Every summer I go to my grandmother in the village of Lesnaya Stenka. The very name itself indicates the scenic location in which I rest. Forests around the old, deciduous, they really like a wall surround the village. Local people graze livestock on the edge of the forest, picking mushrooms, berries and nuts in the forest.
This summer, and for the first time I tried myself as a cowherd boy. The grandmother’s farm is big: a cow, three goats, chickens. Earlier, when I asked my grandmother to let me graze goats, my grandmother used to say that I was still small. This time she asked me to take goats to grazing. I am well acquainted with the place – there I have often been with my grandmother.
Everything went well, it seemed to me that nothing is easier. My goats walked
“And you, like a watch,” my grandmother said when she saw us. “Well, did you manage the goats? They are quiet.” I did not begin to talk about my adventure, I was afraid that my grandmother would no longer entrust me to her favorites. But, apparently, on my face, she already understood everything. “It’s all right, Alyonushka, get used to it,” my grandmother said gently, “Here, have a drink of fresh milk.” She just gave us our drill. “