A fairy tale for preschoolers and primary schoolchildren about the seasons

Fairy tale for children 5-8 years old “Seasons”
Author: Ksyusha Ershova, pupil of GBDOU No. 43, Kolpino St. Petersburg Leader: Efimova Alla Ivanovna, teacher of GBDOU No. 43, Kolpino St. Petersburg

Description of material: This fairy tale is written for children of different ages. This tale tells about the seasons that were very friendly. The material can be used in kindergarten, in extracurricular reading lessons at school and for reading in the family circle. Goal: Formation of ideas about the seasons in children through the content of a fairy tale. Objectives: - instill interest in the world around us, in changes in nature; - cultivate goodwill, interest in the world around us, in nature, in reading fairy tales.

Once upon a time there were four sisters: Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn. Each of them had three sons. One day Winter decided to go visit her sister Vesna. She went out into the street with her eldest son, December, and outside there was snow, apparently - invisibly, a blizzard was sweeping all around. They returned home. Winter waited a little and, taking her middle son, January, went again to visit Spring. They went outside, and there was snow and biting frost. Winter decided to return home again. So she waited a little longer and went out again into the street with her youngest son, February. And outside the sun is shining, the snow is warming up. Winter went on and on, and Spring came. Their children, February and March, walked a little on the street, and as soon as the snow began to melt in the sun, Winter went with her son back to her home. Vesna got bored and decided to go visit Summer. She took her middle son with her. His name was April. They decided to go through the forest by summer. They see the first flowers breaking through the melting snow in the forest. What kind of flowers do you think these are? - Of course, snowdrops!!!

Then Vesna decided to return home and take her youngest son with her to visit Summer. His name was May. He loved flowers very much. So May went outside, and there the sun was shining, the grass was turning green, and yellow flowers were popping up everywhere. Can you guess what they are called? - Coltsfoot.

It was so pleasant for Spring and May to walk along the flowery streets that they didn’t even notice how they had already reached Summer. Meanwhile, Summer went out with her son for a walk. The son's name was June. Spring and Summer were so happy to meet each other that they decided to have a little fun. They called clouds, thunder and lightning into the sky. They rattled, sparkled, rained, and Spring remembered that it was time for her and her son to go home. Summer felt refreshed in the rain, and decided to take a little walk around our native expanses. Summer took his middle son outside. His name was July. They went outside, and it was hot there, everyone was sunbathing and swimming. Summer warmed up with her son and wanted to go visit Autumn. It took its youngest son with it. His name was August. They went out into the street and saw that no one was bathing anymore, everyone was collecting crops: cucumbers, tomatoes, apples.

It was so interesting for Summer and August to watch this that before they had time to look back, they came to visit Autumn. Autumn was delighted and said: “Now I will introduce you to my eldest son, his name is September.” He can draw very beautifully. As soon as September went outside, he painted the leaves on the trees yellow, orange and red.

The sun was shining and it became very beautiful outside. “It’s good to be your guest,” says Summer. - Yes, but it’s time for us to return home. As soon as Summer went home with her son, Autumn became bored. She called her middle son for a walk. His name was October. October went out into the street, saw that he had not met Summer again, but how he would cry like autumn rain, how the cold wind would blow. That all the leaves have fallen from the trees.

Meanwhile, Autumn decided to take her youngest son and go visit Winter. So the youngest son November went out into the street, he saw the wind and rain and decided to freeze the streets and add snow. Meanwhile, Autumn and November came to visit Winter. So they walk along the streets. First Winter, then Spring, then Summer, and then Autumn. They take turns walking, each at their own time, telling us about themselves and showing themselves off. That's why they are called seasons!!! This is the end of the fairy tale, and whoever read and listened - Well done!!! YEAR. At any time of the year, the weather is pleasant! Every month is so good, They are different from each other. Three dozen wonderful days, Gives a month without a trace. Looks like a ball all year round. How could it be otherwise? Slowly walks around the circle. He has been a loyal friend for months. (Author of poems: Tatyana Nikolaevna Dvoretskaya, teacher, Moscow)

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It may happen that the pumpkin that ends up on your table will have no pulp at all. No large white seeds that can be dried in the sun and clicked on a warm autumn evening near the fence; there are no hairs holding these seeds - just a dense crust. And, it would seem, by knocking on such a pumpkin in advance, you can easily understand whether it is empty or not. But not everything is so simple! For some reason, until the very moment empty pumpkins get into our house, it is almost impossible to distinguish them from ordinary ones. They are just as heavy, and the tapping of the incredulous who want to test the pumpkin for juiciness also sounds dull. So what is the matter - the main and, perhaps, most absurd question, the answer to which should be equally incredible?

The fact is that in some pumpkins, tiny pumpkin men - shorties - have settled. Strange and wild people. Small, no bigger than a little finger, they are almost no different from you and me. They walk on two legs, sew their own clothes, and weave straw hats (although they need very little straw).

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These little guys spend almost the entire winter, cold autumn and spring in trees. They will choose a deeper hollow, make hanging ladders and just wander around the surrounding area. Sometimes they look for food, and sometimes just for fun. But there is one short period in their life, like a vacation, when the little ones move to the ground. Pumpkins are just reaching a decent size for living. And the most important thing is that short people will never spoil good fruits. Only if, where the parasite has taken hold, and the plant can no longer be saved, then they immediately get to work. And how skillfully they make a door and windows in a pumpkin! Look, it’s a real tiny house, with carved shutters and curtains.

But as soon as you blink, everything disappears. Again, there is a very ordinary pumpkin on the field. Miracles? No, it’s just that this mechanism has been debugged for a long time by the short ones. As soon as bells, invisible and inaudible to our ears (specially placed by short baits), ring somewhere in the distance, they immediately know that it is the watchman coming, or the waterers have arrived. So it's time to hide. It is not known exactly whether they pull a secret cord there, or press a special button, only the pumpkin immediately turns from a small house into an ordinary orange ball - no windows or doors.

I remember that my sister and I were eight years old at the time. And we decided to ambush the short guys. And her dad, therefore, my uncle, then worked as a watchman in a pumpkin field. We made sandwiches at home, poured tea into a thermos and followed him. So, we are sitting - we are sitting at the guard booth, and in front of us is a field with orange diamonds and pumpkins. We also had binoculars specially prepared for observation. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a tiny ring of white smoke rose straight from the ground to the clouds. Followed by another and another. We look through binoculars and see one pumpkin, about thirty meters from us, it’s not a pumpkin at all, but a real round house. It was already getting dark, so a barely noticeable light flickered in the pumpkin windows. Like a table lamp. And smoke poured out of the handle, like from a chimney. They stoke it, that is, because the evenings in our latitudes are already chilly at this time. We threw the binoculars and rushed across the field as fast as we could. We reached the place where we had just seen a miracle. We stand and blink our eyes. There is nothing. Was it your imagination? It's good that it was just the two of us. Otherwise they definitely wouldn’t believe each other.

There was nothing to do - we turned around and, having a light slurp, went back to the booth. An hour later it was completely dark. Mosquitoes swarmed in swarms. My uncle remained sitting on the street - his job was to guard, not to sleep. And he probably wasn’t bitten. And we went to the booth, climbed onto the old creaky bed, covered our heads with a blanket and immediately fell asleep.

… Night. The stars and the moon are clearly shining. The guy has been snoring for a long time, so much so that the walls of the booth are shaking. This is probably a tactic - to scare all the uninvited guests so that they don’t understand whether a person is snoring or an animal is growling. I wake up to my sister pulling me by the sleeve: “Get up!” Get up quickly! We carefully approach the half-open door and look out from behind it, so that not a single rustle disturbs the night idyll - only snoring and the croaking of frogs somewhere far away in the forest belt. On the field, pumpkin eyes and little windows flicker like fireflies. It didn’t seem like it, what a joy!

We don't move. We stand and are afraid to even breathe. Suddenly something creaked not far from us. Barely audible. A tiny door opened and a short man appeared on the threshold of the pumpkin - in a white shirt tucked into his trousers; on the head is a cap with a visor. The little guy spread his arms to the sides and stretched. He yawned, and as if coming to his senses, hastily covered his tiny mouth with his hand to yawn again. Jumping off the pumpkin porch, the little guy walked around the house and ended up exactly on the side that we could see best. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a thin rope ladder stretched up to the very stem of the pumpkin. The short man with a businesslike look began to climb up it until he reached the flat pumpkin top - the roof. Having made himself comfortable and dangling his legs, the short one looked at the sky thoughtfully for some time. Then suddenly - once, and a tiny violin was in his hands.

If it had been completely quiet in the field, the man had not snored, the frogs had not croaked, the extraordinary music created by the little man that night would have remained in my memory forever. But then all the other sounds seemed too loud. I only remember how fascinated we watched the little man, and how at one fine moment the guy, turning over on his other side in his uncomfortable chair, coughed loudly. The music immediately stopped. The field also went out. For a long time we looked at the slightly open door. They let mosquitoes into the trailer, froze, but never saw the miracle again.

...Many years have passed. I had my own children. And one day in September, we brought home a large pumpkin from the store. It was too late to cook, so we just put it in the dressing room and went to bed. At night I was awakened by some strange rustling noise. I didn’t want to get up, so I just lay there and listened, thinking that it was probably mice running around in the underground of the old house. Suddenly, a quiet, unusually beautiful melody flowed from somewhere. "Can't be!" — I immediately wanted to jump to my feet and rush in search of the invisible musician. After all, once upon a time, just once, I had already heard these sounds... I heard them and forgot. But I remember now.

No, that night I never got out of bed, afraid to upset the fragile balance of the fairy tale that settled so close and for a short time. By morning, my daughter began to whine in her crib. And the music stopped...