The Vologda wedding

The Vologda wedding

A. Ya. Yashin
Vologda Wedding
Author came to the village for a wedding.
Bride Galya almost impossible to see – so she rushes around the house: a lot of work. In the village she was considered one of the best brides. The merits of her – a suburban, undemanding, not strong – is that she is a very hardworking kind.
Mother of the bride, Maria Gerasimovna, runs the kerosene and hangs the lamps under the ceiling, corrects the photographs, shakes the towels so that the embroidery can be seen better…
On the day of the wedding, before her bride’s arrival, her contemporaries gathered in the kitchen (here she is called kut). The bride is supposed to cry, and she, happy, pink-haired, can not begin in any way. Finally decided, sobbed.

/> But the mother is not enough. She led a woman lamented, a neighbor, Natalia Semyonovna. “Why are you singing shorties?” Natalia Semyonovna addressed reproachfully, “You need to sing a fibrous song at the wedding.”
She drank her beer, wiped her lips with the back of her hand and sang sadly: “The sun will roll up, the divinity will go through…” The
voice is high and clean, sings slowly, diligently and no-no, and explains something: so little believes that the content of the ancient dachshund understandable by the current, waggly…
A groom, a matchmaker, a thousandth, a friend and all the guests from the groom came for the bride in a dump truck: there was not another free machine at the flax factory where the bride and groom work. Before entering the village, the guests were greeted by a barricade – as is customary, a bride should be taken for a bride. But, of course, the guys stomped in the cold (frost thirty degrees) not because of a bottle of vodka. In the huge village of Sushinove there is still no electricity, no radio, no library, no club. And youth holidays are necessary!
The groom named Petr Petrovich fell into the kitchen already drunk – poured, so as not to freeze – and proud to himself not in moderation. The couple was solemnly seated
by the matchmaker. Brought “sweet pies”, mandatory in the northern rural weddings. Each invited family goes with their pie – this is in the North the same folk art, as carved platbands on the windows, cockerels and skates on the krynkas.
Among the men at the feast very soon appeared typically Russian truth-seekers, advocating for justice, for happiness for all. The braggarts also appeared: for the whole first evening an elderly collective farmer walked from table to table and boasted of plastic teeth that had been recently inserted.
Immediately I got drunk and went to pretzel the pretzel of the groom’s uncle. His wife Grunya, found herself a friend in misfortune, and the whole evening in the kitchen they poured out each other’s soul: whether they complained about husbands, whether they were lauded for strength and fearlessness.
Everything goes “as it should be,” as Mary Gerasimov wanted. She does not even have time to eat or drink.
The women seated the accordionist on a high couch and crushed them with their chants, with cries, until the accordion fell out of the hands of the accordionist.
The young prince got drunk and began to swagger. And Maria Gerasimovna and crouched before her dear son-in-law, she crocheted, she curses: “Petenka, Petenka, Petenka!”
And the prince worms his hair, he growls his head and tears himself up on his shirt. “Who are you?” – is selected with a thin fist to Galina, a tear-stained, pink-cheeked face. “” Are you my wife or not? “I Chapai!
When all the beer in the bride’s house was drunk, the wedding went for forty kilometers, to the homeland of the groom.
In the morning, the bride in the presence of guests swept the floor, and she was thrown different garbage: checked whether he knows how to manage. Then the bride – she was already called the young woman – updated the guests with pancakes and then distributed gifts to her new kin. All that was sewed and embroidered for many weeks by the bride herself, her friends and mother.


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