IVAN SHMELEV

Tomorrow is the Transfiguration, and the day after tomorrow they will take me somewhere to the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, to a huge pink house in the garden, behind a cast-iron lattice, to take an exam for a gymnasium, and I study and teach the "Sacred History" of Athens. “Tomorrow” - that's just what they say - but they'll take you two or three years later, but they say “tomorrow” because the exam always happens the day after the Transfiguration of the Savior. All of us say that the main thing is to know the Law of God well. I know him well, even what page, but still very scary, so scary that it even takes your breath away as soon as you remember. Gorkin knows that I am afraid. With one hatchet, he recently cut out a terrible "nutcracker" for me, which gnaws nuts. He calms me down. He will lure you into the chill under the boards, on a bunch of shavings, and start asking from a book. He reads, perhaps, worse than me, but for some reason he knows everything, which even I do not know. "Come on," he will say, "tell me something of the divine ..."

Kustodiev Boris Mikhailovich. On the terrace.

I will tell him and he will praise:

You know how well, - and he pronounces an "o", like all our carpenters, and from this, perhaps, it makes me calmer, - I suppose they will take you to the school, you know everything. But tomorrow we have Apple Savior ... you know how about him? So-ak. Why are apples sprinkled? That's not how you know. They will question you, but you won't tell. And how many Spas do we have? Here and again you can’t do it well. They teach you to ask questions, and you ... How come you don't say so? You must have a good look.

But there is nothing ... - I say, completely upset, - it is only written that apples are sacred!
- And sprinkle. Why do they sprinkle it? Ah! They will question you - well, how many, they will say, do we have Spasov? And you don't know. Three Spas. The First Savior - he bends his finger, yellow from polish, terribly flattened, - the honey Savior, the Cross is carried out. This means that the summer is over, the honey can be broken out, the bee is not offended ... The Second Savior, tomorrow which is, - an apple, Savior-Transfiguration, apples are sprinkled. And why? And here. Adam-Eve sinned, the serpent deceived them with an apple, but it was not ordered, because of sin! And Christ ascended the mountain and sanctified. From that they began to beware. And whoever eats before sprinkling will have a worm in his stomach, and cholera happens. And as it is sprinkled, it is harmless. And the third Savior is called nut, the nuts ripened after the Assumption. We have a procession in the village, they carry the icon of the Savior, and they gnaw all the nuts. We used to pick up a sack of nuts for Father, and he gave us milk noodles - for razgovin. So tell them, and they will take them to the school.
Transfiguration of the Lord ... Affectionate, quiet light from him in the soul - until now. It must be from the morning garden, from the light blue sky, from heaps of straw, from the apples of a pear buried in the greenery, in which individual leaves are already turning yellow - green-golden, soft. Clear, bluish day, not hot, August. The sunflowers have already outgrown the fences and are looking out into the street - is there really a procession with the cross? Soon their hats will be cut off and carried to the singing on golden banners. The first apple, a pear tree in our garden, ripened, turned red. Shake her for tomorrow. Gorkin also said in the morning:
- After lunch we'll go to the Swamp with you for apples.
Such a joy. Father - the headman of Kazanskaya, has already ordered:
- Here's what, Gorkin ... You will take five or six apples in the Swamp near Krapivkin, for the parishioners and our children, "whitewash", or something ... yes, observant, for the consecration, beautify, measure. There are two more measures for the clergy, cleaner than any. We will especially send the protodeacon a measure of aport ones, he loves the bigger ones.
- Ondrei Maksimych fellow countryman will give me conscience. He is being driven from both Kursk and the Volga. And what do you order for yourself?
- It's me. Choose a watermelon for the neckline, Astrakhan, sugar.
- Orbuz he has ... sugary always, with a crack. He sends to Prince Dolgorukov himself! He has a gold diploma in his lobby hanging on the wall under the image, like eagles! .. Thunders all over Moscow.
Shake the pear after lunch. For the owner - Gorkin. The clerk Vasil-Vasilich, even though he has construction sites, he chooses for half an hour - he will come running. Out of respect, only the old shopkeeper Trifonych is allowed in. The carpenters are not allowed, but they climb onto the boards and advise how to shake. The garden is unusually light, golden: the summer is dry, the trees have thinned and dried up, there are many sunflowers on the fence, grasshoppers are cracking sourly, and it seems that light comes from this cod too - golden, hot. The overgrown nettles and burdocks are still thickening juicy, and only under them is gloomy; and the ripped currant bushes shine from the light. Apple trees also shine - with the gloss of branches and leaves, a matte gloss of apples, and cherries, completely transparent, filled with amber glue. Gorkin leads to the pear tree, throws off his cap, waistcoat, spits on his fist.

Angelica Apple Savior

Wait, wait ... - he says, eyeing. - I shake her lightly, in the first grade. She has a weak apple ... well, we'll knock it down a little - it's okay, it'll go better with juice ... but don't use force!
It adjusts and shakes, with a gentle shake. The first grade is falling. Everyone throws themselves into burdocks, into nettles. A viscous, sluggish smell from burdocks, and a piercingly pungent smell from nettles, mingle with a sweet spirit, unusually subtle, like spilled perfume somewhere, from apples. Everyone is crawling, even the overweight Vasil-Vasilich, whose waistcoat has burst on his back, and you can see a pink shirt like a boat; even the fat Trifonich, all in flour. Everyone takes a handful and sniffs: ahh ... pear tree! ..
You close your eyes and breathe in - such a joy! Such freshness, pouring in subtly, subtly, such fragrant sweetness, strength - with all the smells of a warmed garden, jammed grass, disturbed warm black currant bushes. The sun is already cold and the tender blue sky, shining in the branches, on apples ...
And now, not in your native country, when you meet an invisible apple that smells like a pear tree, you squeeze your eyes shut in your palms, and in a sweet and juicy spirit you will remember like a living one - a small garden that once seemed huge, the best of all gardens , whatever in the world, now disappeared without a trace ... with birches and mountain ash, with apple trees, with bushes of raspberries, black, white and red currants, grape gooseberries, with lush burdocks and nettles, a distant garden ... - to the bent nails of the fence, to a crack in a cherry with streaks of mica sheen, with drops of amber-raspberry glue - everything, to the last apple of the top behind a gold leaf, burning like a golden glass! dry ruts, with soiled bricks, with planks stuck to the rains, with a support stuck forever ... and gray sheds, with a silk gloss of time, with the smells of tar and tar, and a mountain of pot-bellied bundles raised to the barn roof, with oats and salt, caked into stone with tenacious shanks, with trickles of golden sheep ... and tall stacks of boards, weeping tar in the sun, and crackling packs of shredding, and chunks, and shavings ...
- Yes, let it go, Pankratych! .. - Vasil-Vasilich rubs his shoulder, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, - by God, you need to go to the construction site! ..
- Yes, wait, the head is spruce ... - Gorkin does not start up, - you will beat, with a fool, apples ...
Vasil-Vasilich also shakes up: it’s like a storm is coming, making a noise with a whistle - and apples are raining down on his head, on his shoulders. Carpenters shout on the boards: "this is tryakhanu-st, Vasil-Vasilich!" Trifonych is shaking, and again Gorkin, and again Vasil-Vasilich, who has been called for a long time. I also shake, raised to empty branches.
- Eh, it used to be, we were shaking ... you will get wet! - Vasil-Vasilich sighs, buttoning his waistcoat on the move, - yes I'm coming, damn you! ..
- Scribbles more, a spruce head ... in such a case ... - says Gorkin sternly. - En is buried elsewhere! .. - he looks around the top of his head. - Yes, you will not shake it ... it will go to the sparrows, the last ones.
We are sitting in the crushed grass; smells last summer, dry bitterness, apple fresh spirit; cobwebs glisten on nettles, pour and tremble on apple trees. It seems to me that they are trembling from the dry crackle of grasshoppers.
- Autumn songs! .. - says Gorkin sadly. - Farewell Summer. The Spas have come - get your supplies ready. We used to have swallows on departure ... We should definitely go home to the Pokrov ... but why there, there is no one.
As much as I have said, and will never go: I'm used to the place.
- In Pavlov we have apples ... a penny is a measure! - says Trifonych. - And what an apple ... pa-vlovskoe!
Three measures have been collected. They are carried on a pole in a basket, threaded through the ears. The carpenters beg, the boys beg, jumping on one leg:

Curve-crooked handle,
Who will give is the prince
Who will not give - that dog's eye.
Dog's eye! Dog's eye!

Chalov Mikhail. Apple Savior

Gorkin waves it off, kicks:
- Little ones, or something ... Come tomorrow to Kazanskaya - ladies and a couple.
Harnessed to the shelves Curve. They hold her out of respect, but she will drag her to the Swamp. Shakes up to the guts in the pits, and it's such a pleasure! With us are huge baskets, one inside the other. We drive past Kazanskaya, we are baptized. We drove along the deserted Yakimanka, past the pink church of Ivan the Warrior, past the Savior in Nalivki, which is visible in the alley, past the Maron, turning yellow in the lowlands, past Grigory Neokessariysky, who is blushing far beyond the Polyansky Market. And we are baptized everywhere. The street is very long, boring, no shops, hot. The wipers at the gate doze with their legs outstretched. And everything is asleep: white houses in the sun, dusty green trees, behind fences with nails, gray rows of bedside tables, similar to blue buckwheat, brown lanterns, trudging cabs. The sky is kind of dusty, - "from the steam", - yawning, says Gorkin. We come across a fat merchant in a cab, in the entire cab, with a basket of apples at his feet. Gorkin bows to him respectfully.
- Headman Loshchenov from Shabolovka, butcher. Greedy, three measures in total. And you and I will buy more than ten, for the whole five.
Here is the Ditch, with stagnant rainbow water. Behind it, over low roofs and gardens, the great golden dome of Christ the Savior burns in the sun. And here is the Swamp, along the lowland, - a great marketplace, stone "rows", arcs. Here they sell scrap iron, rusty anchors and chains, ropes, matting, oats and salt, dried smelt, pike perch, apples ... A sweet and pungent spirit can be heard far away, golden straws everywhere. There are matting, green mounds of watermelons on the ground, and multicolored heaps of apples on the straw. Doves dove in flocks. Everywhere you look - matting and straw.
- Bolshoy nonche delivery, harvest for apples, - says Gorkin, - Moscow will eat apples.
We drive through the storage sheds, in an apple sweet spirit. The good fellows rip up the bales of straw, the dust gilts over them. Here is Krapivkin's storage.
- Gorkin-Pankratich! - Tugging at his cap Krapivkin, with a gray beard, wide. - And I thought - our goat was gone, and he is there, a gray beard!
Shake hands. Krapivkin is drinking tea on a box. Copper greenish teapot, thick faceted glass. Gorkin refuses politely: we just drank, even though we didn’t. Krapivkin is not inferior: "stick to stick is bad, but tea for tea is Yakimanskaya, swing it!" Gorkin sits down on another box, through the slits of which apples are peering in the straw. - "We drink seagulls with apple perfume!" - Krapivkin winks and gives me a big blue plum, cracked with ripeness. I suck it gently, and they sip silently, occasionally blowing a word out of the saucer along with the steam. They are also served a kettle, they drink for a long time and talk properly. They are calling unfamiliar names, and they are very interested in it. And I'm already sucking on the third plum and I'm looking around. Between the rows of watermelons on straw twisted flagella along the shelves, above the sloping boxes with selected peach, with burgundy cheeks under the dust, above the pink, white and blue plum, between which melons have sat down, hangs an old heavy image in a silver frame, a lamp burns. Apples all over the store, on straw. The viscous spirit is even stifling. And horse heads are looking at the back door of the warehouse - they brought boxes from the car. Finally they get up from tea and go to the apples. Krapivkin indicates the varieties: here is a white filling, - "if you look at the sun like a flashlight!" - here is pineapple-royal, red, like kumach, here is aniseed monastic, here is titovka, arcades, boletus, hijab, brown, waxy, linen, sweet size, bitter.
- Observers? .. - You need to show yourself ... - Krapivkin wonders. - The owner needs to please?
- Yes, you tell me, Ondrei Maksimych, - Gorkin says affectionately, - prettier than some ceremonial ones. Pavlovka, or something ... or this, that's how it is?
- This is not that, - Krapivkin laughs, - and it is, but you can't eat it! Hey, open up, from Kursk, which, for the journey are tired, will be very good ...
- But, it seems more a little more affectionate, - Gorkin fumbles in the straw, - there is no support? ..
- A higher grade than a support is called a camport!
- Pour the measure. Archireyskoe, right ... just for sprinkling.
- You have a peephole! .. They took us to Ouspensky. We deliver to the Archpriest, Cathedral Father Valentin, Anfi-Teyatrova! He speaks famous sermons, I suppose you heard?
- How not to hear ... the golden word!

Marina Razina

Gorkin is collecting leucorrhoea and placers for the people, eight measures. Takes both the parable of the Titovka, and the aporta for the protodeacon, and the sugar watermelon, "which are nowhere to be found." And I breathe and breathe this sweet and sticky spirit. It seems to me that the bales of bales with crooked signs smeared with tar, new spruce crates, heaps of straw smell of fields and villages, cars, sleepers, distant gardens. I also see the joyful "Chinese" ones, their cheeks and tails made of lye, I remember their bitterness and sweetness, their juicy crackling, and I feel how sour in my mouth. We leave Krivaya at the storage and walk for a long time in the apple market. Gorkin, putting his hands under the Kazakin, walks around as the owner, shakes his beard. He will take an apple, smell it, hold it, although we don't need it anymore.
- Pavlovka, eh? too small? ..
- She herself, a merchant. Ours is not the largest. Three dimes are half a measure.
- Well, what are you talking to me, the words head, sharpening pains! .. What am I, not Yaroslavl, or what? We have such a dime on the Volga.
- From our Volga versts to-lie! I myself am from under Kineshma.
And they start talking, they call unfamiliar names, and they are very interested. The dodgy guy picks out the heels that are good and puts them in Gorkin's pockets, and gives me the largest stick on his toes. Gorkin buys a measure from him too.
It's time to go home, soon for the all-night vigil. The sun is already squinting. In the distance, the dome of Ivan the Great, darkly protruding over the roofs, is gilding gold. The windows of the houses shine unbearably, and from this shine, it seems, golden rivers flow, melt here, on the square, in the straw. Everything shines intolerably, and apples play in the shine.

"Apple saved in Little Russia", (earlier 1921), - Omsk Regional Museum of Fine Arts named after M. A. Vrubel

We drive lightly, with apples. I look at the apples, how they shake from shaking. I look at the sky: it is so calm, I would have flown into it.
Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord. Golden and blue morning, in the chill. In church - not to be crowded. I'm standing in a candle box fence. Father clinks with silver and copper, gives and gives candles. They flow and flow from boxes with a broken white ribbon, tapping thinly-dryly, jumping over the shoulders, over their heads, going to the icons - they are transmitted - to the "Holiday!" Little knots float over their heads - all the apples, serums, apples. Our baskets on the pulpit will be "obkadetsya", - Gorkin told me. He fusses about in the church, his beard flickers. The stale hot air smells special these days - fresh apples. They are everywhere, even on the kliros, even on the banners. Unusually, fun - like guests, and the church is not a church at all. And everyone, it seems to me, only thinks about apples. And the Lord is here with everyone, and He also thinks about apples: It was to Him that they brought them - look, Lord, what they are! And He will look and say to everyone: "Well, well, and eat to your health, children!" And they will eat completely different, not purchased, but church apples, saints. This is the Transfiguration.
Gorkin comes and says: "Come on, now the sprinkling will begin." In his hands is a red bundle - "his". Father keeps counting money, and we go. They set the eve table. A golden-blue deacon carries a huge plate of silver, red apples on it, a mountain that came from Kursk. There are baskets and bundles all around on the floor. Gorkin and the watchman are dragging familiar baskets from the pulpit, moving them "closer to the sprinkling." Everyone is fussing, merrily - not a church at all. Priests and a deacon in extraordinary vestments, which are called "apple" - this is how Gorkin tells me. Of course, apple! On the green and blue brocade, if you look closely from the side, large apples and pears and grapes are gilded in the leaves - green, gold, blue: it shimmers. When a sunbeam hits the chase from the dome, apples and pears come to life and become lush, as if they were hung. The priests bless the water. Then the elder, in a purple kamilavka, reads a prayer for fruits and grapes over our apples from Kursk - an extraordinary, cheerful prayer - and begins to sprinkle the apples. He shakes it with a brush so that splashes fly like silver, sparkle here and there, separately sprinkles the baskets for the parish, then bundles, baskets ... They go to the cross. The clerks and Gorkin shove an apple into everyone's hands and two, as needed. Father gives me a very beautiful dish, and the deacon I know deliberately, as if, three times slaps me on the head with a wet brush, and cold streams fall behind my collar. Everyone eats apples, such a crunch. Fun, like visiting. Singers even chew on the kliros. The carpenters are ours, the boys we know, and Gorkin shoves them through - come on quickly, don't get caught! They beg: "Give an apple something else, Gorkin ... Gave Mishka three! .." They also give the beggars on the porch. The people are thinning. The pressed stubs, "hearts" are visible in the church. Gorkin stands by the empty baskets and wipes his neck with a handkerchief. He crosses himself onto a ruddy apple, bites off with a crunch - and frowns:
- With kvass ... - he says, grimacing and squinting, and his beard shakes. - And it's nice, by the time, sprinkled ...
In the evening he finds me at the boards, on shavings. I am reading Sacred History.
“And I suppose you know everything now. They will ask you about the Savior, or there, how-why do they sprinkle an apple, and you whip it and whip it ... and they will let you into the school. Look here! ..

Ivanchenko N.A. Saved

He looks so calmly into my eyes, so light and golden-pink in the evening in the courtyard from shavings, matting and wood, so joyful for some reason that I grab an armful of shavings, throw it up, and golden, curly rain pours down ... And suddenly, it begins to tingle in me - from an incomprehensible joy, or from apples, without counting those eaten that day - begins to tingle with a tickling pain. A shiver runs through me, I start laughing uncontrollably, jumping, and with this laughter the desired beats in me - that they will let me into the school, they will certainly let me in!

***

Bible stories

"The morning was swirling with young August fogs ..." - this is how Yevgeny Nosov's story "The Apple Savior" begins. Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord. A divine service is held on this day. Therefore, “the bell ... boldly rang out, calling people. They pushed their way to the priest, unrolled string bags and bundles of apples in front of him. " The soul is quiet, calm, light and joyful. Apples drifted. So I wanted to buy "a cheerful invigorating product, at the mere sight of which the soul rejuvenates and rejoices." You eat the sacred apple - and God will give you the opportunity to change, transform, become better, save your soul.

Among the many merchants at the church porch, she attracted the attention of the author a small frail old woman, motionless and detached sitting next to a bucket of completely unsightly apples. Evdokia Lukyanovna Kuzina ... It was her that the writer chose, bypassing young, smart, cheerful women and bought an unenviable product from her. Painfully pierces every word of this granny, addressed to a casual buyer: "Give me a candle, so God save you on that ... Waking up ... The soul lives a little, it has its own food ... If you remember your mother, add it to the bread ...". These words contain the whole character of Baba Puli, her dignity, patience, sincerity, kindness. In order to get some money, she has to sell the boxes - the carrion, which is unlikely to buy, but hopes. Then the author will go to her house to buy more apples. And learns the story of her life. And life was very hard. Gradually, her fate is revealed before us, full of bitter trials and hardships.

E. I. NosovApple Spas: stories / Evgeny Nosov; [foreword V. Kurbatov; artist S. Eloyan]. - Irkutsk: Publisher Sapronov, 2006. - 540, p .: ill.

The main character of the story was a sniper during the war years. When the war began, she, an ordinary village girl, went to the front, became a sniper and fought on a par with men.
This is how she talks about the hard everyday life of a sniper and about the terrible wound that mutilated her ear:

“- This is me theirs sniper. I didn't hear. Ringing in my head ...

- And what were you looking out for?

And everything that moves. But more firing points, enbrasury ... A machine gun will fire - you immediately hit the flash ... Well, it's scary, but your hands are doing ... And the rest of the day in your head: hit - didn't hit? I got it, and that's it! Although she herself did not see. Rejoice in good luck, as happened, rejoice at the shooting range, but there is no joy. It's a dreary soul, somehow sticky. Eat - a piece fights, turns back from people ... Probably, a woman cannot be taught this. Her insides do not accept that something breaks off in her ... Someone, maybe later, will leave, but whose soul will remain a lump ... Some kind of beater permeates me all over. Shakes to the very heels, as if I were cold. I do not twist the makhorka with my own fingers, I smoke in the sleeve, until the stinging stops ...

You lie in a swamp, there is no breath from the mosquito. Itching under the German's nose, you won't brush it off, lie down, endure, otherwise they will spot you - they will shoot you. Or they'll throw mines ... When you come back from the secret, the muzzle is like a bull's bubble, poured, smeared with its own blood ...

- Do you have many medals?

- Yes, here is Simka - my main medal. And they seemed to be sent to others, but something did not reach. It all depends on the bosses: how are you connected with them, such your notches, such medals ... "

The simple, unpretentious plot of this story cannot be read without excitement. Baba Bullet, as she was called in the village, did not bring awards from the front, only her daughter Simka. And a loved one was killed by a direct bomb hit. Only one boot remained from him, which she keeps in the chest. “I'll get it when, cry, talk,” Baba Bullet confesses to the guest.

The amazing strength and resilience of this person is amazing. “What was, it was,” she will simply say. And in response to the question why she did not reach Germany, she shyly, as if apologizing, says: “I didn’t do it… I only got to Lithuania or Latvia. I only remember the town where they stood. Therefore, I am Lukyanovna, and the city is the Lukyans. That's why I remember it. "

Modesty, humility, patience are the main qualities of Evdokia Lukyanovna's character. It was hard for her to raise one daughter, but she courageously endures all the hardships of the post-war period ... The grown-up daughter left for the city, became an accountant. But her life was unsuccessful, she returned to her mother for help: she was wasted at work. So Evdokia Lukyanovna had to sell the house. And the sacrifice was in vain: Simov was judged equally, and he was killed in the camp. And again this glorious woman was not thinking about herself. So Lukyanovna was left alone, in a house without a roof, in a kitchenette that had escaped the fire, along with the same lonely and abandoned cat, no one needed, no one understood.

Nosov's story is an appeal to all of us: you cannot be indifferent, pass by misfortune, grief, people in need of help. You need to see this pain, because kind word you can warm a person.

Nosov Evgeny Ivanovich. 1925 - 2002

Evgeny Ivanovich Nosov - famous writer, participant of the Great Patriotic War... He is one of the most talented writers of our time, a humanist and romantic in character and attitude to life. All the work of E.I. Nosova is a big wise book that helps people to be kinder, more generous in soul. And at the heart of his work is his big life, about which he very restrained and briefly writes in his autobiography.

I was born on a cold January evening in 1925 in my grandfather's dimly lit hut. The village of Tolmachevo stretches along the Seim River, in the waters of which in the evenings the lights of the nearby city of Kursk were reflected, which rose high with its hills and cathedrals. Kursk has been famous since ancient times. "And my kurens are brave warriors," Vsevolod used to say to his brother Prince Igor in the epic poem "The Lay of Igor's Host" - nurtured under the helmets, nourished from the end of the spear. " Further along the Seim River there are the ancient fellow-cities Rylsk and Putivl. All of them are older than Moscow and were cut by Kievan Rus.

And from another village window I saw a spacious meadow flooded with floods in spring, and a mysterious forest behind it, and even more distant locomotive smoke behind the forest, always beckoning me to the road, which later turned out to be literature - the main path of my life.

With the exception of the October Revolution, the Civil War and the first post-war years of devastation, all the other stages of our history passed before my eyes. Childhood is always impressionable, and I still distinctly remember how collectivization raided in Tolmachevo, how the gatherings were noisy, the women neighbors who ran up to us were angry, and how the worried grandfather walked and walked around the yard, looked first into the barn, then into the stall to the horse , which he soon took to the common courtyard together with a cart and harness. At the turn of the thirties, my father and mother entered the Kursk Machine Repair Plant, and I became a city dweller. My father mastered the craft of a boiler-maker, riveted boilers and iron bridges of the first five-year plans, and my mother became a sit-breaker, and I already remember her without the village braid, cut short, in a red satin kerchief. You can read about this period of my life in the story “Don't have ten rubles ...”, as well as in the stories “The Bridge” and “The House Behind the Triumphal Arch”.

Life was difficult then, especially in 1932-1933, when cards were introduced in the country and we, working children, fed ourselves with roadside cakes, barely tied with apples, acacia flowers, vetch pods, which were dragged away from horses at the city bazaar. In 1932, I went to school, where we kids were fed thin kulesh and given a slice of coarse brown bread each. But in general, we were not particularly discouraged. As they got older, they ran to the library for "Tom Sawyer" and "Treasure Island", glued gliders and box snakes, argued and dreamed a lot.

And meanwhile, the second one gradually crept up World War... I was already in the fifth grade when I first saw the dark-skinned black-eyed children who arrived in our country from the fighting Republican Spain. In 1939, the war flared up in the very center of Europe, and in 1941 its fiery barrage fell upon our borders.

At the front I had a heavy share of the anti-tank artilleryman. This is a constant duel with tanks - who will win ... Either you missed him, or, if he missed, he - you ... At the end of the war, in East Prussia, the German "Ferdinand" still caught our gun in sight, and I spent six months in a hospital in a plaster shell.

By September 1945, the doctors had somehow mended me, and I returned to school to continue my interrupted studies. I went to classes in a tunic (there were no other clothes), with orders and medals. At first, I was mistaken for a new teacher, and the students respectfully greeted me - after all, I was older than many of them for a whole war.

After finishing school, I left for Kazakhstan, where, just as later in Kursk, I worked in a newspaper. Correspondent trips allowed me to accumulate extensive life impressions, which have unfailingly nourished and continue to nourish my writing inspiration to this day. Constant communication with nature also gives me a lot: I am an inveterate fisherman, a lover of spending the night by the fire, I know almost all Kursk herbs. In 1975 he was awarded the Gorky State Prize for the book "Shumit Meadow Fescue" recent years- Prize named after Sholokhov. My unchanging theme is still the life of a simple village man, his moral origins, attitude to the land, nature and to all modern life.

In August, there are three holidays in honor of the Savior, which are called the Savior. The first Savior is celebrated on August 14, popularly called "on the water", the second - on August 19, "on the mountain", and the third - on August 29, "on the canvas."

The Second Savior, celebrated on the day of the Transfiguration of the Lord, is popularly called the Apple Savior.

Why is the Second Savior called the Apple Savior

Apple Savior is the popular name for the feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord. Many folk rituals are timed to it. First of all, Apple Savior means the onset of autumn, the transformation of nature. Previously, before this holiday, it was not supposed to eat fruits, in general, no fruits, except for cucumbers. On August 19, they were illuminated in the church, after which all the fruits were allowed to be eaten. After the consecration, part of the fruits brought must be handed over to the parable, and the rest taken to the house, where they break their fast.

It is believed that if parents do not eat apples before the Second Savior, then in the next world gifts are given to their children, among which are the apples of paradise. And those children whose parents have tried apples are not given away. Therefore, many parents, especially those who have buried their children, consider it a sin to eat apples before this holiday. Mothers who have lost their children, in the morning on Apple Savior, bring several apples to the temple, bless them, and then carry them to the graves of their dead children. If the grave is far away, the lighted apple can be placed on any children's grave or left in the temple. Previously, often consecrated apples were carried to cemeteries to put all deceased relatives.

There is also a belief that apples become magical on the Transfiguration. After taking a bite, you can make a wish that will certainly come true.

From this day, the hot season begins in the orchards, apples are harvested for future use according to many recipes: they are dried, canned, and soaked. During the holiday, you also need to cook many dishes with apples, bake in the oven or oven with honey, and make pies. Spassov's apples were given to the poor and the sick.

On the same day, the mass consumption of peas begins, sometimes even a special "Peas Day" was arranged. The harvest of spring crops and the sowing of winter crops (rye) began with the Apple Savior and the holiday of the Transfiguration. The healers tried to prepare medicinal herbs until that day, the Hutsuls did not take fire out into the street, they did not lend fire to Transcarpathia that day.

Mass festivities and fairs were timed to coincide with the holiday.

By folk signs, after the Apple Savior the nights are getting colder. This holiday is also the meeting of autumn. "The Second Savior has come - take your mittens in reserve."

Other names of the holiday

The Second, Apple Savior has other popular names - for example, the Feast of the First Fruits, the Middle Savior, Savior on the Hill, Peas Day, First Autumn, Autumn, Second Meeting of Autumn, Transfiguration. The Russian Orthodox Church honors the Transfiguration of the Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ on this day.

Transfiguration of the Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ

The Gospels describe a mysterious transformation, the manifestation of the Divine majesty and glory of the Lord. It happened on the mountain in front of the three closest disciples of Jesus Christ during prayer. This event is reported by all evangelists except John.

The Orthodox celebration takes place on August 19, and if according to the Julian calendar, then on August 6. In the Catholic Church, it is also celebrated on August 6, or is postponed to the Sunday following this day. The Armenian Apostolic Church considers this holiday to be carried over from June 28 to August 1.

The traditional place of the Transfiguration of the Lord is a mountain in Galilee called Tabor. However, there is a version that the place of the Transfiguration was the spur of Mount Hermon, located in the vicinity of Caesarea Philippi.

The Gospels describe that Jesus went up with Peter, James and John on a mountain to pray, and during prayer he was transformed. His face shone like the sun, and His garments became white like light. And there appeared two prophets from the Old Testament, Elijah and Moses, and talked with the Savior about the Exodus. He forbade speaking to his disciples about what he had seen until the Son of Man was raised from the dead.

history of the holiday

The holiday has been celebrated in Palestine since the 4th century, from the time when the Transfiguration Temple was built by Empress Helena on Mount Tabor. In the East, mentions of the holiday date back to the 5th century.

The Gospel texts say that this event happened in February, 40 days before Easter, but the Orthodox Church postponed the celebration to August 6 (19) so that it would not fall on the days of Great Lent. And on the 40th day after the Transfiguration, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross is always held.

In France and Spain, the holiday has been celebrated since the 7th century, but in the Catholic Church it was established by Pope Calixt III in 1456.

In the Orthodox Church, the holiday belongs to the twelve great holidays, the liturgy is celebrated, the parimia is read, the canon is sung. Colour liturgical garments- White. The holiday falls on the Assumption Fast, which was previously almost equal to the Great.

In Russia, the Apple Savior was one of the most celebrated holidays. In the evening, the peasants watched the sun set, and when it touched the horizon, chants began.

In the southern regions, it was not apples that were consecrated and tasted, but the first grapes. Or all the fruits that are.

Rites and signs on Apple Savior

The Apple Savior is also called "the first autumn" - the meeting of autumn. In the evening, seeing off the sunset, we saw off the summer. "Apple has come to rescue - the summer has left us."

It is also believed to be a reminder of the need for spiritual transformation. On this day, at first, relatives, loved ones, orphans, the poor were treated to apples, they remembered the ancestors who had fallen asleep with eternal sleep - and only then they ate themselves.

Many signs and customs are associated with this holiday. In the old days, people considered them to be important for the health and well-being of the whole family. For example, the beggars were treated to the fruits collected from the garden - in order to gather an excellent harvest for the next year.

There is also a sign that if there is heat on the day of the Second Savior, then there will be little snow in January, and if it rains, then the winter will be snowy.

There is another interesting sign: if a fly sits on the hand twice on this holiday, then success awaits a person. On this holiday, you need to be patient even with flies and not drive them away, so as not to frighten off luck.

Apples

Even the cavemen ate apples, according to archaeologists. In ancient Rome, 23 varieties of apples were known, and thanks to the Roman soldiers, apples also came to Europe. Apple trees are now the most popular fruit trees in the world.

Apples can be used in a huge number of dishes, they even produce vodka with cider, not to mention jams, desserts, salads, compotes, pies, cakes, sauces. Ducks are baked with apples, meat is stewed.

According to physiological norms, a person should consume about 50 kilograms of apples per year, of which 40% are in the form of juices. Apples contain almost all the substances that the body needs: calcium, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, iron, vitamins C, E, PP, B1, B2, B6, folic acid, carotene. They are easy to digest and their combinations are optimal for people.

No wonder the British say: "An apple a day - and a doctor is not needed." Better yet, two or three apples. These amazing fruits will help keep your body in perfect health.

V Orthodox Church there is an amazing holiday, which is called in the folk way the apple spas. On this day, August 19, many people gather in the church with baskets full of apples. They are consecrated, immediately eaten and treated to each other. But it is only in Russia that this holiday has a double name. The main of them is the church one - the holiday of the Transfiguration, and the other, folk and unusually poetic, is the apple saved.

This holiday is one of the main (twelve) holidays of the Orthodox Church, which, according to legend, is dedicated to one of the episodes in the life of Jesus Christ.

One day, taking with him his disciples Peter, James and John, he climbed with them to the high mountain Tabor and began to pray. The disciples fell asleep from fatigue, but suddenly they were awakened by the strongest light, and they saw that the Savior's clothes became sparkling like snow, and his face also shone with a light that the human eye cannot withstand. Next to him were two prophets - Moses and Elijah, who told him how he would be killed and then resurrect. Suddenly a cloud appeared, covering everyone, and the same voice was heard from the cloud that was at Baptism. And this voice said: “This is my beloved son. Listen to him. "

After that, the cloud disappeared, and the disciples saw Jesus, who was already standing alone in his usual clothes. Together they began to descend from the mountain, and Jesus Christ asked his disciples not to tell anyone about what they saw and heard here.

The Transfiguration of Christ, as it is believed in Christian teaching, was intended to prove to his disciples the deity of Jesus Christ and strengthen their faith before the terrible days of his crucifixion and death come.

On this day, fruits are brought to the church and consecrated. This holiday is called the Apple Savior in Russia because it takes place on the same day as the old agricultural holiday, from which the harvesting of apples in orchards begins.

On this day Christ appeared

And he called the apostles.

The face of Christ has been transformed,

Like the sun shone.

It was on Tabor,

That rose among the plains

Soon, God's voice rang out:

"He is my beloved son!"

And he told two prophets

Jesus at the end of the road

What is under God's eye

There is still a way to go.

On the bright day of the Transfiguration

The holiday of the apple savior,

In a cool and autumn day

They make supplies in the villages.

And the people in the baskets

Carries apples to the church,

Consecrates all fruits

With drops of holy water.

Lesson objectives:

• teach students to analyze works in the unity of form and content
• develop research skills, the ability to conduct a dialogue, build reasoning, skillfully argue it
• develop literary knowledge of students
• to interest students in reading the works of E. Nosov
• to instill in children a sense of respect for the older generation, for the participants in the Great Patriotic War

Guys, today we have an unusual lesson. This is a lesson - research, the result of your many days of work. The topic of the lesson is “Courage to survive and remain human” (based on the story of E. Nosov “Apple Savior”)

(Slide number 1)

The final lesson. You have done a lot of preliminary work: all students read several stories by this writer, analyzed episodes in the unity of form and content, studied historical material.

Today you are going to show a philological analysis of the story "The Apple Savior". This is a very difficult job. The difficulty lies in the fact that the creative teams had to develop slides that clearly support your research. All students of the class took part in the work, but one representative of the creative group will report. The rest of the students at the end of the lesson will make a small review of the performance of their comrades.

II. A few words about the author. Student message (Slide number 2)

- To fulfill his main task, to convey the main idea to the reader, the author selects pictures, arranges the material in a certain sequence, that is, monitors his work. The composition directs the reader's perception and, as it were, offers him the keys to understanding the work.

- Let's consider the compositional construction of E. Nosov's story "The Apple Savior".

III. Student research work

Message from students of group 1 (Slide number 3)

At first glance, the story “Apple Savior” is based on the case when the narrator, driving through the village “Malye Ukhnali”, bought a bucket of apples on Spasov Day and met the main character Evdokia Lukyanovna. The story contains two more stories.

First story. A story about a ruined village and the fate of the heroine. The plot of the story is a destroyed bridge across the river. The development of the action is the fate of Lukyanovna: the arrival of Seraphima, the sale of the house, the fire, the death of her daughter. The denouement is the complete loneliness of the heroine.

Second story. Pula's past. In the part of the house, where there is nowhere to put your feet, everything is neatly tidied up, a war photograph is on the wall, which the hostess can no longer see. This is the beginning of the story. Kazan. Front. Wound. Equipping our armies and the Germans. The dramatic story of a female sniper. This is the development of action. The denouement is the complete loneliness of the heroine.

- The next stage of our lesson will be work on the portrait characteristics of the main character, since the portrait gives us the opportunity to imagine, see the person being depicted and serves as a means of the author's attitude towards him.

- What details of the heroine's appearance does the author pay attention to?

Message from students of group 2 (Slide number 4)

“... a little frail granny ... a gray rubberized raincoat. A tucked-in gray goat's handkerchief covered her face, leaving only the tip of a pointed nose and a hard, pumice-like gray chin visible. With all this dullness, angularity and aloof immobility, she reminded me of a swamp bird, a bittern, patiently waiting for its accidental meal. " House of state-owned type in a gray dressing gown has become not like a bittern, but like a gray bird. The "face crumpled by time" staggered with a "faint smile." "A crossbar, burdened with meditation, ran across her pitted forehead." "With a shudder, I saw the crimson crumples of my ear under the thrown back strand." The crimson color of the ear crumbs makes the narrator shudder. Isn't he the beginning of the gray, beggarly appearance of a woman?

Pay attention to the details on which the print is gray. Before us is a creature bled with life, which has lost its strength.

"Eyes are the mirror of the soul." But the soul cannot be expressed through the eyes, because these are only “reddish snaps filled with moisture”.

We cannot but pay attention to the heroine's hands. Palm trembling with teak. "Showed two crooked fingers." "Her right hand trembled finely, and she gently stroked it, as if bruised, with her left palm."

"She stopped, breathing fast, gasping for air with her open mouth." "Poskondybala to the other side." She spoke breathlessly. All these descriptions make the reader feel piercing pain for the person who has lost its natural shape.

- So, having examined the portrait of Evdokia Lukyanovna, we clearly presented the heroine, in this we were helped by the characteristic details of her appearance, the repetitions that the author uses, color adjectives. The author conveyed his sympathy for the heroine to the reader.

- Now, with the help of dialogues, we will try to reveal the character of Baba Puli, learn more about her life.

Message from students of group 3 (Slide number 5)

Dialogue is the most important artistic means of revealing the character of the heroine. It takes on a dynamic form of answers to the questions of the narrator, often turns into a monologue of the heroine that does not lose its sharpness over the years and lives in memory for a long time.

The daily military feat has not yet been realized by her - it is considered an ordinary and very insignificant thing. Lukyanovna speaks without any pathos about the hard days of the front, about the daily work of a sniper, about a terrible wound. Here are examples of the heroine's mean words:

- This is me theirs sniper. I didn't hear. Ringing in my head ...

- And what were you looking out for?

And everything that moves. But more firing points, enbrasura. I got it ... Happy luck would be happy ... Dreary in my soul, somehow sticky. Eat - a piece of your mouth does not fight, it turns back from people ... Probably, a woman cannot be taught this. Her insides do not accept that something breaks off in her ... Someone, maybe later, will leave, but whose soul will remain a lump ... Some kind of beater permeates me all over. Shakes to the very heels, as if I were cold. I do not twist the makhorka with my own fingers, I smoke in the sleeve, until the stinging stops.

You lie in a swamp, there is no breath from the mosquito. Itching under the German's nose, you won’t brush it off, lie down, endure, otherwise they’ll be spotted and shot. Or they'll throw them mines ... When you come back from the secret, the muzzle is like a bull's bubble, poured, smeared with its own blood ...

- Do you have many medals?

- Yes, here is Simka - my main medal. And they seemed to be sent to others, but something did not reach. It all depends on the bosses: how you are connected with them, such your notches, such medals.

So, a figurative peasant speech is pouring, conveying the limit of human tension in torment, suffering while fulfilling duty in the fight against an enemy who is superior in satiety and equipment.

Lukyanovna's heroism is not a one-time accomplishment of a bright and significant feat, but everyday self-sacrifice, heroism that she never realized ... “What was, it was,” she will simply say. This is probably her amazing strength, the strength of the Russian soul and the foundation of Victory. And the realization that the enemy was superior in strength gave rise to even greater courage of the resistance that was in this young girl.

When the narrator asked why she didn’t reach Germany, there is a rich monologue speech, shy, as if apologetic: “I didn’t do it… It’s just as far as Lithuania is reached, not that Latvia. I remember the town where they stood. Therefore, I am Lukyanovna, and the city is the Lukyans. Through that I remembered ”.

- In what did Evdokia Lukyanovna not "suck"? What prevented her?

Consider the actions of the main character. It is by them that a person is judged.

Message from students of group 4 (Slide number 6)

The first deliberate act to save the girl's honor. “It is difficult for a girl to survive the war. Everyone around you is rubbing. Duck and I were young, I also wanted to believe ... I waved it off, waved it off and chose a guard for myself, so that at least the others would not stick ... "

This forced, but choice of hers entailed another act, which she did not have time to realize - he brought her out of her normal physical condition: “I didn’t cope with it,” “my heart stumbled”.

Two soldiers and Sergeant Felix ask the German who is stuck in the middle of the swamp to “get it” from the rifle. She looks at him through binoculars. “I look: I’m all covered with duckweed, it must have been bullets. At first it seemed like mud on my head, and these are green bandages. A dirty rag covered one eye, the other stared at me expectantly ... It was such a terrible sight from the depths of the skull! And what can I give him besides bullets! He moves his lips ... And his lips are flush with the water, and he cannot speak, but only bubbles hatch. ... And then I was worn out. Apparently my edge has approached; that's how I shot these skulls! I threw down the binoculars, clamped my mouth and rushed into the bushes ... What happened - I don't remember anything. Her speech is very emotional, as if she is talking about events that have just passed. The vocabulary characterizes the emotional shock, could not withstand the "terrible look" of a dying person who was already doomed to death. Her emotional speech testifies to the fact that the echo of the war still resounds in her soul with unceasing pain.

Her guard was blown up by a bomb, and the sniper, already a widow and a future mother, is sent to her native village for self-survival.

– That's all that Evdokia Lukyanovna received in return for a scorched soul and a broken fate.

Lukyanovna is a child of the 20th century, a century of bloody cataclysms, where human life has lost its value. Ideological epochs were changing, wars of destruction were fought in bloody battles. The village, destroyed by violent collectivization, was finally finished off by the war and the post-war experiments of power over it.

- So what awaited the heroine of the story at home, in her native village?

Message from students of group 5 (Slide number 7)

The village of Malye Ukhnali is also in ruin. The echo of tragic changes and the war changed its former appearance and inner content. The village is as thrown by the authorities into self-survival as Lukyanovna. About that and her story, how the house burned down, because the fire engine went by a detour, because instead of a bridge across the river they hung a "cradle", on which it is dangerous to walk.

The veteran has no hope for the future. The house cannot be repaired: there is no “capital”, “a pension with a gulkin's sock,” the authorities cannot help, because “there is no power in Ukhnaly”. Broken from her youth, she with great patience and meekness endures new and new blows of fate, out of kindness and necessity, depriving her of her parental heritage: at home, apple trees, which were used for firewood. "... And no coal, no firewood ... Promised, promised ..."

She failed to become a cook, get an education. She became disabled, early old age and bitter loneliness came to her. There was no romance in love either.

(Slide number 8)

Lukyanovna's hard roads of war are associated with pictures of nature, bringing fear, misfortune, and death. This is how she recalls these strange places: “The places there are deaf, deserted swamps. Peat water, in bubbles, everything gurgles, chomps, sighs. On hummocks, kuroslepes are human-sized, reeds are on a par with alders, gray moss hangs on trunks with beards. The tree is strangling ... There is nowhere to step ”. Around the crows croaking. Corpses floated up. Stink. The stench from the soul turns back.

Surprisingly keen observation, sniper. Everything mysterious and alive, threatening rises before his gaze. All verbs are used in the present tense. Forms and sounds are ominous, the stinking smell seems to capture her imagination even now, the horror does not let go even after the remoteness of the years. Lonely routes, completing tasks, she makes every day in an embrace with death. Such a baggage of memory could not bring her joy. Like her whole unsettled life

EI Nosov created the image of a young Dusya, faithful to military duty, accomplishing her daily feat in hunger, in the mud, in the blood.

- We see how her soul gets used to everything that was laid down by the time of the XX century. Patiently and without malice, "her soul lives on the little ones." But this “bird” this “shot” carries in itself a feeling of how the soul “breaks off”, how it remains “a lump”. Blinded, deaf, turned into a “cloak on crooked stilts”, bereft of a name, and without a name there is no person.

- Consider how Lukyanovna's speech reflects the history of her life.

Message from group 7 students (Slide number 9)

The narration is conducted on behalf of the narrator - the author and his heroine Baba Puli, Lukyanovna.

Baba Puli's speech reflects the colloquial folk element of different eras: pre-revolutionary - Russian, military, Soviet. She comes from old Russia, therefore in the corner of her "chamber", "behind the icon lamp, there is a dark icon of the Smolensk Hodegetria." Orthodox culture has left its mark on speech. "Give for a candle, and on that - God save you." “Lord Jesus…” she crossed herself. “The soul lives a little. She has her own food. ” "I'll wash thee, dove." Her speech is full of metaphors, comparisons of peasant life, which organically live in her: "Well, duck are completely green russula." "It's the birds chirping in my head"

In each of her short phrases there is a figurative picture, the word is filled with deep content. The war era was also reflected in her speech. The vocabulary of war entered circulation. But the soul is not accepted. The distortion of words evokes sympathy for her. In this position, and the new words of the era: "enbrazury", "strument", "hvershal", "bulgakter".

This is not her element, in the new time she is a stranger, lonely, forgotten, deprived of communication with people.

Old Russian words sound in her speech, colloquial, vernacular, dialectal, corresponding to her way of thinking and her environment. "But there was a bridge here, but they plundered the whole thing." “It just came to Lithuania”.

Such a mixture of lexical layers reflects the history of Lukyanovna's life and the local flavor of the population, his speech.

(Slide number 10)

- The narration is conducted not only on behalf of Baba Puli, but also on behalf of the author. He appears before the reader by the way he relates to his heroine, to the past and present, to nature and man. His vision is special, from the height of insight, he fixes everything with an all-seeing eye. His choice of the "grayest granny" with the most ordinary-looking apples is nothing more than an epiphany and mercy to the "little man".

Message from students of group 8 (Slide number 11, 1 part)

The author in Malye Ukhnaly is not a casual traveler. He knows the past of the village, where until 1917 they traded in “horseshoe craft”. Later, the authorities turned the village temple into a dump of “paper bags with chemicals, chalk and slaked lime”, “the temple is headless, with birches on the cornice, all in cement shaving brushes and plasters”. The destruction of Orthodox culture, like the desecration of the Temple, caused unquenchable pain in the author's soul for many years.

But now the narrator is in an ecstatic mood. It is conveyed to the reader through the landscape:

“The morning swirled with young August fogs, still light, not hanging on the bushes and grasses, but muslin soaring over the huts and fresh haystacks, filling the rest of the heavenly space, already seduced by the invisible sun, which made it seem as if the chimes of some great celebration themselves on their own were born in the hazy mystery of a fine day rising. Under this gospel, now distant, now muffled by fog, now clear, with all the details of jubilant echoes, it was new, unusually joyful for me to drive around in my old "Niva".

“From the gardens, already ripe, burdened with fruits, you will suddenly smell with waves of warm apple wind, you will irresistibly inhale this heady aroma accumulated during the night with an admixture of oregano, wormwood and something else exciting and dear, pull in yourself with all the eagerness, as far as the buttons will allow on a shirt ”. (The student reads the passage by heart against the background of music)

This is the rebirth of the morning, the rebirth of Christ's faith, the rebirth of the author's soul. This natural August transformation of everything: from grasses - hay, from chicks - rook, from foals - herds, from flowers - apples - was harmony, the result of eternal achievements of nature and man.

"It was a sin not to guess that in Malye Ukhnaly, as in all of Holy Russia, the Apple Savior began."

The divine service in the Temple showed general harmony with the Savior in Small Uhnaly. These are the first steps in the revival of Christ's church.

All this is reflected in the hero's soul with joy, a mysterious feeling of renewal.

- In connection with what has changed his psychological state?

Message from students of group 9 (Slide number 11, part 2)

“In anticipation of the coming autumn, the orange claws were scanty, tiredly blooming, already beginning to wither and crumble with faded seeds. Between the claws rose several maple twigs, planted by Lukyanovna, if only to somehow hide the ugliness of her dwelling. "

Her story about everyday life at the front led him into confusion: "I was confused by this turn of our conversation." His psychological state becomes clearly dramatic. The overgrown path to the "chamber" of the heroine expels the author's inner delight altogether, and brings an aching melancholy to the reader as well. “I walked downstairs and looked around: something did not give, interfered with the smooth running” ...

Obviously, this is not only a feeling of compassion, but also the bitterness of one's own powerlessness.

So, the narrator experiences two completely opposite feelings. First - joy, jubilant delight to the feeling of youth, then - sympathy, embarrassment, powerlessness.

- Read the description of the flight of a gentle butterfly that captivated the author on the way to the heroine's house. What is the meaning of this artistic image? (Slide number 12)

Sample answers from students. Teacher supplement.

"Above the dark coffee water, a lemon-yellow butterfly flashed briskly, flying from where and where and involuntarily making you worry that it would not reach with its timid and inept flight or that a large-mouthed chub hiding under the vines was about to grab it."

On the way back, she seemed to be waiting for him. “Again flashed a bright yellow butterfly - probably a different one, but it seemed to me that she was still the morning one that had lost something in the willow rivers ...

Or is she herself someone's lost soul? .. "

This butterfly resembles Lukyanovna's life, which endures constant suffering. Through suffering, her soul is purified.

EI Nosov created the image of a woman who preserved the moral values ​​of Orthodoxy. Modesty, humility, patience are the main qualities of her character.

Lukyanovna is among the disunited people who have lost Christ's mercy. But she managed to courageously endure all the suffering, managed to survive and remain human.

- What is the main idea of ​​the story?

- Why is the story called "Apple Savior"?

(Slide number 13)

The author believes in the transformation of Holy Russia, because the moral values ​​of Orthodoxy are already being revived, the Faith of Christ is being revived, and the country's economy is being restored. And if Russia is reborn, the people inhabiting it will be reborn as well.

I would like to finish the main part of the lesson with the words from the Gospel: “Yes, love one another as I have loved you. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples. ”