The composition of the narrative on the theme “Summer”

In my opinion, summer is the most beautiful time of the year, because it is very warm, everything is beautiful around, and we have an excellent opportunity to relax. And summer is a time of holidays and vacations. We can go anywhere, it’s wonderful to spend time by the pond, in the shade of emerald green, splashing in warm water. And you can go to the mountains, ride a bicycle or play all sorts of games.

I want to share my impressions of the most memorable moment in the last summer holidays. In July, my family and I organized a trip to the forest for shish kebabs. A bonfire was made, meat was cooked for frying, and a tent was put up. While my parents were preparing dinner, I went to the forest to, as it should, to work up an appetite.

The forest on this day was magnificent! There was an aroma of flowers, honey and strawberries in the air. All around was green, only the trunks of the trees stood out with bright spots on a dark green background. The birds were chirping in their language, the woodpecker was banging.

Suddenly there were suspicious sounds. It seemed to me that someone hissed next to me. I turned around and saw. wriggling snake! I immediately caught my breath. I did not even remember how she looked, because I was very frightened. I began to retreat slowly, and then rushed to our camp. I decided not to talk about everything that happened to my mother, so as not to worry her. A little later, having had lunch and plenty of fun, we packed up our bags and drove home.

Yes. Time flies very quickly. It is a pity that it is impossible to repeat those moments and sensations that were experienced by you during the holidays. But I believe that next summer will also be unforgettable!

This summer was interesting. The first month of rest was very much like the previous summer holidays, as I was staying in the city. However, the next two summer months turned out to be amazing for me – I spent them in the village with my aunt. It is with these days spent outside the city that the most vivid events and indelible impressions of my summer are...

connected with me.

Time in the village is going leisurely, not at all like in megacities. It creates the feeling that a whole month has passed, whereas in reality it’s only a week. My morning usually begins with the help of aunt in the garden. Our village is away from the village, and tap water is an unheard-of luxury. So I go to the well with two old iron buckets. The water in it is amazingly clean and very cold. I also help my aunt in the house, but at the first opportunity I play with friends.

I have good friends in the village. We spend all our free time together. In the hottest time we sit for hours on the bank of the river. Having bathed, we frolic with might and main, we look at the passing barges. Once I flew from my aunt for not coming to dinner. And in fact, I did not want to eat at all, because together with Pashka’s friend we baked potatoes in a fire. It’s such a pleasure – to transfer from hand to hand the red-hot potatoes, and then break it and eat it in a piece. Do you agree that this is not a plate with cooked soup? And most importantly – how much romance and happiness in these summer days, held as if in a different world!

I spent summer evenings in a real wooden hut. As a rule, after dinner my friend was visited by my aunt. Sitting at a large round table, they drank tea. And I was hiding in a large stone stove, or looking at books, or “hacking”, as my grandmother liked to say. And in truth, I kept a diary, and, like Robinson Crusoe on an uninhabited island, counted the days left before returning to the city.

Sometimes it occurs to me that the village is an islet removed from the city, and life on it is subject to a different rhythm. Whether because of the proximity to nature, and perhaps simply because the big cities in an endless pursuit of technological progress have come off a calm, measured life. But anyway, I’m an urban person. So, my place is there. And yet, every time leaving this quiet island of tranquility, I will miss my village.


The composition of the narrative on the theme “Summer”