Poet Nekrasov believes that the homeland is your home, there is your corner in the city or village, in which everything is native. My homeland is the village of Kamenolomni in the Rostov region.
I really love my village and want to talk about it.
Harsh and affectionate, far and near, my native land! Its appearance always changes. According to my grandmother ‘s stories, everything used to be different: they lived in small, uncomfortable, but nevertheless native and warm houses. Stoked the stove, sang folk songs. Much had to see the Don land for millennia of its history, including the land of the October rural area. Five centuries ago, vast expanses of the Seaside were almost deserted steppes, a distant outskirts of Russia, on the vast territory of which were rarely scattered Cossack towns. Here, on the free Don, peasants left the central regions of the country from feudal oppression.
The endless steppe, stretching in ancient times between the possessions of
the Russian state and the Crimean Khanate, more precisely, between the Don, the upper Oka and the left tributaries of the Dnieper and Desna, was called the Wild Field. Wild field. Whom only you have not seen.
This is the homeland of our ancestors. My very different.
My village became more civilized, there were more comfortable houses. In my opinion, they give rigor and boredom. These houses cover the beauty of nature, but on the other hand they hide people from the cold in winter. It would seem that unusual in life. Every corner of the house, every step I know, like my five fingers, which I would expect from a man who loves his homeland. I close my eyes and my house seems to me, my street, in which my mother was born, I was born, in which my best and carefree childhood years pass!
At different times of the year the village of Kamenolomni is beautiful in its own way.
In winter, when there is a lot of snow, and large snow caps lie on trees and houses. And it seems that our village has sunk into an invisible dream. In the winter we walk in the evenings with friends, we look into the holey starry
sky. Warm air from the mouth turns into different amazing figures. Around everything is white, mysterious. Here comes the scream of kids playing snowballs. Such an amazing world in your favorite village.
In the spring, when all nature awakens from sleep, birds come, streams run, the grass turns green in the forest, and the children admire the first snowdrops.
And, of course, in the summer, when everything around is fragrant and blooming.
Our village is beautiful in autumn. All trees are in bright yellow, crimson, green dresses. And autumn leaf fall is a very beautiful sight, although… a little sad.
My Quarry is a village – a mystery, a village – a legend, which probably can not be found. This is a beautiful village in the Rostov region.
A hospital has been built in the quarry, where not only people from all over the Oktyabrsky district are being treated in the main building, but also inspecting the newest equipment.
Also in our city there is a music school. I have been studying piano at this school for the second year already. And I like it so much!
There is also in my small motherland and my favorite gymnasium number 20 named after them. S. S. Stancheva, where I study in 1 “B” class. Talented and competent teachers work here. Many students of our school became winners of various competitions, including international ones.
And we also have a park where you can go to relax with the whole family.
And what a beautiful House of Culture we have! It is very similar to the Bolshoi Theater.
I want to tell you about the cleanliness of our village. It’s nice to walk through the streets and yards at any time of the year. Therefore, our village Kamenolomni is so cozy, beautiful, but for me it is the best on earth.
Sometimes I think: “How can I live without all this? After all, I will soon finish school and go on studying.” “Let not go forever, but how will I live without my small Motherland!?” Whatever I think, wherever I am, I will always know that there is a place in the world where it is always worth returning, where close people always wait for me. My native land, the bright image of which warms my soul and supports me in everything. And the fire of the dawn, and the splash of water in the river, and the silvery moon – all this is my small Homeland, a land that I really love. I do not want any more. I was born on this earth and for her. My love for the Motherland and gratitude for her care for me, for her beauty until the end of my days will be preserved.