, just as you train your physical strength.

(D. Likhachev)
(183 words)

Quests

1. Parse the sentences:

Option I – Meanwhile, you can have all this and be unintelligent, and you can not possess any of this to a large extent, but still be an internally intelligent person.
Option II – Many people think: an intelligent person is one who has read a lot, received a good education, traveled a lot, and knows several languages.

2. Perform morphemic analysis of words:

Option I – amazing;
Option II – hospitable.

3. Choose antonyms for the words:

Option I – purity;
Option II – ordered.

2nd option

About beauty

From the time man became a man, from the time he gazed at the beauty of the evening dawn, he began to gaze into himself.
Beauty is deeply human. This is the joy of our life.
Man became Man because he saw the depth of the azure sky, the twinkling of stars, the pink spill of the evening dawn, the crimson sunset before a windy day, the fluttering haze over the horizon, the endless distance of the steppes, blue shadows in the snowdrifts of March snow, a flock of cranes in the blue sky, the reflection of the sun in myriad drops of morning dew, gray threads of rain on a cloudy autumn day, a purple cloud in a lilac bush, a delicate stem and blue bell of a snowdrop - I saw and, amazed, walked along the earth, creating new beauty.
From the time man became a man, from the time he gazed at the beauty of the evening dawn, he began to gaze into himself.
The joy of life opened up before a man because he heard the whisper of leaves and the song of a grasshopper, the murmuring of a spring stream and the shimmer of silver bells, a lark in the hot summer sky, the rustling of snowflakes and the groan of a blizzard outside the window, the gentle splashing of waves and the solemn silence of the night - he heard and, holding his breath, he listens for hundreds and thousands of years to the wonderful music of life.
Know how to listen to this music too. Cherish beauty, take care of it.

(V. Sukhomlinsky)
(180 words)

Quests

1. Parse the sentences:

Option I – From the time man became a man, from the time he gazed at the beauty of the evening dawn, he began to gaze into himself.
Option II – From the time man became a man, from the time he gazed at the beauty of the evening dawn, he began to gaze into himself.

2. Perform morphemic analysis of nouns:

Option I – snowdrop;
Option II – nobility.

3. Perform a phonetic analysis of nouns:

Option I – beauty;
Option II – life.

And how good this same forest is in late autumn,
when the woodcocks arrive! How to find them? - I can't imagine.
They do not stay in the middle of nowhere: you need to look for them along the edge of the forest.
There is no wind and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise;
an autumn smell, similar to the smell of wine, is diffused in the soft air;
a thin fog stands in the distance over the yellow fields, where I haven’t been for a long time.
Through the naked, brown branches of trees
The motionless sky is peacefully white;
Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees.
The damp earth is elastic underfoot, covered in leaves;
the tall dry blades of grass do not move;
long threads glisten on the pale grass.
The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul.
You walk along the edge of the forest, you look after the dog, and meanwhile a lot of things pop up in your thoughts -
favorite images, favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, reappear,
impressions that had fallen asleep a long time ago suddenly awaken;
the imagination soars and flutters like a bird between faded gardens,
and everything moves so clearly and stands before your eyes.
The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward,
then he will drown irrevocably in memories, diving into a whirlpool of thoughts.
All life unfolds easily and quickly, like a scroll;
Man owns all his past, all his feelings, all his powers, all his soul.
And nothing around him in his soul bothers him -
there is no sun, no wind, no noise - what a century...
And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning(!),
when the birch, like a fairy-tale tree, doesn’t even cast a shadow,
all golden, beautifully drawn on the pale blue sky, decorating it,
when the low Sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than the summer sun,
a small aspen grove sparkles through and through,
as if it was fun and easy for her to stand naked, amazing everyone,
a fresh wind gently stirs and drives away the fallen, warped leaves,
and the frost still turns white at the bottom of the valleys, surprising -
when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, like through a field of cornflowers,
rhythmically raising the scattered ducks and geese;
in the distance the mill knocks, half-hidden by willows,
and, dappled in the bright air, pigeons quickly circle above her...
––––––––––––
Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev. Notes of a hunter. Forest and steppe (excerpt).
And how beautiful this same forest is in late autumn, when the woodcocks arrive! They do not stay in the middle of nowhere: you need to look for them along the edge of the forest. There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise; an autumn smell, similar to the smell of wine, is diffused in the soft air; a thin fog stands in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare, brown branches of the trees the motionless sky peacefully whitens; Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot; the tall dry blades of grass do not move; long threads glisten on the pale grass. The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest, you look after the dog, and meanwhile your favorite images, your favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, long-dormant impressions suddenly awaken; the imagination soars and flutters like a bird, and everything moves so clearly and stands before the eyes. The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward, then it will irrevocably drown in memories. All life unfolds easily and quickly like a scroll; A person owns all his past, all his feelings, his powers, his entire soul. And nothing around him bothers him - no sun, no wind, no noise...
And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when a birch tree, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than a summer one, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it is fun and easy for her to stand naked, the frost is still white at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind gently stirs and drives away the fallen, warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, regularly lifting scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-hidden by willows, and, dappling the light air, pigeons quickly circle above it...

...And little by little it started back
To pull him: to the village, to the dark garden,
Where the linden trees are so huge, so shady,
And the lilies of the valley are so virginally fragrant,

Where are the round willows above the water?
A line of people leaned down from the dam,
Where a fat oak tree grows over a fat cornfield,
Where it smells like hemp and nettles...

There, there, into the wild fields,
Where the earth turns black like velvet,
Where is the rye, wherever you cast your eyes,
Flows quietly in soft waves.

And a heavy yellow ray falls
Because of the transparent, white, round clouds;

It's good there. . . . . . . . .

(From a poem dedicated to burning)

The reader may already be bored with my notes; I hasten to reassure him with a promise to limit myself to printed passages; but, parting with him, I cannot help but say a few words about hunting.

Hunting with a gun and a dog is beautiful in itself, fur sich, as they used to say in the old days; but suppose you were not born a hunter: you still love nature; you, therefore, cannot help but envy our brother... Listen.

Do you know, for example, what a pleasure it is to go out before dawn in the spring? You go out onto the porch... In the dark gray sky, stars are blinking here and there; a damp breeze occasionally comes in a light wave; the restrained, indistinct whisper of the night is heard; the trees make a faint noise, bathed in shadow. They put a carpet on the cart and put a box with a samovar at its feet. Those who are attached shudder, snort and step their feet smartly; A pair of white geese that have just woken up silently and slowly move across the road. Behind the fence, in the garden, the watchman is snoring peacefully; every sound seems to stand in frozen air, stands and does not pass. So you sat down; the horses started off at once, the cart rattled loudly... You are driving - you are driving past the church, down the mountain to the right, across the dam... The pond is barely starting to smoke. You are a little cold, you cover your face with the collar of your overcoat; you are dozing. The horses splash their feet noisily through the puddles; the coachman whistles. But now you’ve gone about four miles... The edge of the sky turns red; jackdaws wake up in the birch trees, awkwardly fly; sparrows chirp near the dark stacks. The air brightens, the road becomes clearer, the sky becomes clearer, the clouds turn white, the fields turn green. In the huts, splinters burn with red fire, and sleepy voices can be heard outside the gates. Meanwhile, the dawn flares up; now golden stripes stretch across the sky, steam swirls in the ravines; The larks sing loudly, the pre-dawn wind blows - and the crimson sun quietly rises. The light will just flow in like a stream; your heart will flutter like a bird. Fresh, fun, loving! You can see far all around. There's a village behind the grove; there is another one with a white church further away, there is a birch forest on the mountain; behind it is a swamp, where you are going... Lively, horses, lively! At a fast trot forward!.. Three versts left, no more. The sun is rising quickly; the sky is clear... The weather will be nice. The herd reached out from the village towards you. You climbed the mountain... What a view! The river meanders for ten miles, dimly blue through the fog; behind it are watery green meadows; beyond the meadows there are gentle hills; in the distance, lapwings hover screaming over the swamp; through the damp shine diffused in the air, the distance clearly appears... not like in the summer. How freely the chest breathes, how cheerfully the limbs move, how the whole person grows stronger, embraced by the fresh breath of spring!..

And a summer, July morning! Who, besides the hunter, has experienced how pleasant it is to wander through the bushes at dawn? The trace of your feet lies like a green line across the dewy, whitened grass. If you part the wet bush, you will be bombarded with the accumulated warm smell of the night; the whole air is filled with the fresh bitterness of wormwood, buckwheat honey and “porridge”; In the distance, an oak forest stands like a wall and shines and turns red and the sun; It’s still fresh, but you can already feel the heat coming. The head is languidly spinning from the excess of fragrances. There is no end to the bush... Here and there, in the distance, ripening rye turns yellow, and buckwheat turns red in narrow stripes. The cart creaked; A man makes his way at a step, puts his horse in the shade in advance... You greeted him, walked away - the sonorous clang of a scythe can be heard behind you. The sun is getting higher and higher. The grass dries quickly. It's already getting hot. An hour passes, then another... The sky darkens around the edges; The still air suffuses with a prickly heat.

Where can I get a drink here, brother? - you ask the mower.

And there, in the ravine, is a well.

Through dense hazel bushes, tangled with tenacious grass, you descend to the bottom of the ravine. Exactly: right under the cliff there is a source; the oak bush greedily spread its clawed branches over the water; large silvery bubbles, swaying, rise from the bottom covered with fine, velvety moss. You throw yourself on the ground, you are drunk, but you are too lazy to move. You are in the shade, you breathe the odorous dampness; you feel good, but opposite you the bushes heat up and seem to turn yellow in the sun. But what is it? The wind suddenly came and rushed by; the air trembled all around: was it thunder? You are coming out of the ravine... what is that lead stripe in the sky? Is the heat getting thicker? Is a cloud approaching?.. But lightning flashed faintly... Eh, yes, it’s a thunderstorm! The sun is still shining brightly all around: you can still hunt. But the cloud grows: its front edge stretches out like a sleeve, tilts like an arch. The grass, the bushes, everything suddenly went dark... Hurry! over there, it seems, you can see the hay barn... quickly!.. You ran, entered... How is the rain? what are lightning? Here and there, through the thatched roof, water dripped onto the fragrant hay... But then the sun began to shine again. The storm has passed; Are you getting off. My God, how cheerfully everything sparkles around, how fresh and liquid the air is, how it smells of strawberries and mushrooms!..

But then evening comes. The dawn burst into flames and engulfed half the sky. The sun is setting. The air nearby is somehow especially transparent, like glass; soft steam lies in the distance, warm in appearance; along with the dew, a scarlet shine falls onto the clearings, recently doused with streams of liquid gold; Long shadows ran from the trees, from the bushes, from the tall haystacks... The sun had set; the star has lit up and trembles in the fiery sea of ​​sunset... Now it is turning pale; the sky turns blue; individual shadows disappear, the air fills with darkness. It's time to go home, to the village, to the hut where you spend the night. Throwing the gun over your shoulders, you walk quickly, despite your fatigue... Meanwhile, night comes; twenty steps away it’s no longer visible; the dogs barely turn white in the darkness. Over there, above the black bushes, the edge of the sky becomes vaguely clear... What is this? fire?.. No, it's the moon rising. And down below, to the right, the lights of the village are already flashing... Here is your hut at last. Through the window you see a table covered with a white tablecloth, a burning candle, dinner...

Otherwise, you’ll order a racing droshky and go into the forest to hunt hazel grouse. It's fun to make your way along the narrow path between two walls of tall rye. Ears of corn quietly hit you in the face, cornflowers cling to your legs, quails scream all around, the horse runs at a lazy trot. Here is the forest. Shadow and silence. Stately aspens babble high above you; the long, hanging branches of the birches barely move; a mighty oak tree stands like a fighter next to a beautiful linden tree. You are driving along a green path dotted with shadows; large yellow flies hang motionless in the golden air and suddenly fly away; midges curl in a column, lighter in the shade, darker in the sun; the birds howl peacefully. The golden voice of the robin sounds with innocent, chatty joy: it goes to the smell of lilies of the valley. Further, further, deeper into the forest... The forest becomes deaf... An inexplicable silence sinks into the soul; and everything around is so drowsy and quiet. But then the wind came, and the tops rustled like falling waves. Tall grasses grow here and there through last year's brown leaves; The mushrooms stand separately under their caps. The hare will suddenly jump out, the dog will rush after him with a ringing bark...

And how beautiful this same forest is in late autumn, when the woodcocks arrive! They do not stay in the middle of nowhere: you need to look for them along the edge of the forest. There is no wind, and there is no sun, no light, no shadow, no movement, no noise; an autumn smell, similar to the smell of wine, is diffused in the soft air; a thin fog stands in the distance over the yellow fields. Through the bare, brown branches of the trees the motionless sky peacefully whitens; Here and there the last golden leaves hang on the linden trees. The damp earth is elastic underfoot; the tall dry blades of grass do not move; long threads glisten on the pale grass. The chest breathes calmly, but a strange anxiety enters the soul. You walk along the edge of the forest, you look after the dog, and meanwhile your favorite images, your favorite faces, dead and alive, come to mind, long-dormant impressions suddenly awaken; the imagination soars and flutters like a bird, and everything moves so clearly and stands before the eyes. The heart will suddenly tremble and beat, passionately rush forward, then it will irrevocably drown in memories. All life unfolds easily and quickly like a scroll; A person owns all his past, all his feelings, his powers, his entire soul. And nothing around him bothers him - no sun, no wind, no noise...

And an autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when a birch tree, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in the pale blue sky, when the low sun no longer warms, but shines brighter than a summer one, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it is fun and easy for her to stand naked, the frost is still white at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind gently stirs and drives away the fallen, warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, rhythmically lifting scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-hidden by willows, and, dappling the light air, pigeons quickly circle above it...

Summer foggy days are also good, although hunters do not like them. On such days you cannot shoot: the bird, having fluttered out from under your feet, immediately disappears into the whitish darkness of the motionless fog. But how quiet, how inexpressibly quiet everything is around! Everything is awake and everything is silent. You pass by a tree - it does not move: it luxuriates. Through the thin steam, evenly spread in the air, a long strip blackens in front of you. You take it for a nearby forest; you approach - the forest turns into a high bed of wormwood at the boundary. Above you, all around you, there is fog everywhere... But then the wind moves slightly - a piece of pale blue sky will vaguely appear through the thinning, as if smoky steam, a golden-yellow ray will suddenly burst in, flow in a long stream, hit the fields, rest against the grove - and behold everything became clouded again. This struggle continues for a long time; but how unspeakably magnificent and clear the day becomes when the light finally triumphs and the last waves of warmed fog either roll down and spread like tablecloths, or soar and disappear into the deep, gently shining heights...

But now you are gathered in the departing field, in the steppe. You made your way about ten versts along country roads - finally, here is a big one. Past endless carts, past inns with a hissing samovar under a canopy, wide open gates and a well, from one village to another, through vast fields, along green hemp fields, you drive for a long, long time. Magpies fly from willow to willow; women, with long rakes in their hands, wander into the field; a passerby in a worn nankeen caftan, with a knapsack over his shoulders, trudges along with a tired step; a heavy landowner's carriage, drawn by six tall and broken horses, is sailing towards you. The corner of a pillow sticks out of the window, and on the back of a bag, holding on to a string, sits sideways a footman in an overcoat, splashed to the very eyebrows. Here is a provincial town with wooden crooked houses, endless fences, merchant uninhabited stone buildings, an ancient bridge over a deep ravine... Further, further!.. Off to the steppe places. If you look from the mountain - what a view! Round, low hills, plowed and sown to the top, scatter in wide waves; ravines overgrown with bushes meander between them; small groves are scattered on oblong islands; Narrow paths run from village to village; churches turn white; between the vines the river sparkles, intercepted by dams in four places; far out in the field the woods stick out in single file; an old manor house with its services, an orchard and a threshing floor nestled next to a small pond. But further, further you go. The hills are getting smaller and smaller, there is almost no tree to be seen. Here it is, finally - the boundless, vast steppe!

And on a winter day, walking through high snowdrifts following hares, breathing in the frosty, sharp air, involuntarily squinting at the dazzling fine sparkle of soft snow, admiring the green color of the sky over the reddish forest!.. And the first spring days, when everything around shines and collapses, through the heavy the steam of melted snow already smells of warmed earth, in the thawed patches, under the slanting ray of the sun, larks trustingly sing, and, with a cheerful noise and roar, streams swirl from ravine to ravine...

However, it's time to end. By the way, I started talking about spring: in spring it is easy to part, in spring even the happy are drawn into the distance... Farewell, reader; I wish you continued well-being.