1. Cicada
To be able to climb up and down inside its burrow easily is important to it, because when it climbs out into the daylight it has to know what the climate is like outside. So it worked for weeks, even a month, to make a strong wall, suitable for it to crawl up and down. At the top of the tunnel it leaves a finger-thick layer of earth to protect and ward off the changes in the outside air until the last instant. As soon as there is some news of good weather, it climbs up and makes use of the thin cover at the top in order to gauge the state of the climate.
2. The Sherpa Bee
I remember once going to a silk factory where I saw a nest of the Sherpa Bee. It had built its nest in the engine-room, and had chosen for itself a place just above the large boiler on the ceiling. It seemed to have a really good eye! It chose for itself a spot where, throughout the year, no matter how cold or hot, no matter how much spring, summer, fall, or winter, the temperature shown by the thermometer is always the same, 120 degrees, with the exception of the evenings, and those days when it is on vacation. Obviously, on these days there is no heating in the boiler, so, of course, the temperature will vary with it. This fact clearly shows us that this little creature is really demanding of the temperature! Also, the location's home and he's a guy who is very good at picking out locations for himself.
3. Praying Mantis
But when the poor locust moved to the point where Mantis could just touch it, Mantis had no qualms about showing no mercy at all and immediately resorted to using his weaponry, hitting the poor thing hard with his powerful "palms", and then using his two saws to squeeze it tightly. So the little captive, however stubbornly he resisted, was of no avail. Next, the cruel, evil, victorious devil began to munch his spoils. It must have felt very pleased. Just like this, treating the enemy like the autumn wind sweeping away the leaves is the mantis's never-changing creed.
4. Firefly
The firefly often uses a crawler - to make up for the lack of strength in its own legs and feet - to climb to the top of the bottle, to watch the snail's movements carefully, and then, to judge and choose, to look for the snail that can be hooked. and selection, looking for a place where the hook could be laid. Then, just a quick bite is enough to render the opponent unconscious. It all happens in a flash. And so, without delay, the firefly begins to seize the time to create its delicacy, the meat porridge, to be prepared as food for several days.
5. Spiders
Of the six species of garden spiders, there are only two that usually rest in the center of their webs, the striped spider and the silky spider. Even if they are scorched by the hot sun, they will never easily leave their webs to rest in the shade for a while. As for the other spiders, they do not appear during the day. They have their own way of working and resting without interfering with each other, and not far from their webs there is a hidden place, made of leaves and threads rolled up. In this they hide during the day, and, quietly, allow themselves to sink deep into contemplation.
6. It was an unforgettable party. I call it the Great Peacock Butterfly Gala. Who doesn't know this gorgeous butterfly? It is the most beautiful butterfly in Europe. It wore a maroon velvet coat and a white fur collar. The gray and white wings, the middle of the position of the cross by the dark white "of", the word connected to the wave-shaped lines; the outer edge of a circle of the surface of the smoky black tones of the white edge; in the center of the center of the growth of a dot like a black pupil and the red diaphragm composed of a large eye; this dot, surrounded by a ring wrapped around the curved lines of various colors of black, white, brown, and red.
In addition, the woods near the house were filled with birds of all kinds. Among them were singing birds, green warblers, sparrows, and owls. In this wood there was a small pond filled with frogs, and when May came they formed a deafening band. Among the inhabitants, the bravest of them all was the wasp, which took possession of my house without permission. At the door of my house also resided the white-rumped wasp. Every time I had to walk into the house I had to be very careful or I would step on them and spoil their work of mining. In the closed windows, the mason bees build earthen nests in the soft sandstone walls. The little holes I accidentally leave in the wooden frames of the windows are utilized by them as portals. On the sidelines of the shutters, a handful of lost mason bees constructed hives. As soon as lunchtime arrived, these wasps made a fluttering visit, their purpose, of course, being to see if my grapes had ripened.
7. The Mysterious Pond
I am never bored when I face the pond and gaze at it. There is no telling how many busy little lives will be born in this little green world
. At the edge of the mud-filled pool there were heaps of black
tadpoles playing and chasing in the warm water; the red-bellied salamander waved its broad tail like a rudder
and moved slowly along; and in the reeds and grasses we found the larvae of the stoneworms, which
had each hidden their bodies in a small sheath of withered twigs -- a little sheath that was not a part of their body, but a little sheath that was not a part of their body, and that was a little sheath for them to hide in. Each of them hides its body in a small sheath made of a dead branch - a sheath used as a defense against predators and all sorts of
unexpected calamities.
Highlights of Childhood
Another nightmare.
One evening, after tea, Grandpa and I sat down to read poetry, while Grandma's regime washed dishes and bowls, and then Uncle Yaakov burst in, his hair a mess as usual.
But there was something wrong with his face. He didn't say hello or look at anyone, threw his hat away, waved his hands and chattered:
"Papa, Mischka is mad!"
"He ate iron at my place, probably drank a couple of cups too much, hit the table and smashed the bowls, tore a piece of dyed wool into strips, smashed down the window, and bullied Gregory and me endlessly!
"Now he has come here and says he wants to kill you! You must be careful ......"
Grandmaster braced himself slowly with his hands, his face scrunched into an axe, his eyes almost glazed over:
"Do you hear me, old woman?"
"Yes, here comes the killer of his father, his own son!
"It's time, it's time! Children ......"
He walked back and forth through the house with his shoulders on end, and suddenly he closed the door with a single reach, taking the heavy hook with him, and turned to Yakov:
"Are you not going to get your hands on Varvara's dowry until you are willingly? Is it not?
Take it!"
He bared his thumb between his forefinger and middle finger and stuck it under the tip of Yakov's nose - a sign of contempt!
Yakov made an aggrieved face:
"Father, this is none of my business!"
"You know best if it's none of your business, what a thing!"
Grandma said nothing, she was busy putting the teacups away in the cupboard.
"I'm I'm here to protect you ......"
"Great, protect me! Great, thanks dad, good son!
"Old woman, give this fox a weapon, Yakov Vasiliev, and as soon as your brother rushes in, you aim it at his head and hit him!"
The uncle ducked into a corner.
"Since you don't believe me, I'll ......"
"Believe you?"
Granddad stomped his feet and roared furiously,
"I'm telling you, I believe in whatever chickens, cats, dogs and rabbits are out there, but you, I'm going to wait and see!
"I know, you got him drunk, you made him do it!
"Very well, you can do it, take him or hit me all you want!"
Grandmother whispered to me,
"Quickly, run to the little window up there, and as soon as your uncle Mikhail shows his face, come down and tell us!"
I was proud to be entrusted with this responsibility.
I watched the street meticulously.
The cobblestones of the dusty up-buried street were like swollen scars, the nearer ones larger and smaller the farther away they were, stretching all the way to the Ostrozhnaya Square on that side of the valley, which was paved with clay, and on the clay was a prison.
The prison was gray, with a guard tower at each of the four corners, imposing and melancholy in form.
Over there and at one end of Cynthia Square was a yellow detention center and a lead-gray fire watch tower.
An on-duty firefighter, like a dog on a chain, kept walking back and forth.
Over there was another stinking puddle called Djukovy, the same puddle my grandma had told about that my uncles had once thrown my father into one winter.
Retracting my gaze, directly across from the window was an alleyway, at the end of which was the lowly Three Saints Church.
A patch of short roofs washed by the fall rains, long since covered with a thick layer of dust again, huddled together like the callers at the church door, all the windows staring out, probably waiting, as I was, for whatever was about to happen.
There were few pedestrians on the street, moving about cockroach-like.
A strong smell came rushing up, making me feel very melancholy; it was the smell of a large onion and huemumbu bun.
I felt a sense of depression that I had never felt before, the top of my heart pressed down, the walls pushing against me! And it was as if something in my body wasn't pushing outward to burst through my ribs and chest!
It was him, Uncle Mikhail!
He appeared at the mouth of the alley, looking around, his hat covering his ears and his face.
He wore a tan topcoat and knee-length boots, one hand in his pants pocket, the other stroking his beard.
Look at him, he's in a murderous mood! I should have run down and reported it right away, but I couldn't move my feet anyway!
I saw him tiptoeing toward the spillway, clattering as he opened its door!
I ran down as fast as I could and knocked on Grandpa's door.
"Who?"
"Me!"
"What for, he went into the Spill? Well, there you go!"
I was scared there ......"
"Okay, stay a while!"
I had to go back up and get on the window.
One day the tavern hostess and Grandfather had a fight, and she piggybacked on Grandmother, who hadn't taken part in the fight, scolding her so fiercely that she even threw carrots at her.
"You are so confused, my good wife." Grandmother said to her serenely, however it could have pissed me off, and I decided to get my revenge on this wicked woman once and for all.
I thought and thought about how I could deliver a more painful blow to this fat redheaded woman with the double chin and thin eyes.
I watched the infighting of the neighbors, and knew that they took revenge on each other by cutting off the cats' tails, poisoning the dogs, beating the roosters and hens to death, or sneaking into the enemy's kiln in the middle of the night, pouring kerosene into the barrels in which the cabbages and cucumbers were pickled, and letting out the kewis in the barrels,--but none of these methods suited me; it was necessary to think of a more striking and more painful blow to this wicked woman. intention; it was necessary to think of a more astonishing and powerful method.
I came up with a plan: when I watched the tavern-mistress going down to the kiln, I closed the roof of the kiln, locked it, I did the Avenger's Dance on top of it, threw the key on the roof, and ran off to the kitchen, where my grandmother was cooking. She didn't immediately understand why I was happy, but when she figured it out, she slapped me hard on the ass a couple of times, dragged me out into the yard, and told me to get on the roof and find the keys. Feeling strange about her attitude, I silently brought the key down and hid in the corner of the yard to watch her release the captured tavern hostess as they both walked across the yard in a friendly manner while laughing.
"I'll show you how it's done," the tavern-mistress said, clenching her fat fists to intimidate me, but her fat face with invisible eyes showed a kindly smile. My grandmother grabbed me by the collar and pulled me into the kitchen and asked,
"Why did you do that?"
"She hit you with a carrot. ......"
"You did it for me? So that's what this is all about! Just look at the scrap of you I shoved under the stove to feed the rats! What kind of protector are you, a little bubble that bursts at the first poke! I'll tell Grandpa - he'll knock your skin off! Go to the top floor and read ......"
She ignored me all day, and in the evening, before there was a prayer, she sat down on the edge of the bed and lectured me on a few words that will never be forgotten:
"Alyosha, my dear boy, remember: don't meddle in the affairs of grown-ups! Adults are learning bad things; God is testing them, you are not yet tested, you should live as a child. You should live as a child, and wait for God to open your heart and show you what you should do, and lead you in the way you should go. Understand? As for what people have committed what transgressions - that's not your business. That's for God to judge and punish. That is for Him to control, not us!"
She was silent for a moment, sniffed her snuff, squinted her right eye, and added:
"Yeah, well, about who's guilty of transgressions, about how even God doesn't get it right all the time."
"God doesn't know everything?" I asked, surprised. She replied softly and sadly:
"If he knew everything, there are about a lot of things people wouldn't do. His old man looked and looked from heaven to earth, to all of us, and sometimes he would burst into tears, and as he wept he would say, 'O my people, my people! Ohhh, how I pity you all!'"
She herself wept, and with a tear-stained face went to the corner to pray.
From that time on, her God was closer and more understandable to me.
:At this very moment, I get some particularly pure, fluttering thoughts, but they are delicate, as transparent as a spider's web, and hard to express clearly in words. They often erupt suddenly and immediately fade away as quickly as a meteor, leaving an inexplicable sadness in your heart. This sometimes comforts you and terrifies you. This is when your living spirit boils and melts, gradually forming a lifelong shape, and thus the face of your mind is created.
Childhood Review
Recently, I read Gorky's book "Childhood", which graphically depicts the tragic childhood of the main character Alyosha. Alyosha's parents died, and his grandfather was very grumpy, only his grandmother loved him. His grandfather didn't like him much, and his two uncles hated him even more. In such a harsh environment, but he came through. In fact, the prototype of Alyosha is Gorky himself, and Gorky used the character of Alyosha to describe his own childhood. This made me y realize the ugly face of people in those days. Gorky's childhood was so miserable compared with ours now!
We were so happy, spoiled by our parents. Every day sitting in the bright and spacious classroom, listening to the teacher lecturing; home there are big fish and meat waiting for you to taste; what you want, give you what you want; if someone bullies you, adults will not hesitate to teach that person a lesson. And what about Gorky's time? Gorky seldom had a peaceful day; almost every day people hurt him, abused him, and bullied him. I can't understand why those people did such things that hurt people and harmed themselves. Are these meaningless things worth their while?
So, we should cherish the beautiful and happy life today. We have to seize the tail end of childhood, study hard, don't be in the blessed do not know the blessing. Such an excellent learning environment, such a beautiful childhood life, we do not study hard, it would be too sorry for parents.
Nowadays, see the childhood is going to go, ushered in is full of vitality of the teenager, let us cherish the last moment of childhood, a little inattention, childhood will be far away from us, seize the last hours of childhood, leaving us the best impression of childhood it