Summary “A horse with a pink mane” Astafyev

Summary “A horse with a pink mane” Astafyev

My grandmother sent me to the dump for strawberries, along with the neighboring children. She promised: if I dial full tuesok, she will sell my berries together with her own and buy me a “stick carrot”. Gingerbread in the form of a horse with a mane, tail and hoofs, covered with pink glaze, provided honor and respect to the boys of the whole village and was their cherished dream.

On the ridge I went along with the children of our neighbor Levonty, who worked at logging. Approximately once in fifteen days “Levonty received money, and then in a neighboring house where there were only children and nothing more, the feast began with a mountain,” and Levontia’s wife ran around the village and gave her debts. On such days, I made my way to the neighbors in

every way. My grandmother would not let me. “There is nothing to eat these proletarians,” she said. In Levontia, I was readily accepted and pitied as an orphan. The money earned by the neighbor ended quickly, and Aunt Vasena again ran around the village, borrowed.

The Levontiev family lived poorly. Around their cottage there was no farm, even they washed themselves from their neighbors. Every spring they surrounded the house with a pathetic backdrop, and every autumn he went to the fire. On Grandma’s reproaches, Levonty, a former sailor, replied that he “loves the settlement.”

With Levontev’s “eagles,” I went to the pile, earning a horse with a pink mane. I already collected a few glasses of strawberries, when Levontevsky guys started a fight – the eldest noticed that the others collect berries not in dishes, but in the mouth. As a result, all the mining was scattered and eaten, and the guys decided to go down to the Fokine river. Then they noticed that I had strawberries left. Eat her me “weakly” knocked Levontevsky Sanka, after which I went with the others to the river.

The fact that my dishes are empty, I remembered only in the evening. It was embarrassing and scary to go home with an empty turkey, “my grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Aunt

Vasena, she is lying against her, she will not get away with tears and excuses.” Sanka taught me: push a herb into the herb, and sprinkle a handful of berries on top. I brought this “bluff” home.

My grandmother praised me for a long time, but did not begin to pour the berries – I decided to take them to the city for sale. On the street, I told Sanya everything, and he demanded from me kalach – as payment for silence. I did not get off with one kalach, dragged me, until Sanka was full. At night I did not sleep, I was tormented – and grandmother deceived, and stole the kulachi. Finally, I decided to get up in the morning and admit everything.

When I woke up, I found that I had overslept – my grandmother had already left for the city. I regretted that Grandfather’s capture was so far from the village. Grandpa’s good, quiet, and he would not have offended me. From nothing to do I went fishing with Sanka. After a while, I saw a large boat sweeping out from behind the cape. Grandmother sat in it and threatened me with her fist.

Home I returned only in the evening and immediately dived into the pantry, where the temporary “bed of rugs and an old saddle” was “adjusted.” Curled up, I felt sorry for myself and remembered about my mother. Like her grandmother, she went to the city to trade in berries. Once the overloaded boat overturned and my mother drowned. “It was tightened under a rafting bonus,” where she caught a scythe. I remembered how my grandmother was tormented until the river let her mother go.

When I woke up in the morning, I found out that my grandfather had come back from the cottage. He came to me and told me to ask my grandmother for forgiveness. After much disgrace and pooblichav, my grandmother sat me to have breakfast, and after all she told me, “What made her small”.

But my grandmother still brought me a horse. Since then, many years have passed, “Grandfathers are dead, there are no grandmothers, and my life is slipping towards the sunset, and I still can not forget the grandmother’s gingerbread – that wonderful horse with a pink mane.”


Summary “A horse with a pink mane” Astafyev