The natural beauty of our country is extraordinary. The widest full-flowing rivers, emerald forests, bright blue skies. What a truly rich choice for Russian artists! But how does the beauty of nature affect us? What mark does it leave on a person’s soul? K. G. Paustovsky reveals these questions in his text.
In the text proposed for analysis, K.G.
Paustovsky poses the problem of the influence of the beauty of nature on humans. Revealing it, the author reflects on how nature instills in us a feeling of love for the Motherland. He draws attention to the fact that, having seen only
Since the vastness of our country, the heart submits to it forever. “I leaned out the window, and suddenly my breath caught,” writes Konstantin Georgievich. The beauty of nature aroused his delight and admiration. Arriving in Moscow, he decided to visit Tretyakov Gallery. Levitan's painting “ Golden autumn“struck him so much that he couldn’t even believe that such beauty actually existed.
K. G. Paustovsky believes that the beauty of nature awakens in us a feeling of love for the Motherland, attachment to it.
places where a person could not find something that will forever remember his heart.
The problem of the influence of natural beauty is often raised in literature. As an example, we can take A.P. Chekhov’s story “The Steppe”. Yegorushka was struck by the beauty and grandeur of the steppe so much that he began to give it human traits. It seemed to him that the steppe space was capable of suffering, and rejoicing, and yearning.
Poets pay great attention to the beauty of nature in their works. R. Ivnev, in the poem “Alone with Nature,” reflects on how nature influences humans. He says that alone with nature, people begin to think anew. Open and clean. and for no amount of money he will not leave that quiet corner where a person becomes himself.
The beauty of our nature is enchanting. But while we admire her, we must not forget that this beauty can disappear from the harmful effects on environment. And then our descendants will be able to see the charm of nature only in the paintings of artists of past centuries.
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Essay in Unified State Exam format
(the problem of the influence of nature on humans)
(text by Gabriel Troepolsky).
Teacher of Russian language and literature MBOU "Salbinskaya Secondary School"
Lazareva M. V.
A lot of poems, songs, and stories have been written about nature, in which the authors express admiration for the beauty of forests, fields, rivers, and lakes. Let us remember Bunin, Pushkin, Lermontov, Bazhov, Fet, Tyutchev, Green, Troepolsky, Astafiev... Each of them has their own unique world of nature.
The text by K. G. Paustovsky describes one of the secluded corners of our Motherland, a place between the forests and the Oka, which is “called Prorva.” Here the meadows “look like the sea”, “the grasses stand like an impenetrable elastic wall”, the air is “thick, cool and healing”. The midnight cry of the corncrakes, the trembling of the foliage of the sedge - all this causes a healing effect on the writer’s soul: “Together with the fragrant, free, refreshing air, you will breathe into yourself serenity of thought, meekness of feeling, condescension towards others and even towards yourself.”
I think each of us has experienced something similar in our lives, so it’s hard not to agree that nature can change our inner world, make people kinder, better.
We can say with confidence that the problem of the influence of nature on humans will remain relevant at all times. In a poem outstanding poet 19th century M. Yu. Lermontov we read:
When the yellowing field is agitated,
And the fresh forest rustles with the sound of the breeze...
Then the anxiety of my soul is humbled,
Then the wrinkles on the forehead disperse, -
And I can comprehend happiness on earth,
And in the sky I see God.
This describes the amazing property of nature - to bring harmony into life, to give the opportunity to forget worries and worries, to give strength to live on.
A. S. Pushkin also truly admires this magical world nature. For example, in one of the poems (“Autumn”) we have a beautiful image of fading nature:
It's a sad time! Ouch charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I loveIlushnaturewithering,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold...
It is impossible to take your eyes off the magnificent landscape. This picture is full of colors, it makes you happy, but at the same time it becomes a little sad, because winter is coming soon...
Of course, you can describe nature in different ways, but in one thing all these descriptions will be similar: nature cannot leave anyone indifferent, because it is a world of enchantment.
(293 words)
PAUSTOVSKY - MESHCHERSKAYA SIDE -
MEADOWS
Between the forests and the Oka River stretch a wide belt of water meadows.
At dusk, the meadows look like the sea. As if on the sea, the sun sets on the grass, and signal lights burn like beacons on the banks of the Oka. Just as in the sea, fresh winds blow over the meadows, and the high sky has overturned into a pale green bowl.
In the meadows the old riverbed of the Oka stretches for many kilometers. His name is Prorva.
This is a dead, deep and still river with steep banks. The banks are overgrown with tall, old, three-girth sedges, hundred-year-old willows, rose hips, umbrella grasses and blackberries.
We called one reach on this river “Fantastic Prorva”, because nowhere and none of us have seen such huge, twice the height of a man, burdocks, blue thorns, such tall lungwort and horse sorrel and such gigantic puffball mushrooms as on this Ples.
The density of the grass in other places on Prorva is such that it is impossible to land on the shore from a boat - the grass stands like an impenetrable elastic wall. They push people away. The grasses are intertwined with treacherous blackberry loops and hundreds of dangerous and sharp snares.
There is often a slight haze over Prorva. Its color changes depending on the time of day. In the morning there is a blue fog, in the afternoon there is a whitish haze, and only at dusk the air over Prorva becomes transparent, like spring water. The foliage of the sedges barely trembles, pink from the sunset, and the Prorvina pikes beat loudly in the pools.
In the mornings, when you can’t walk ten steps on the grass without getting completely wet from the dew, the air on Prorva smells of bitter willow bark, grassy freshness, and sedge. It is thick, cool and healing.
Every autumn I spend many days in a tent on Prorva. To get a vague idea of what Prorva is, you should describe at least one Prorva day. I come to Prorva by boat. I have with me a tent, an axe, a lantern, a backpack with food, a sapper's shovel, some dishes, tobacco, matches and fishing equipment: fishing rods, donks, saddles, girders and, most importantly, a jar of underleaf worms. I collect them in the old garden under heaps of fallen leaves.
On Prorva I already have my favorite places, always very remote. One of them is sharp turn river, where it spills into a small lake with very high banks overgrown with vines.
There I pitch a tent. But first of all, I haul hay. Yes, I confess, I drag hay from the nearest stack, I drag it very deftly, so that even the most experienced eye of an old collective farmer will not notice any flaw in the stack. I put the hay under the canvas floor of the tent. Then when I leave, I take it back.
The tent must be stretched so that it hums like a drum. Then you need to dig it in so that when it rains, water flows into the ditches on the sides of the tent and does not wet the floor.
The tent is set up. It is warm and dry. The bat lantern hangs on a hook. In the evening I light it and even read it in the tent, but I usually don’t read for long - there is too much interference on Prorva: either a crake will start screaming behind a nearby bush, then a pound of fish will strike with a cannon roar, or a deafening shot will be fired in the fire willow twig and sparks scatter, then a crimson glow will begin to flare up over the thickets and the gloomy moon will rise over the expanses of the evening earth. And immediately the corncrakes will subside and the bittern will stop buzzing in the swamps - the moon rises in wary silence. She appears as the owner of these dark waters, hundred-year-old willows, mysterious long nights.
Tents of black willows hang overhead. Looking at them, you begin to understand the meaning of old words. Obviously, such tents in former times were called “canopy”. Under the shade of willows...
And for some reason on such nights you call the constellation Orion Stozhary, and the word “midnight”, which in the city sounds, perhaps, like literary concept, takes on real meaning here. This darkness under the willows, and the shine of the September stars, and the bitterness of the air, and the distant fire in the meadows, where the boys guard the horses driven into the night - all this is midnight. Somewhere far away, a watchman is chiming the clock on a village bell tower. He hits for a long time, measuredly - twelve blows. Then again dark silence. Only occasionally on the Oka will a tugboat scream in a sleepy voice.
The night drags on slowly; there seems to be no end to it. The sleep in the tent on autumn nights is sound and fresh, despite the fact that you wake up every two hours and go out to look at the sky - to find out if Sirius has risen, if the streak of dawn is visible in the east.
The night is getting colder with each passing hour. By dawn the air is already burning your face light frost, the tent flaps, covered with a thick layer of crisp frost, sag a little, and the grass turns gray from the first matinee.
It's time to get up. In the east, the dawn is already filling with a quiet light, the huge outlines of willows are already visible in the sky, the stars are already dimming. I go down to the river and wash myself from the boat. The water is warm, it even seems slightly heated.
The sun is rising. The frost is melting. The coastal sands become dark with dew.
I boil strong tea in a smoky tin kettle. Hard soot is similar to enamel. Willow leaves, burnt in the fire, float in the kettle.
I've been fishing all morning. From the boat I check the spans that have been placed across the river since the evening. Empty hooks come first - the ruffs have eaten all the bait on them. But then the cord stretches, cuts the water, and a living silver shine appears in the depths - it’s a flat bream walking on a hook. Behind it you can see a fat and stubborn perch, then a small bee with piercing yellow eyes. The pulled out fish seems icy.
Aksakov’s words entirely refer to these days spent on Prorva:
“On a green, flowering bank, above the dark depths of a river or lake, in the shade of bushes, under the tent of a gigantic sedge or curly alder, quietly fluttering its leaves in the bright mirror of the water, imaginary passions will subside, imaginary storms will subside, selfish dreams will crumble, unrealizable hopes will scatter. Nature will enter into its eternal rights. Together with the fragrant, free, refreshing air, you will breathe into yourself serenity of thought, meekness of feeling, condescension towards others and even towards yourself.”
Osokor - poplar
Paustovsky K.G. Meshcherskaya side
In the text presented for analysis, Boris Ekimov raises a topical problem for many of the influence of the beauty of nature on humans.
Nature is the most beautiful thing on Earth. Her beauty can work wonders. When the narrator sees a painting given to him by an artist friend, he involuntarily remembers one bad weather day. Then the hero suddenly found a willow bush while walking through the forest. The author describes how golden sunlight becomes clearly visible: “The willow bush in the stormy cloudy day meekly shone with a warm lamp light. He shone, warming the earth and the air and the chilly day around him.” It becomes clear to readers that the memory of that cloudy, but bright and memorable day will warm the narrator’s soul all his life, because the willow bush was like a light that brightened the path: “There are many of them on our way, good signs, warm days and minutes that help us live , sometimes pushing apart the twilight, thorny days.”
In Russian literature, the theme of nature is often heard, as is the problem of its influence on people. Thus, in Goncharov’s novel “Oblomov,” in the chapter about the protagonist’s childhood, the author describes a measured, leisurely life in Oblomovka. The ideal of tranquility there was nature: endless blue sky, forests, lakes. People lived in harmony with nature, the world and themselves. Their souls were purified under the influence of the beauty of nature.
The moral purity and incredible beauty of nature is admired by many heroes of the works of Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy, including Andrei Bolkonsky from the novel “War and Peace”. Up to a certain point, the hero has only one goal in life: to become famous in battles, to be the same as Napoleon, because Bolkonsky idolized the ideas of Bonoparte. During the battle, Prince Andrei runs forward with a banner in his hand, as he wants to be noticed. However, he receives an injury, which becomes a turning point in his life. Lying on the ground without strength, Bolkonsky looks at the endless sky and understands that besides this sky there is nothing, that all worldly worries, unlike eternity, which the firmament reminds of, do not matter. It was from this moment, when the hero took a fresh look at nature, that his liberation from Napoleonic ideas and the purification of his soul began.
To summarize, I want to say that the beauty of nature can change a person’s mood, his way of thinking, and his attitude towards everything around him.