Tanyusha heard a lot about cuttings, but she did not know what it was.
One day my father brought a bunch of green twigs and said:
- These are currant cuttings. Let's plant currants, Tanyusha.

Tanya began to examine the cuttings. The sticks are like sticks - slightly longer than a pencil. Tanya was surprised:
- How will currants grow from these sticks when they have neither roots nor twigs?
And the father replies:
- But they have kidneys. Roots will come out of the lower kidneys. But from this, the upper one, a currant bush will grow.
Tanya could not believe that a small bud could become a big bush. And I decided to check. She decided to grow currants herself. In the front garden. In front of the hut, under the very windows. And there burdocks with burdock grew. Yes, they are so tenacious that you will not immediately weed them out.
Grandma helped. They pulled out burdocks and burdocks, and Tanyusha began to dig up the earth. It's not an easy job. First you need to remove the sod, then break the clods. And the turf near the ground is thick and hard. And the clods are hard.

Tanya had to work a lot while the earth was subdued. It became soft and fluffy.
Tanya marked out the dug-up earth with a string and pegs. She did everything as her father ordered, and planted currant cuttings in rows. She sat down and waited.

The long-awaited day has come. Sprouts hatched from the buds, and soon the leaves appeared.
By autumn, small bushes rose from the sprouts. And a year later they bloomed and gave the first berries. A small handful from each bush.

Tanya is satisfied that she herself grew currants. And people rejoice, looking at the girl:
- That's what a good "currant" the Kalinnikovs are growing. Persistent. Working. Black-eyed, with a white ribbon in her braid.

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You can read the work of Evgeny Andreevich Permyak "Smorodinka" as in kindergarten or school, or at home. The work teaches young readers to work. The story describes the planting of currant cuttings in a simple and accessible form. Evgeny Permyak "Currant", summary: Tanyushin's dad brought home cuttings of currants. The grandmother helped the girl plant them. I had to work hard. Over time, currant bushes began to bear fruit. And they began to speak of Tanyusha as a hardworking assistant. After reading the work of Permyak "Smorodinka", you can add it to the reader's diary.

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Tanyusha had heard a lot about cuttings, but she did not know what they were.

One day my father brought a bunch of green twigs and said:

These are currant cuttings. Let's plant currants, Tanyusha.

Tanya began to examine the cuttings. The sticks are like sticks - slightly longer than a pencil. Tanya was surprised:

How will currants grow from these sticks when they have neither roots nor twigs?

And the father replies:

But they have kidneys. Roots will come out of the lower kidneys. But from this, the upper one, a currant bush will grow.

Tanya could not believe that a small bud could become a big bush. And I decided to check. She decided to grow currants herself. In the front garden. In front of the hut, under the very windows. And there burdocks with burdock grew. Yes, they are so tenacious that you will not immediately weed them out.

Grandma helped. They pulled out burdocks and burdocks, and Tanyusha began to dig up the earth. It's not an easy job. First you need to remove the sod, then break the clods. And the turf near the ground is thick and hard. And the lumps are hard.

Tanya had to work a lot while the earth was subdued. It became soft and fluffy.

Tanya marked out the dug-up earth with a string and pegs. She did everything as her father ordered, and planted currant cuttings in rows. She sat down and waited.

The long-awaited day has come. Sprouts hatched from the buds, and soon the leaves appeared.

By autumn, small bushes rose from the sprouts. And a year later they bloomed and gave the first berries. A small handful from each bush.

Tanya is satisfied that she herself grew currants. And people rejoice, looking at the girl:

That's what a good "currant" the Kalinnikovs are growing. Persistent. Working. Black-eyed, with a white ribbon in her braid.

Currant blooms inconspicuously - all with small yellow flowers. Only leaves are good - fringed cuffs. And how it will be covered by the summer with black glossy berries - do not take your eyes off! They hang on branches in tight balls, the sun bounces off them, as if from polished drums, and, you know, they ripen, pour with elastic sweetness. The currant is unpretentious, puts up with both shade and drought, but still loves moist earth and the sun. The berries of such a currant are amazing: juicy, cool, elastic ...
I knew one such currant thirty years ago. In the girls she was thin, stooped, and her knees protruded forward in sharp triangles, like the prow of a ship. Long arms hung awkwardly, an underdeveloped chest was hidden in the bowels of an immense sweatshirt. Wrists and feet were, perhaps, good. Narrow and neat, they aroused envy in me, wide-legged. Eyes gleamed in a small pockmarked face. Small, round, they were blue-black. Not dark brown, but black. The looks they sent were inviting. Now would say, wet-intimate. However, judge for yourself...
There were flocks of boys around her. Of course, the time was relatively chaste, no one thought of any such liberties. Rather, they thought about thinking, but without real action. Just as soon as Smorodinka fluttered her eyelashes, which were unusually long and thick, and twinkled her eyes, the boyish hands themselves reached for her briefcase. So they escorted home: in front of Smorodinka with a half-smile in lowered eyelashes (And after all, it turned out to smile with only eyelashes!), A little behind is a lucky man with a briefcase, and only behind him are three or four boys, sad because they didn’t get a briefcase, but hopes for the next not wasting a day.
She studied badly. The teachers had already despaired of telling her anything, and simply sculpted triples, transferring from class to class. When the time came to the exams, someone would certainly prompt her, help, and Smorodinka received her triple, gave her savior a vaguely caressing look, and victoriously retired home. The girls treated her with wary contempt. She had evenly condescending feelings for them, not particularly converging with any of them. I think she perceived me as a kind of neutral catalyst, it seems to be, but it seems not. Perhaps I was a fertile background against which her sleazyness was presented in the best light. At that time, my infantilism, I did not realize this. But, here's what's amazing. Smorodinka had a persistent hatred for all kinds of sciences, both exact and humanitarian, and sometimes he will read some unusual poem, Eluard or Lorca, and the teachers only shrug their shoulders. Her mother was summoned to school, so she only sighed, asking that “you somehow show mercy, the girl grows up without a father, she is so quiet, but a dunce, she doesn’t want to study, even if she finishes school.” I remember that she somehow struck me by reading Kipling avidly (and found it somewhere! We only knew Mowgli.)
- Just listen, what a charm! she said breathlessly
Gray eyes - dawn
steamboat siren,
Rain, separation, gray trail
Behind the screw of running foam.

Black eyes - heat
Gliding into a sea of ​​sleepy stars
And at the side until the morning
Kiss reflection.

Blue eyes - moon
Waltz white silence
daily wall
The inevitable goodbye

Brown eyes are sand
Autumn, wolf steppe, hunting,
Jump, all by a thread
From falling and flying.

No, I'm not their judge
Just without absurd judgments
I am four times indebted
Blue, grey, brown, black.

Like four sides
Of the same light
I love - it's not my fault -
All four of these colors.
“Black eyes - heat, .. reflection of kisses - she repeated ecstatically. - This is about me, you understand? Understand?! she teased me. I was silent, admiring both the verses and my involvement in something sweet and sinful, when it's scary to get dirty and ... irresistibly drawn to do it.
Fate separated us for a long time. But about ten years ago, my family and I were on a tourist trip to Yugoslavia, then already divided into parts. Tired of jumping from the mountainous Kopaonik to the seaside Dubrovnik, buying souvenirs, looking at local beauties, we finally decided to give ourselves a rest. My significant other snored in the room for a long time, but I couldn't sleep. I went out to sea. The night Adriatic lay before me like a huge sighing beast. This beast was not at all terrible, and a greenish strip of the moon lay on its rearing wet skin. And now, on the shore of this greenish, long, damp, sad, fragrant dawn, I saw her.
She was sitting at a table in a small open-air cafe, half turned towards me. Not a trace of the former angularity remained. A heavy-hipped, curly-haired, buxom woman. Noticing that they were looking at her, she squinted her eyes at me. Currant!
Of course she recognized me. Of course, we threw ourselves on each other's necks. And even at that moment, I felt a spicy exciting smell. The scent of her skin.
- How are you here? Where? - I asked questions. - Married? Are you working?
- I? she chuckled. - I guess I'm working. Hey, two more coffees and nuts, she called to the waiter. - I'm serving! I do not offer cigarettes, you are unlikely to smoke. I shook my head. “Well, you see, you guessed it.
“I was a widow in my first marriage,” she began, dragging on her cigarette. “He was killed. Some sort of business squabble. Left nothing but debts and a son. Somehow she got out, sold the apartment, the car, his gifts. Then a friend got a job as a manicurist in a beauty salon. I worked a little, well, it was hard, of course. Mom is already dead, no help.
What about your husband's family? I asked.
- Yah! she waved her hand. “They didn’t like me from the very beginning. And the child too. They didn't give me a penny. Then I had a Croatian client. She was married to our local. In general, we became friends. And then her brother, Jovan, came to visit her somehow. Well, he saw me, fell in love, took me here with his son. That's how it ended up here. We lived with him for six years, gave birth to two sons.
- And then?
- Soup with a cat! - Currant laughed hoarsely. – I had an accident on the road between Kopaonik and Dubrovnik. - Yes, yes, on the same one you were driving on. I know your tourist routes like the back of my hand.
I remembered the terribly tiring 11-hour drive from the mountain resort to the sea and gasped.
Was he alone driving?
- Yes, it was necessary to deliver the products to the cafe on time. He worked there. The family had to feed somehow. I was a waitress there, and he brought groceries. Fell asleep at the wheel. Crashed into a tree. And the car, and the products, and myself into a cake. Well, at first I cried, howled like a wolf, and then, howl not howl, but you have to live, raise children. Well, she continued to work as a waitress, as well as a cleaner, she took on any job. Now the eldest son has grown up, he helps. When the tourist season, it's easier. He works as a lifeguard on the beach. In winter it is more difficult, but nothing. Survived. Well, whatever happened...
-What? I didn't enter.
Currant darted her eyes at me.
- Oh, Lilka, what she was, she remained so. Who is your son, daughter?
- Daughter.
How did she come into being, do you remember? Or has this process completely fallen out of your memory? I'm not talking about childbirth, but about before.
- What do you want to say?
- Oh, don't be offended for God's sake. I was joking. It’s just that you have a face like a high school girl, only the bow in the braid is missing. I'm a woman, I can't live without it. Thank God, attention is not deprived.
I remembered the boyish gangs that saw Smorodinka home, her shabby brown briefcase, which served as a precious trophy, her wet look. She was now sitting across from me, heavy, hipped, curly, and her eyes exuded desire. The space of a small cafe was saturated with it, so that the puny Croatian waiter did not take his burning eyes off her. It seemed that the waves of the Adriatic and those are beating against the shore somehow invitingly. Currant sighed, suppressing a pleasant yawn.
- That's it, Lily. And how is your husband? Well, do you understand? - I had not yet had time to be indignant, as she laughed good-naturedly, covering her damaged teeth:
- Don't be afraid, I won't. I don't steal from mine. Well, okay, go, otherwise your missus will now raise the alarm throughout the hotel. There is no wife around! Come on, come on, well, I'll go. - She stood up, stroking her skirt. Almost simultaneously with her, a grim bull-faced type in the far corner of the cafe got up. The frail waiter put out his eyes and began to sweep crumbs from the next table.
- Currant, how is it? I murmured. - And if, God forbid, you get sick, or get pregnant from someone? Oh, yes, you can protect yourself, - I remembered.
- Nah! - she provocatively drawled. - There will be nothing. Grass does not grow on a torn path. Yeah, I don't like rubber bands either.
- Currant! I drawled, amazed, but she had already left the table and headed for the exit. Then she abruptly returned and asked:
- Do you remember:
And her hips were tossing
Like caught trout
That lunar cold chilled,
They burned with white fire.
- Of course I remember. Lorca.
- Remember! she said contentedly. - That's why I loved you, Lilya, you knew a lot of dissimilar things, not what you need, but what your soul lies in. And don't feel sorry for me. I like my life. I am free. As long as I live, I am happy. Bye then. See you tomorrow. She kissed me on the cheek, giving me a complex scent of coffee, vanilla cigarettes, and something else spicy and fresh.
I fell asleep almost immediately. She crawled under a warm barrel to her husband, thought that this was happiness and fell into a dream. He muttered something unintelligible and fell asleep again. Somewhere nearby, the Adriatic was splashing, and the greenish light from the moon lay on our sheets.
The next day, like a flock of cackling geese, we were collected on a bus for a tour of the old city. This was our last day in Dubrovnik. The next day we moved to another resort town. For 12 days of the tour it was necessary to know and see everything. Hesitating with things, I suddenly saw her. She was standing on the terrace of the cafe. The sun shone on the back of her head, and because of this, a copper-red curly radiance rose above her head. Next to her were children, three boys: sixteen, thirteen and ten years old in appearance.
- Well, come on! she smiled. “Maybe we won’t see each other again. Kiss my daughter for me.
- Thanks! And all the best to you. - I spoke sincerely and sincerely kissed all her children. They were unlike each other. The eldest was swarthy, dark-haired and brown-eyed, the middle one had ashy hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes. The youngest had copper-red hair and dark gray opaque eyes. They sedately let themselves be kissed, and stepped aside.
- Yeah, did you notice? she laughed. - "Like four sides of the same world, I love - there is no fault in that - All four of these colors."
- Where's the fourth one? I couldn't resist.
- As where? I myself! "Black eyes - heat." It's about me. - And she threw her unforgettable look at me. - Come on, run. In the Old City, don't forget to visit the monastery. Very beautiful, 12th century. If you want, you can light a candle. Bye then. We kissed and I rushed to the bus.
- Who is this? the husband asked.
Yes, an old friend. Married here, there are her children. We met by chance yesterday. - Then the bus moved, and we began to listen to the guide. He strongly advised us to look now to the right, then to the left at the most ancient historical

Currant

Tanyusha heard a lot about cuttings, but she did not know what it was.

One day my father brought a bunch of green twigs and said:

These are currant cuttings. Let's plant currants, Tanyusha.

Tanya began to examine the cuttings. The sticks are like sticks - slightly longer than a pencil. Tanya was surprised:

How will currants grow from these sticks when they have neither

roots, no twigs?

And the father replies:

But they have kidneys. Roots will come out of the lower kidneys. But from this, the upper one, a currant bush will grow.

Tanya could not believe that a small bud could become a big bush. And I decided to check. She decided to grow currants herself. In the front garden. In front of the hut, under the very windows. And there burdocks with burdock grew. Yes, they are so tenacious that you will not immediately weed them out.

Grandma helped. They pulled out burdocks and burdocks, and Tanyusha began to dig up the earth. It's not an easy job. First you need to remove the sod, then break the clods. And the turf near the ground is thick and hard. And the clods are hard.

Tanya had to work a lot while the earth was subdued. It became soft and fluffy.

Tanya marked out the dug-up earth with a string and pegs. She did everything as her father ordered, and planted currant cuttings in rows. She sat down and waited.

The long-awaited day has come. Sprouts hatched from the buds, and soon the leaves appeared.

By autumn, small bushes rose from the sprouts. And a year later they bloomed and gave the first berries. A small handful from each bush.

Tanya is satisfied that she herself grew currants. And people rejoice, looking at the girl:

That's what a good "currant" the Kalinnikovs are growing. Persistent.

Working. Black-eyed, with a white ribbon in her braid.

» » Currant. Permyak Evgeny Andreevich

Tanyusha heard a lot about cuttings, but she did not know what it was.

One day my father brought a bunch of green twigs and said:
- These are currant cuttings. Let's plant currants, Tanyusha.

Tanya began to examine the cuttings. The sticks are like sticks - slightly longer than a pencil. Tanya was surprised:
- How will currants grow from these sticks when they have neither roots nor twigs?

And the father replies:
- But they have kidneys. Roots will come out of the lower kidneys. But from this, the upper one, a currant bush will grow.

Tanya could not believe that a small bud could become a big bush. And I decided to check. She decided to grow currants herself. In the front garden. In front of the hut, under the very windows. And there burdocks with burdock grew. Yes, they are so tenacious that you will not immediately weed them out.

Grandma helped. They pulled out burdocks and burdocks, and Tanyusha began to dig up the earth. It's not an easy job. First you need to remove the sod, then break the clods. And the turf near the ground is thick and hard. And the clods are hard.

Tanya had to work a lot while the earth was subdued. It became soft and fluffy.

Tanya marked out the dug-up earth with a string and pegs. She did everything as her father ordered, and planted currant cuttings in rows. She sat down and waited.

The long-awaited day has come. Sprouts hatched from the buds, and soon the leaves appeared.

By autumn, small bushes rose from the sprouts. And a year later they bloomed and gave the first berries. A small handful from each bush.

Tanya is satisfied that she herself grew currants. And people rejoice, looking at the girl:
- That's what a good "currant" the Kalinnikovs are growing. Persistent. Working. Black-eyed, with a white ribbon in her braid.