Respite Skrebitsky conclusions and reviews. Forest great-grandfather (stories)
The story has several main characters. These are children, forester. Let us consider the birch tree growing in the field to be the main “characters” of the story. According to the plot of the story, it was not close from the village to the nearest forest, and the road to the forest went through a field. On a hot day, it would be difficult for travelers to walk along this road under the scorching sun, and if it were not for the birch tree growing in the middle of the path to the forest, then it would be very difficult for people. Everyone going to the forest and back stopped to rest in the shade of a birch tree. Over time, the birch tree received its name - “Respite”.
In the fall, the guys walked past Respite and stopped to rest. It was cold and they tried to light a fire, but the wind prevented them from doing so. Then the children lit a fire right at the roots of the birch tree, where there was a depression that protected the fire from the wind. They liked doing this and all autumn they burned a fire at the roots of the birch tree. And in the spring it turned out that the birch could not withstand the fire and withered. Over time, the men cut down the dried birch tree for firewood, only a wide stump remained. There was now nowhere for travelers to hide from the heat.
But one day a forester passed by the stump with the guys and the guys told him what happened to the birch tree. The forester quickly came up with a solution - to plant bushes and young birch trees along the road in the fall. The guys did this in the fall under the guidance of a forester. And now many bushes and trees began to grow along the road, sheltering travelers from the scorching sun. And the wide stump from the dead birch was used for rest. And this place still has the same name - “Respite”.
This is the summary of the story.
The main point of the story is that nature must be treated with care and then nature will repay people with kindness. The children destroyed the birch tree, but they did it not with the intention of destroying it, but out of ignorance. And here a large share of the blame lies with the adults, who did not explain to the children that they should not burn a fire near the roots of trees.
In the story, I liked the forester - an active person. No one but him took care of resolving the situation and making the path from the village to the forest comfortable for travelers.
What proverbs fit Skrebitsky’s story “Respite”?
It's not hard to destroy a tree, but it's hard to grow a forest.
And the birch tree’s tears run when the birch bark is torn from it.
Don't spit in the well - you'll need to drink the water.
Anyone who has not planted a tree should not rest in the shade.
It's easy to destroy, but difficult to grow.
She stands away from everyone,
Here on a high hillock.
Green branches shirt
Rinses in the summer breeze.
Coming out of the forest, kids
They will sit down to rest under it.
She was nicknamed "Respite".
From the village to the nearest forest the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun is baking, it’s hot. There seems to be no end to this field.
But just halfway along the road, a green, spreading birch grew.
No matter who goes from the forest to the village or back, he will definitely sit down and relax in the cool shade under an old tree.
And so it used to be glorious: all around the field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh and cool. The green leaves rustle overhead, as if calling you to sit down and rest a little.
So the locals called this birch “Respite”.
In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, but Respite has already turned green, stands in the middle of a field, all covered with sticky young leaves.
And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow and golden leaves will fly from the tree.
Whole flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on a birch tree.
And so it used to be, year after year, for many years: whether a person walks from the forest to the village, or a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, a birch tree in the middle of a field serves as a rest.
But then one autumn the boys were returning home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch tree and, as expected, sat down to rest.
It’s unpleasant all around in autumn: the field is empty, gray, the grain has been harvested from it long ago, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard, prickly brush. And right next to the road, the potato beds turn dark. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds beat them to the very ground.
The guys sat under a tree for a while, and then one of them suggested: “Let’s light a fire, warm ourselves up and bake potatoes in the ashes.”
No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it did not burn, the wind blew out the fire.
Wait! - one boy shouts. - Drag the branches to the birch tree. There, right at the roots, it’s like a stove, there’s no way the fire will blow out.
That's how it was arranged.
Since then, the guys settled down to build a fire between the birch roots and bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to light a fire: they would strip the bark from the same birch tree, it would burn hotly, and in an instant the fire would flare up.
All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped off. And between the roots the fire burned a large black hole - a real oven.
Winter came. The guys stopped going into the forest.
Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. In the middle of a white field, only a birch tree was visible. Its branches became icy and covered with frost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch tree seemed soft pink, as if painted with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But now she was not very noticeable - the outside was lightly dusted with snow.
But now winter has passed. Streams began to flow, the thawed patches in the field became colorful, everything around blossomed and turned green.
And only one Respite this spring was not covered with thick green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke its dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.
Our birch tree has dried up, there will be no respite now, they said in the village.
And then one day people arrived on road with an ax and a saw, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.
All that was left of Respite was a stump, and below it was a black, charred hole.
One day a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It’s hot, but there’s nowhere to hide from the sun; there’s only one tree stump sticking out by the road.
The forester looked at him and waved his hand.
Who, he says, had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole right at the roots and tore off all the bark from the trunk...
The boys felt ashamed. That's what they did out of ignorance. They looked at each other and told the forester about everything.
He shook his head.
Well,” he says, “you can’t undo what happened, but now you need to correct your guilt.”
The guys were happy. But how can I fix it?
“Well,” said the old man, “come to my lodge in the fall.” We will dig up young bushes and birches and plant them all along the road.
That's what we decided. This was ten years ago.
And now from the village to the forest the entire road is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path there is an old wide stump sticking out.
This is where everyone still sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some sit just like that, on the ground, under the shadow of dense young birch trees. And this place is still called “Respite”.
Alma ran into the room and came back a second later. She held my slipper in her teeth.
"Maybe you need this?" - she seemed to ask.
So smart! - I was happy, taking off my heavy mountain boot and putting on a light sneaker.
Alma rushed into the room as fast as she could and brought me a second one. I stroked and caressed the dog.
“So this is the kind of game he needs,” she apparently decided and began to drag everything from the room to me: socks, a towel, a shirt.
Enough, enough! - I shouted, laughing, but Alma did not stop until she had carried everything she could get and bring.
From then on, she began to directly harass me. As soon as I forgot to lock the door to the room, Alma was already stealing some clothes from there. So she tried to please me all day. And at night she slept on the porch, near my room, and did not let anyone in to see me.
But our friendship was soon to come to an end. I left Guzeripl for Maykop, and from there to the southern section of the reserve. I decided to take Alma with me and, passing through Khamyshki, give her to her owner.
Finally we set off. The road was disgusting. I put my things on the cart, and I walked ahead on foot. Alma was running happily near the road.
But then Khamyshki appeared in the valley.
“Will Alma somehow meet his old master?” - I involuntarily thought with a jealous feeling.
At the edge of the village there is a white house where he lives. We arrived. The owner himself was busy with the cart. Hearing the sound of wheels, he turned around and saw a dog.
Almushka, where did you come from? - he exclaimed joyfully.
Alma paused for a second and suddenly rushed to her owner as fast as she could. She squealed and jumped on his chest, apparently not knowing how to express her joy. Then, as if remembering something, she rushed to our cart, jumped on it, and before I had time to come to my senses, Alma grabbed my hat lying on the straw in her teeth and carried it to her owner.
Oh, you scoundrel! - I laughed. - Now you're stealing everything from me. Let's go back here.
I walked over and bent over to the dog to take my thing from her. But Alma, putting her on the ground, pressed her tightly with her paw and, baring her teeth, growled angrily at me. I was amazed.
Alma, don’t you recognize me? Almushka!
But the dog, of course, recognized me. She lay down on the ground, looked guiltily into her eyes, and wagged her stump of tail; She seemed to be asking to be forgiven, but still she did not give up the hat.
You can, give it back, give it back,” the owner allowed.
Then Alma squealed cheerfully and willingly allowed me to take her diarrhea.
I petted the dog. She looked at me just as kindly and friendly. But I felt that now she had found her real master, whom she would obey in everything.
Smart little dog,” I said. And I was no longer offended that Alma so easily exchanged me for another. After all, the other one raised, educated, taught her, and to him alone she gave forever all her devotion and love.
"BREATH"
She stands away from everyone,
Here on a high hillock.
Green branches shirt
Rinses in the summer breeze.
Coming out of the forest, kids
They will sit down to rest under it.
She was nicknamed "Respite".
From the village to the nearest forest the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun is baking, it’s hot. There seems to be no end to this field.
But just halfway along the road, a green, spreading birch grew.
No matter who goes from the forest to the village or back, he will definitely sit down and relax in the cool shade under an old tree.
And so it used to be glorious: all around the field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh and cool. The green leaves rustle overhead, as if calling you to sit down and rest a little.
So the locals called this birch “Respite”.
In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, but Respite has already turned green, stands in the middle of a field, all covered with sticky young leaves.
And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow and golden leaves will fly from the tree.
Whole flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on a birch tree.
And so it used to be, year after year, for many years: whether a person walks from the forest to the village, or a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, a birch tree in the middle of a field serves as a rest.
But then one autumn the boys were returning home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch tree and, as expected, sat down to rest.
It’s unpleasant all around in autumn: the field is empty, gray, the grain has been harvested from it long ago, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard, prickly brush. And right next to the road, the potato beds turn dark. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds beat them to the very ground.
The guys sat under a tree for a while, and then one of them suggested: “Let’s light a fire, warm ourselves up and bake potatoes in the ashes.”
No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it did not burn, the wind blew out the fire.
Wait! - one boy shouts. - Drag the branches to the birch tree. There, right at the roots, it’s like a stove, there’s no way the fire will blow out.
That's how it was arranged.
Since then, the guys settled down to build a fire between the birch roots and bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to light a fire: they would strip the bark from the same birch tree, it would burn hotly, and in an instant the fire would flare up.
All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped off. And between the roots the fire burned a large black hole - a real oven.
Winter came. The guys stopped going into the forest.
Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. In the middle of a white field, only a birch tree was visible. Its branches became icy and covered with frost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch tree seemed soft pink, as if painted with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But now she was not very noticeable - the outside was lightly dusted with snow.
But now winter has passed. Streams began to flow, the thawed patches in the field became colorful, everything around blossomed and turned green.
And only one Respite this spring was not covered with thick green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke its dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.
Our birch tree has dried up, there will be no respite now, they said in the village.
Lesson objectives:
- To introduce the concept of “popular science literature” by reading G. Skrebitsky’s article “Respite”. Develop the skill of conscious and fluent reading.
- Develop speech, memory, attention, observation.
- Foster a caring attitude towards nature.
Equipment: portrait of the writer, books for the exhibition, cards with the plan.
During the classes
1. Organization of the beginning of the lesson.
— New books living lines
They open the way wide.
We couldn't live without books
Their eternal light is dear to us,
Good, interesting books...
Children in chorus: “We send hello to the whole class!”
2. Updating basic knowledge.
- Let's check how you know the genres of works.
— What is a “genre”? (Genre is a stable type of artistic work.)
Test.
I. Krylov “The Cuckoo and the Rooster” _____________________________________________________
E. Uspensky “Uncle Fyodor, cat and dog” _____________________________________________
S. Yesenin “Good morning!” _____________________________________________________
M. Prishvin “Golden Meadow” _______________________________________________________
— All these works belong to fiction.
3. Lesson topic message.
— Today in class we will get acquainted with the concept of “popular science literature,” which includes articles and essays.
— How do you understand this term?
— A scientific article describes not only phenomena and their signs, but also gives them a scientific basis.
4. Preparing for reading.
—What do trees look like at different times of the year? Describe them.
— What do you especially remember?
-What was beautiful about it?
— Guess the riddle about which tree we will read the article about:
They scattered along the edge of the forest
Girlfriends in white dresses.
(birch) illustration
— Read the title of the article.
- Choose related words for the word “respite”. (rest, rest, rest)
- Compare their values.
- Listen now, how interestingly and surprisingly subtly Georgy Alekseevich Skrebitsky described a birch at different times of the year, in a seemingly ordinary tree for us, but so unusual, who loved to go to the river, to the forest, imagine himself as a brave traveler, hunter, loved to observe for plants and animals.
5. Reading and analysis of the article.
A) Primary reading.
— Who owned the name “respite” before?
- What do people call this word now?
(Holistic reading by trained students.)
B) Repeated reading along the chain with commentary.
— What did the road look like?
- What were the travelers doing in the cool shade of the tree?
— What did the locals call this birch tree?
— What did Respite look like in early spring? In the fall?
—What did birch serve for birds and people?
— What did the guys at the birch tree adapt to do?
— What does a birch tree look like in winter?
— What happened to Respite in the spring?
— What did the place left from the Respite look like?
— Who corrected this error and how?
— What does this place look like now?
6. Generalization of knowledge gained from reading.
A) Read the beginning of the article yourself. How many parts did you divide it into? (2)
- Why?
— What is said in the first part? In the second part?
— How to title part 1? How to title part 2?
— Independent reading of the article to the end.
— What is said in the third part? In the fourth part?
— How to title part 3? How to title part 4?
Plan.
- A birch tree grew by the road.
- A fire between the roots.
- The birch tree has dried up.
- The “respite” is making noise again.
B) Retelling the text according to plan.
B) Selective reading. Working with illustrations.
— Read the description of the birch tree in summer for the first illustration.
— What does a birch tree look like in autumn? Read it.
— Read what Respite looks like in winter.
— What does the road from the village to the forest look like now?
— What conclusion will you draw for yourself from this article?
D) Exhibition of popular science literature.
7. Lesson summary.
— What work did you get acquainted with? What genre of literature does it belong to?
— What is the main idea?
Alma, don’t you recognize me? Almushka!
But the dog, of course, recognized me. She lay down on the ground, looked guiltily into her eyes, and wagged her stump of tail; She seemed to be asking to be forgiven, but still she did not give up the hat.
You can, give it back, give it back,” the owner allowed.
Then Alma squealed cheerfully and willingly allowed me to take her diarrhea.
I petted the dog. She looked at me just as kindly and friendly. But I felt that now she had found her real master, whom she would obey in everything.
Smart little dog,” I said. And I was no longer offended that Alma so easily exchanged me for another. After all, the other one raised, educated, taught her, and to him alone she gave forever all her devotion and love.
"BREATH"
From the village to the nearest forest the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun is baking, it’s hot. There seems to be no end to this field.
But just halfway along the road, a green, spreading birch grew.
No matter who goes from the forest to the village or back, he will definitely sit down and relax in the cool shade under an old tree.
And so it used to be glorious: all around the field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh and cool. The green leaves rustle overhead, as if calling you to sit down and rest a little.
So the locals called this birch “Respite”.
In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, but Respite has already turned green, stands in the middle of a field, all covered with sticky young leaves.
And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow and golden leaves will fly from the tree.
Whole flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on a birch tree.
And so it used to be, year after year, for many years: whether a person walks from the forest to the village, or a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, a birch tree in the middle of a field serves as a rest.
But then one autumn the boys were returning home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch tree and, as expected, sat down to rest.
It’s unpleasant all around in autumn: the field is empty, gray, the grain has been harvested from it long ago, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard, prickly brush. And right next to the road, the potato beds turn dark. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds beat them to the very ground.
The guys sat under a tree for a while, and then one of them suggested: “Let’s light a fire, warm ourselves up and bake potatoes in the ashes.”
No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it did not burn, the wind blew out the fire.
Wait! - one boy shouts. - Drag the branches to the birch tree. There, right at the roots, it’s like a stove, there’s no way the fire will blow out.
That's how it was arranged.
Since then, the guys settled down to build a fire between the birch roots and bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to light a fire: they would strip the bark from the same birch tree, it would burn hotly, and in an instant the fire would flare up.
All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped off. And between the roots the fire burned a large black hole - a real oven.
Winter came. The guys stopped going into the forest.
Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. In the middle of a white field, only a birch tree was visible. Its branches became icy and covered with frost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch tree seemed soft pink, as if painted with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But now she was not very noticeable - the outside was lightly dusted with snow.
But now winter has passed. Streams began to flow, the thawed patches in the field became colorful, everything around blossomed and turned green.
And only one Respite this spring was not covered with thick green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke its dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.
Our birch tree has dried up, there will be no respite now, they said in the village.
And then one day people arrived on road with an ax and a saw, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.
All that was left of Respite was a stump, and below it was a black, charred hole.
One day a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It’s hot, but there’s nowhere to hide from the sun; there’s only one tree stump sticking out by the road.
The forester looked at him and waved his hand.
Who, he says, had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole right at the roots and tore off all the bark from the trunk...
The boys felt ashamed. That's what they did out of ignorance. They looked at each other and told the forester about everything.
He shook his head.
Well,” he says, “you can’t undo what happened, but now you need to correct your guilt.”
The guys were happy. But how can I fix it?
“Well,” said the old man, “come to my lodge in the fall.” We will dig up young bushes and birches and plant them all along the road.
That's what we decided. This was ten years ago.
And now from the village to the forest the entire road is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path there is an old wide stump sticking out.
This is where everyone still sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some sit just like that, on the ground, under the shadow of dense young birch trees. And this place is still called “Respite”.
FOREST MIGRANTS
It was cold in the morning and it was drizzling. But after lunch, the clouds suddenly parted, the sun came out, and it became completely warm again.
Seryozha quickly took his fishing rods and a can of worms and ran to his friend Vita to invite him to go fishing.
They met Vitya on the way. He ran with fishing rods to Seryozha.
This is great! - both were delighted. - We have everything in agreement. So without delay!
And the boys, winking at each other, cheerfully headed out of the village to the river.
A hard, as if rolled, path slipped into dense thickets of willow. The guys, not without difficulty, made their way through the tenacious branches to the shore.
The river stretched out before them, wide and deep.
Look, Vitya, the water is completely blue,” said Seryozha. - This always happens in the fall.
Vitya also looked at the blue river, at the first yellow leaves floating near the shore, and answered gloomily:
Yes, summer has passed. Goodbye now swimming, fishing...
The boys crawled under a large willow bush, took out two homemade oars, untied the flat-bottomed boat standing under the willow tree and sailed up the river to the treasured place under the steep yar. This place was familiar to them. Large perches were caught there, and sometimes bream were caught.
Having reached the steep yar, the fishermen lowered a heavy stone on a rope to the bottom instead of an anchor. The boat immediately stopped, rocking slightly from the slow flow of the water.
While Vitya was slowly untying his tackle and putting the bait on the hooks, Seryozha had already cast two fishing rods.
Don't dig around! - he said impatiently to his friend.
Finally, Vitya also got everything in order, threw out his fishing rods, and both, sitting down comfortably, began to wait for the bite.
Without losing sight of their floats, the guys at the same time looked around, at the wide, already crystal-clear expanse of the river in autumn. Its left bank, which was washed away by water, was steep and forested. Old, decayed birch and pine trees seemed to descend along the clay slope to the river. They grabbed onto the ledges of the shore with hooked exposed roots. Right there, on the loose clay landslides, some bushes perched. Everything was still green, and only in the distance, at the very bend, like the fire of a fire on a windless day, a lonely rowan bush was brightly red - the first herald of the coming autumn.